#i'm going. fucking insane actually :p

[whatsyourid]

[ID: 1. "Sometimes Mitski feels life would be easier without hope or a soul or love. But when she closes here eyes and thinks about what's truly hers, what can't be repossessed or demolished, she sees love. "The best thing I ever did in my life was to love people," she says. "I wish I could leave behind all the love I have after I die, so I can shine all this goodness, all this love that I've created onto other people." She hopes her newest album, The Land Is Inhospitable and So Are We, will shine love long after she's gone. That's precisely how it feels: like a love that's haunting the land.

"This is my most American album,” she says. The music feels like a profound act of witnessing this country, in all its private sorrows and contradictions. Sonically Mitski’s most epic and wise albums, it introduces wounds and then actively heals them. Here, love is time-traveling to bless our tender days, like the light from a distant star."

2. a continuation of the last image, it reads "It's full of the ache of the grown-up, seemingly mundane heartbreaks and joys that are often unsung but feel enormous. It's a tiny epic. From the bottom of a glass, to a driveway slushy with memory and snow, to a freight train barreling through the Midwest, all the way to the moon, it feels like everything and everyone is crying out in pain, arching towards love. Love is that inhospitable land, beckoning and then rejecting us. To love this place, this earth, this America, this body takes work. It might be difficult. The best things are.

Written by Will Arbery"

3. a bunch memes showing many simple characters committing or having committed violent acts, some have blood all around them and/or are bleeding. /end ID]

[moe-broey]

Alfonse's faith in Ratatoskr and the fucking dynamic is so fucking insane though. Like. I'm in fucking awe. She knows EVERYTHING about him. Way too much about him. He knows next to nothing about her. All he knows is the first impression (saddest wettest poorest little thang in the whole wide world) and that she was sent to kill him. Lightning fast judgement and assessment of her character and he fucking. Decides. I'm going to put my life on the line for you because I trust that you trust me. That you know me enough to trust me. Even though you're a stranger to me. Even though it's been previously established that I have one million interpersonal issues and trouble letting people in. Dude what the FUCK

[lavrach]

I HAAAAAAAAAATE Adobe like HOW IS A PLUG-IN MISSING I INSTALLED ILLUSTRATOR 2 SECONDS AGO??????????????????

[gomtangii]

oh my my my!

caleb x fem!reader wc: 1.027k (the nctzen in me is screaming) cw: minors and ageless dni, caleb is insane, cunnilingus, pet names (princess, pipsqeuak), caleb has endless stamina again, fat cock caleb, cock-drunk reader, mating press, slight breeding kink, p in v penetration, unprotected sex, unrealistic sex lol, i did not mean to write this much actually, not edited!

TIME: 11:12 PM LOCATION: SKYHAVEN, CALEB'S APARTMENT: LIVING ROOM

...what did he say? all you did was confront caleb about why the two of you haven't had sex yet, but what did he just say?

"my... penis... is too big." he mutters shyly, a blush spread across his cheeks and ears paired with an expression you've never seen on his face before. you stare at him, mouth agape. you take a moment to to process what he said before stifling a laugh, making caleb frown even more.

"that's it?"

"i'm being serious! i don't want to hurt you."

you smile at him with a sigh, a bit relieved that was his answer. you place a kiss on his cheek that he grumpily accepts, pulling you close to him.

"sounds like you're just going to have to do a better job at prepping me then," you smirk, a hint of mirth in your voice. the look in his eye changes, arousal pooling in his irises.

"is that a challenge, pipsqueak?" he cocks an eyebrow, pulling you closer to him by the waist, "i'm just not sure if you can handle it."

"is that a challenge?" you glare at him, suddenly feeling yourself get competitive too. it's not like you were going to lose, right?

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

TIME: 1:39 AM LOCATION: SKYHAVEN, CALEB'S APARTMENT: YOUR BEDROOM

you were, however, indeed losing.

you blink past the stars that caleb was making you see. it's been about 2 hours since he started eating you out, his licks and bites relentless. he gives one last harsh suck to your clit before pulling away, looking at the art he's created.

you're shaking, your pussy became puffy thanks to his ministrations, and there are countless bites and marks around your thighs.

"looks like you bit off more than you could chew, hm? princess?" he kisses your temple, caressing your hair and arms to calm you down from your nth orgasm.

"can... still take more..." you mumble, gripping onto his shirt, frustrated that he's still clothed while you were stripped naked. you feels his hands drag against your arms, your abdomen, before reaching just above your mound.

"you sure? we still got a bit more before you can actually fit me." he warns, his fingers dangerously close to your entrance. you nod, but he ignores it. "words, baby, need you to say it out loud for me."

"mm—" you moan, feeling his fingers graze your clit, "i... i can take it! just fuck me already!"

he plunges two fingers into you and you cum immediately, squirting onto his palm. his hands were big, you knew that, but they were reaching places you couldn't manage to touch yourself.

"fuck, you're so wet," he groans, sucking another mark onto your neck as he fucks his hand into you, "maybe i don't need to do this—maybe you can fit me like this."

he takes his fingers out and you whine, trying to pull him back in. he ignores you, using his other hand to hold both of your wrists above your head as he licks his essence off of his fingers, not wanting to waste a single drop.

he unbuckles his belt swiftly, letting his cock spring out, the tip angry and leaking with precum. it's drenched with its own cum because he couldn't hold back, your moans and whines were enough for him to climax without being touched—if only you knew the effect you had on him. he presses his cock against your entrance and you shudder at his size, suddenly unsure if you could really take it. you try to shy away, scooting your body away from him when he catches you, caging you in his arms as he pins you down.

"aw, don't tell me you're scared now?" he laughs, being uncharacteristically mean. he pushes the tip of his dick a bit further into you, slowly stretching you out with a groan.

"if you can't take it anymore, you just gotta say the word." you glare at him, yanking on his arm to pull his face closer to yours.

"i already said 'fuck me!'"

"as you wish," he smirks, "gotta give my girl what she wants, hm?"

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

TIME: 3:54 AM, YOU THINK. LOCATION: SKYHAVEN, YOU THINK. YOUR BEDROOM... YOU THINK.

you're on all fours, trying to get away from caleb as he pounds you mercilessly, his cum spilling out of your cunt and pooling onto the sheets. his cock is so, so big, you think you're cumming with every thrust, but you're not sure. you don't know how many times you've cum tonight, but you do know that he's made you pass out a few times.

"c-can't... can't..." you cry softly, the pleasure too much for your poor pussy to handle.

"say the word, then. then we'll be at 1 - 0." he taunts, "do you even remember the word, baby?"

you gulp down a sob, nodding while humming weakly as he slows down his thrusts to give you the chance to speak.

"i-i—" you stutter, your mind hazy with cock, "caleb—"

"my name isn't a safeword," he chuckles, "it's Linkon, okay?"

you nod and he smiles sweetly, kissing your forehead before tossing you onto your back, slowly pushing your thighs up and into a mating press.

"just a bit more," he kisses you again, starting up his thrusts once more, "just one more and then it'll be your win."

he resumes the pace he had before, the sound reverberating throughout the bedroom. it's almost animalistic, the marks and bites all over your body, the way your pussy can't even hold in his cum anymore—it's almost like he's trying to breed you, trying to make it stick. you cum weakly, squirting a bit as your eyes roll back. at this point, it's not just stars you're seeing, you can see the entire deepspace tunnel thanks to him. he feels the way your cunt convulses around him and he grunts, unable to stall any longer and he fills you up one last time. his cum floods your womb and spills out, only adding to the mess below you two.

"i guess it's 0 - 1 now. too bad i lost," he says with a smile.

oopsies... caleb u r my muse... also the safeword line has been all over my tl so i couldn't help but implement it! showed up at the perfect time :3

also i actually do not have any ideas on good safewords to use for the men... if yall wanna send some my way in my ask so i can use them in future fics !!!!!

[fushitoru]

helloooo i literally ADOREEE your writing and have read ALL of your jjk works istg!!! i was wondering if you had any recs for any series? ive been in a slump lately and i rlly wanna read some new fics but cant find any :((

oh i gotchu. all of these are NSFW (unless otherwise indicated), well written, and untragic ending (uhhh unless i remember wrong, some of these i read a long time ago) because i'm picky and a pussy.

completed

gojo satoru

convergence theory (ao3)

canon au, marriage of convenience au. tension is well written, and gojo is a little shit lke he would be in canon. beautiful and yummy characterization of him as the complex character he is.

shame on me by @starmapz

canon au. i love how gojo is written, and i love trish's writing style, lol. reader has a curse inside her, like sukuna is inside yuji, and gojo comes to take her to jjt. it's very well written the yearning >

games and matches by @lostfracturess

modern au, dad's best friend au. AHHH HE'S SOSOSO FINE IN THIS like i need him so bad. i just love reader's inner conflict and also the drama. i need dilf gojo <3

pandora's box by @c0pkiller

priest au. it's just so interesting to see them battle their impulses and what their religion has told them to do. the pining is chef's kiss, and satoru is realllyyy sweet in this one. i didn't know what to expect when i was reading it but wow it was very, very well written.

moonlight (ao3)

canon au, mating bond au. sort of omega verse but not really. the sexual tension is INSANE and it's genuinely so well written. the angst is delicious and the comfort that follows is even more delicious.

family formation by @dellalyra

found family au in canon universe. i love this one, super fluffy and well written. it's super domestic, and very comforting. i love gojo (as a father and daddy :p)

ukiyo (ao3)

secret marriage au in canon. super flufy as well baha gojo is adorbs :3

baby steps by @lemonlover1110

pregnancy au, and if i remember correctly canon au. the tea in this is crazyyy actually, and i felt the angst as gojo and reader grappled with the pregnancy. i loved the ending, it felt so rewarding <3

nanami kento

inflitration by @pseudowho

canon au, fake marriage au. i loved the pining in this. It had a lot of my favorite tropes, including forced proximity, the classic making out to avoid getting caught, and fake marriage (to overthrow a cult). also haitch writes this man beautifully so ik it was going to a banger

strangers in love by @ayyy-pee

exes to lover au, and the angst hurts really good. they make up very well by the end and i love this series a lottt. lexi writes conflicts out so beautifully, and im so in love. the end had me on my toes but i was so glad nanami pulled thru <3

your best friend's brother by @delirious-donna

modern au, best friend's brother au. the humor is done amazingly well, and their writing style is amazing. The sexual tension is actually INSANE there were times I was screaming at them to fuck because of the chemistry they had :3

toji fushiguro

unscripted (ao3) by @ryowriten / @kasukuna

modern au, toji's a erotic va in this. ITS SO FUNNy and megumi is super super silly. reader is so me coded (she's a loser basically) and toji is super hot. the sexual tension is amazing and it feels like reading a rom com.

sukuna ryomen

hesitance by @yenayaps

modern au, gym employees au SO FLUFFFYYY READER IS ME. i love sukuna like this, where he's so down bad. the ending is sooo sweeet it'll make you cry

defiance by @yenayaps

heian era au. GRAAHHHHHH THIS ONE WAS SO SWEET IT'S SO CUTE LIKE THE ENDING MADE ME CRY BC IT WAS SO SWEET. everyone needs to read this one, i love heian era aus like this

ongoing (BUT i have very strong faith that they are going to be finished because the authors are active with frequent updates. otherwise i'll kms live on camera)

what you know by @starmapz

sukuna x reader college AU. SUPER self indulgent, sukuna is such a cutie. i would even say found family au because sukuna takes care of his brothers and AHHH IT'S ADORABLEEE <3 it's also really steamy bc sukuna is SO HOT so :333

kickoff by @celestie0

gojo x reader, college AU. oh my god i love this series gojo is so lore accurate if he was a college student in 2024. he's just ughhhh so well written you will have such a crush on him. also reader is a baddie too what can i say

in holy matrimony by @celestie0

gojo x reader, modern au, fake marriage au. the banter in this is BEAUTIFUL it's so fucking funny. it's sort of like a rom com, and the angst is just written so beautifully. reader is just a girl :(

motherhood and matrimony by @alygator77

gojo x reader, fake marriage au ceo au. AHH THIS FIC IS MY GUILTY PLEASURE. please im always on my toes with this one, reader's a single mom and her son's interaction w gojo are sooo cute. gojo best dad :(

controller by @yenayaps

sukuna x reader, ceo au. i haven't gotten the chance to fully read this one but WOW seeing the tags + knowing how sienna writes this is gonna be FIRE

angels in the snow (ao3)

nanami x reader, strangers to lovers. don't be afraid to pick this one up just because it's ongoing, you'll feel very satisfied because it feels like a collection (and has 52 chapters already) than an incomplete series. nanami and reader meet at an airport and have to drive home together bc their flight gets canceled. the progression of their relationship is so sweet, and he's suchhh a green flag. very comfy <3

[least-transmcytshowdown]

ZombieCleo:

Submitted for: Hermitcraft, Pirates SMP, Witchcraft SMP, Third Life, Last Life, Double Life, Limited Life, Secret Life, Wild Life

Headcanons: Transfem Nonbinary, she/they; Demi-girl, pronouns not specified

Propaganda: Uses she/they irl and has identified with the nonbinary flag

“T4T cletho. They’re both nonbinary and divorced (in an active relationship) and take turns on who's the ex wife and who's the ex husband.”

TibbyCaps:

Submitted for: Artimators SMP

Headcanons: Trans man, he/him

Propaganda: Trans man irl

“[The submitter is] here for Tibby and Tibby only please make him win. He's literally trans and also really cool.”

“PLEASE, IF HE WINS AGAINST XB [the submitter] WILL COSPLAY HIM.”

“His shield in Artimators is a trans flag!”

“Vote Tibbycaps, [the submitter is] going insane, because, yes, not only he is irl trans. But how does everyone miss that he just is trans??? [They] don't even know how to describe it. Like, he just feels so trans. As a person. The gender is strong with him. Even if he were cis he'd still be trans. Does that make sense? Like. Augggg [they don’t know] how to actually. Put this into words. [They] can't handle this, Tibby is the best, most transest, he deserves to win this!!”

“Tibby is the awesomest!! Vote for Tibby, his art is so, so cool and awesome!! Also he's the transiest trans to ever. Trans. And that's coming from a trans person >:3”

“Tibby isn't a trans man, he's the man that transed up. Or trans that manned up. Either way, vote Tibbycaps.”

“Vote Tibbycaps!!!! He's [the submitter’s] favorite youtuber and he is so cool and awesome :D He's so trans the energy just. Exudes off of him. Like you can't hear him talk for more than five seconds without going "Yea that guys trans" /pos. Go watch Tibbycaps if you wanna see for yourself. Sub to Tibby”

“Tibbycaps is so trans he could be like "I'm the trans fairy, fairy of the trans," and [the submitter would] be like “Yes Tibby, you're so right Tibby. Vote Tibbycaps.”

“Tibbycaps is the bestttttt, vote Tibbycaps! Hes:

-trans, like so trans

-autism (boy autism (<-/ref))

-such a good artist!!

-fucking HILARIOUS

-makes such good videos

-has good vibes all around

-[the submitter’s] comfort streamer”

“Vote Tibby, he is so awesomes. Literally, The guy of all time. Can't beat him.”

“​​VOTE TIBBYCAPS OR [the submitter is] STEALING YOUR GENDER!!”

“Tibby is such a cool person with such great vibes. Creator of Skizzlehell in Artimators. Has the objectively correct opinion that Cubfan135 could perform top surgery. Has such good art, [the submitter wants to] eat it. Ya can't beat the TibbyCaps.”

“The T in Tibby stands for trans.

The I stands for incredibly trans.

The first B stands for blue hair and.

The second B stands for bronouns (not bronouns like, bro, dude, etc. Bronouns like you flipped the p on its head. It's doing a handstand).

The Y stands for yes, that man is trans.

VOTE TIBBY.”

“VOTE TIBBYCAPS, HE HAS A BOATING LICENSE.

[judyvan]

No Hands - Chris Sturniolo Fanfic

｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Summary: After picking on Chris for being an extremely touchy person, the two of you make a bet. Will Chris be able to control himself long enough to win?

Warnings: MDNI/ smut/ chrisxfem!reader/ bf!chris/ unprotected p n v (use a fucking rubber)/ oral (fem receiving)/ touchy! chris x needy! reader/ competitive! chris/ use of "you"/couldn't tell ya how many words

A/N: Time for a Chris fanfic! I am still new to writing, so bear with me. The song loosely relates to the fic. Interactions are appreciated! Pls don't steal my shit. Thx!💋

｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

"Keep your filthy fucking paws off of me," Nick says pushing his brother, Chris, away from him. Chris had wrapped his arm around Nick's shoulders as the two of them spoke.

Your boyfriend Chris is probably the most physically affectionate person that you know. He is always eager to touch those he cares about the most. Whenever it comes to you, Chris loses all self-control. He needs to be touching you in some way at all times; like he'll go insane without the feeling of your body against his in some way, shape, or form.

"You have got to be the touchiest motherfucker that I know, seriously," Nick continues, dusting the remanence of Chris' hands off of his shoulders.

"Shut up," Chris chuckles, pushing Nick backwards.

Nick looks up shocked. His eyes move back and forth from yours and Matt's, Nick and Chris' other brother. You and Matt begin to laugh uncontrollably.

"Please tell me you two fucking see this. I mean this is absurd! Even when I ask him not to touch me, he touches me. It's crazy!" Nick states completely dumbfounded.

Chris is laughing along with you and Matt. He begins to walk towards Matt, reaching out to grab his arm as he loses control of his body.

"Don't bring that shit over here," Matt says out of breath, wiping the tears from his eyes, failing to reel himself in.

Chris looks at you through squinted eyes. You simply open your arms as he walks towards you. He knew that you wouldn't turn down his touch. Chris stands in front of you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head in the crook of your neck, laughing profusely into your skin.

"Can we please talk about this?!" Nick begins, still completely shocked. "I have never seen anything like this. Like he actually needs to be studied. He has always been "touchy feely", but ever since he got a girlfriend, it has multiplied by a gabillion." The room is still filled with the laughter of Chris and Matt, yours no longer producing noise.

"I mean seriously, I feel so bad for you. I can guarantee that you never get a fucking second to just breathe!" Nick exclaims.

You somehow manage to catch your breath and gain composure.

"It doesn't bother me. I've gotten used to it," you reply, rubbing your hand up and down Chris' back, attempting to calm him down.

Nick releases a scoff, letting you know that he doesn't believe you.

"Anyways, back to what I was saying," Nick begins shaking his head. He's looking at you, the only one stable enough to understand him. "Me and Matt are going to the store; do you want us to get you guys anything; besides some fucking giggle juice?"

"No, I think that's all we need," you reply, letting out a small laugh. Your whole body is now shaking at the intensity of Chris' reaction to Nick's last statement.

"Alright, we will be back in a few hours," Nick says, practically dragging Matt out of the door, him and Chris continuing to crack up.

The door shuts and Chris is eventually able to control himself. He pulls his head out of your neck and looks in your eyes, a huge grin spread across his face.

"Let's go to my room and find something to do until they get back," Chris says, his fingers running up and down your sides. You meet his lips with a short peck.

"I've got something in mind," you say smirking at him.

The two of you walk to Chris' room, holding hands of course. You have been trying to convince Chris to watch all of your favorite movies and now is the perfect time to start. Chris turns on the movie, "Five Feet Apart," and the two of you lay in his bed. As the film goes on, you can't help but think about what Nick was saying earlier. You are now very observant of how often Chris asks for a kiss or squeezes you tighter. When he gets up out of bed to grab a drink, you begin to laugh out loud at your own thoughts. Chris comes back into the room as you're laughing uncontrollably, trying to think of any moment he has spent any amount of time without physical contact.

"What the fuck is so funny?" Chris asks, taking a sip of his Pepsi as he stands in his doorway.

You swing your legs over the side of the bed to face your boyfriend.

"I was just thinking about what Nick was saying. I genuinely cannot think of a time that you went 5 minutes without touching me," you say.

Chris smirks and shakes his head. He begins to walk closer to you.

"Do you really think that I touch you a lot?" he asks, taking another drink.

"What do you mean think? You can't keep your hands off of me," you let out a small laugh.

"Yes, I can," Chris states in a cocky manner. "You touch me just as much as I touch you." He sits his drink down and gives you a smug look, stepping closer to you.

"Fine then. Let's make a deal. Until Nick and Matt get back, we have to keep our hands to ourselves. You can't touch me, and I won't touch you," you flick your brow up as you propose the idea to Chris.

"And why would I do that?" he says, laughing at your playfulness.

“To prove a point.”

Chris looks around the room for a second, thinking about what you said.

“How about we make this a little bit harder, since Nick and Matt aren't here,” he says, an arrogant look on his face. Chris bends down to whisper in your ear. “How about I do some things that make it harder for both of us to keep our hands off of each other.”

He then places an open-mouthed kiss to the spot right behind your ear. He tugs lightly on the bottom of your earlobe before pulling away. The combination of his warm breath, wet kiss, and teeth pulling on your skin, sends a feeling of arousal throughout your body. Chris looks at you with a shit-eating grin on his face, clearly able to see what he's doing to you.

"And why would I that?" you say, mocking him. Chris' eyes trail up and down your body, not missing a single curve.

"If I win, I get to touch you anywhere I want, wherever I want, anytime I want for a week, and you don't get to say shit to me about it." Chris runs his tongue across his bottom lip as he finishes his sentence. Just the thought of having any part of you at his fingertips whenever he pleased made him grow hard.

"And if I win," you start, noticing the tent forming at the crotch of his pants, " I get to wear as little as I want, whenever I want, and you can look all you want, but you can't touch, for a week." You smile up at Chris, seeing him picture you in the smallest article of clothing in his head.

"I think you've got yourself a deal," Chris says, moving even closer to you.

You lift off of the bed slightly, sliding your hands underneath of your ass, pressing them into the bed. Chris places his hands on the bed, one on either side of your hips. Your lips connect almost immediately, the two of you aching to touch now that you can't. The kiss is deep and passionate, the both of you long for more. You remove your hands from underneath you, pulling off the shirt and pants you're wearing. Chris' lips leave yours and meet your collarbone without hesitation. His hungry kisses across your skin deepen your desire for him to touch you. Chris has seen you in a bra and underwear plenty of times. Removing your clothes doesn't seem to faze him much.

"This is too easy," you say, a smile spreading across your face. Your hands reach behind your back and unbuckle your bra. You drop it on the floor, scoot away from Chris, and lay down on the bed.

Chris stands up completely. His eyes roam over your entire body, lingering on your breasts. Lacking a good poker face, Chris' expression confirmed that you just made things 10 times harder for him, in multiple different ways. He tugs at his bottom lip as he soaks in the amount of skin you have exposed.

"That's not fair," he laughs, his eyes touching every part of your figure that his hands should be feeling.

Chris removes all of his clothes, only leaving his boxers. Your eyes trail over his body. Your eyes widen when you see the bulge in his underwear. A small chuckle escapes Chris' lips at your face. His eyes never leave yours as he removes his underwear seductively, his entire body now on display.

"Now we're even," he says. Chris moves across the room and climbs on top of you, careful to keep both of his hands on the bed.

The air chills your uncovered body. Chris' lips only momentarily heating the areas that they touch. It isn't enough. You need his hands on you. Messy kisses are placed all around your frame as he travels down you. After reaching the waist band of your underwear, Chris moves directly to your inner thighs, devouring them. Your hips begin to buck upwards, wanting his mouth on the place covered by soaked fabric.

"Take them off," Chris says placing a single gentle peck to the front of your underwear.

You shake your head while biting your lip. You earnestly wanted his hands on you and refused to help him out any longer.

"You do it," you said, your heart racing.

"I'm not losing this bet," he responds placing a gentle kiss to either side of your pelvic bone. Suddenly, his tongue slides under the left side wing of your underwear. He pinches the material between his teeth and slides one side of your underwear down to your thigh. He slowly moves to the right side of your body and performs the same motion. His intention is to draw this process out as long as he can, hoping you'll cave. Tongue, bite, pull, switch. Tongue, bite, pull, switch. As soon as one side reaches your ankle, you begin to shake them off yourself, flinging them into the floor.

"Someone's impatient," Chris smiles. He knows you won't last much longer.

His head dives between your legs, his tongue licking up the need that is dripping from you. You let out a whimper, gripping onto the bed sheets, miserably trying to keep your hands busy. Chris' tongue splits you in half as his nose applies pressure to your clit. He begins to speed up his motion, his tongue now forming small circles around your most sensitive area. Your legs begin to squeeze inward, Chris' head between them acting as a magnet. You can't help but squirm, the intense feeling of pleasure taking over your body. All of your movement is making it difficult for Chris. He is unable hold your legs down, forcing them to stay put.

"If you don't stop moving, I'm going to have to stop," he says, momentarily pulling his lips off of you.

Your moans get louder as Chris proceeds to eat you out. Your legs begin to shake as you attempt to keep from moving, not wanting him to quit. His tongue slips inside of your opening. Your back arches off of the bed. He begins to eat you as sloppily as he can, wanting more than just his tongue to be inside of you. Your toes start to curl. He begins to shake his head back and forth, his tongue flicking in all directions, only stopping to suck on your ball of nerves. You cling onto the sheets for dear life. You're starting to get close. Don't do it. Your hands lose their hold on the bedsheets and find themselves in Chris' hair as you practically levitate off of the bed.

"Oh fuck!" you scream, on the edge of release.

Chris pulls away from you. You did touch him after all. Suddenly his eyes meet yours from in between your legs. His thumb brushes over his lips, gathering all of your remnants before sucking them off of his skin.

"I win," he says with a cocky smirk.

In a swift motion, Chris grabs your leg and throws it over his shoulder, plunging himself inside of you, burying his dick as deep in your walls as possible. As he thrusts in and out of you frantically, his hands touch every part of your body, making up for lost time. The two of you moan loudly at the feeling of him touching you inside and out. It doesn't take long before your stomach clenches and you reach your orgasm, Chris' warm cum coating your insides at the same time. As the two of you ride out your high, your hands continue to feel every part of each other. Chris slumps on top of you, wrapping his arms around you, and burying his face in your chest. Your arms embrace him, pulling him closer. After a few moments of relishing the feeling of you both on top of one another, Chris leaves your body to grab a towel and pull on his clothes. As he cleans you up, he makes sure to touch you in every way he can. He throws the towel on the floor and grabs your clothes, insisting on dressing you as well. He starts with your underwear and pants, wanting to see you topless as long as possible. Before putting your bra back on, he takes your breasts in both of his hands and squeezes, kissing you tenderly.

"You better get used to that," he says, pulling away from your mouth and sliding your bra on. "I've got a whole 7 days to do that whenever I want."

For the next week, Chris took as much advantage of his prize as possible. When meeting up with his family he would hug you as long and hard as he could. When around his brothers at home, he would palm your ass with both hands, squeezing roughly and kissing you with passion. Even when hanging out in public settings with your friend group, you would find at least one of his hands wandering from your thigh and meeting the sweet spot in between your legs.

｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

To see how Chris takes advantage of him reward in more detail, click here to read: 7 Days (“No Hands” Extension)

[abbotfan]

FUZZY PINK HANDCUFFS

jack abbot x reader (AFAB)

based on this request: "Handcuffing him to the bed while you sit on top of him, taking him insanely slow as he loses his mind 😊😊😊"

note: i blacked out when i wrote this dont ask me any questions this is my first time posting smut and i hate it but here we are

warnings: mdni, handcuffed s3x lmao, p in v, uhh idk what ppl usually put here i will probably edit more in later

"you sure about this?"

he was too kind for his own good. you wanted to absolutely ruin this man the way you had been imagining for months on end and here he was asking if you were sure. he was actually worried you had changed your mind.

you laughed, reaching into your nightstand drawer and pulling out a pair of handcuffs, "are you?"

he watched the pieces of metal with pink fuzz around the outside dangle from your index finger.

your heart jumped at the way he looked back at you— lust filled his hazel gaze. you loved every second of it... but that wasn't enough.

"i need a verbal conf-"

he pulled you against his body, a hand holding your waist to keep you pressed against his crotch. he was rock hard already, it was enough to make you smile.

"yes, i'm sure."

"good, because i am too. now strip."

-

jack was putty in your hands and you both knew it. he was straining against the handcuffs keeping him cuffed to the bed every time you touched him.

you were taking things slow, savoring every second you had him like this; it was potent. you had the object of all your desires practically dying just to touch you.

"sweetheart, please."

"please, what?"

"let me touch you."

you smiled. he was begging and you were smiling.

"i'm not above begging," he added, patience running thin, "please."

you dragged a hand over the taught muscles of his stomach, watching them jump under his skin, "you know the safe word, jack. if you want out, just say it."

and oh, wasn't that an interesting expression. jack abbot, rugged veteran with more demons than you could count, pained by something so simple. he could get out of those handcuffs in seconds if he just said the word, but he refused.

you fucking loved it... how could you not?

you pulled down your red lace panties and sat on his sturdy thighs. you couldn't miss the way he groaned as you grazed his dick, giving you another head rush. he leaned up to kiss you hungrily, his mouth almost bruising your soft lips. you almost caved and un-cuffed him yourself just so you could feel his needy hands on your body.

you pulled away, your forehead resting against his, "color?"

"green."

he stared at you with a determined look that told you he had meant what he said.

"good, because i wanna ride you... is that okay?"

"jesus, yes, yeah that's- that's great."

God, he could be such a dork.

you wasted no time putting the condom on his already leaking cock— as much as you hated to admit it, you were starting to get impatient too.

you lined yourself up and started sinking down onto his length when he first whimpered.

"fuck, you feel so good, sweetheart."

your head fell on his shoulder as he bottomed out, "shit, jack."

you could feel him sucking on the skin at your shoulder as he left a hickey.

when you finally started moving, you took it slow; your hips slowly ground against his so you could memorize how he felt.

"sweetheart, please."

"so needy," you hummed, gasping when he bucked up, "and impatient."

jack was putting his mouth on any skin he could reach, tugging against the handcuffs to leave little kisses everywhere.

you started riding him properly now, keeping a slow pace as his breathing got more and more ragged.

"you're doing great for me, jack," you mused with a particularly slow grind, making him let out another pained whine.

your hips started rolling at a much faster pace, now chasing your own pleasure, and he took that opportunity to start bucking into you too.

"i'm close, fuck."

"yeah? me too, sweetheart."

you rolled your hips in the exact way that made him go breathless just a few more times and he came with a string of expletives flying out of his mouth. you continued riding him until you came too, your whole body feeling the release at once.

you were out of it, still a bit woozy from your orgasm when you hear him say it.

"tapestry."

you grab the key from the nightstand and rush to unlock the cuffs, "you okay? fuck, i'm sorry."

he stared at you with intense sincerity, "you did nothing wrong, why are you apologizing?"

"you said the safe word...?"

he smiled, rolling out his arms, "i wanted to help you clean up."

"oh."

jack went to the connected bathroom and came back with a wet hand towel and lotion. you massaged him with the lotion while he clean off your body with the damp towel. it was comfortable, pleasant, and incredibly easy.

when it was all said and done, he saved you a spot next to him on the bed. you curled up next to him and started drifting into sleep.

"next time, you're getting cuffed," he murmured.

[shushmal]

The latest Family Video customer is barely through the door before Eddie explodes, "Ugh, Tyler."

Beside him, Steve scoffs in agreement, nose wrinkled with distaste. He's so hot. "Yeah, exactly, uugh."

"That should be his middle name. Ugh," Robin chimes in. Eddie's so glad they're in agreement about the bleach-spiked punk guy that graduated three years ago but is still bumming around Hawkins. "Steve, I can't believe you dated that guy."

Seriously, Tyler is the worst— Wait, what—?

"Wait," Eddie says, gaping at Robin. "What?"

"You could barely call it dating," Steve huffs.

"You were together for a month and a half," Robin says. She's got this evil grin on her face and is pointedly not looking at Eddie who is very desperate for Robin to look at him right now, please. "You drove that bum to Indy every weekend. He broke up with you on Valentine's day."

Eddie's weak "Tyler? Tyler Teaks?" gets completely ignored.

"I—" Steve says with haughty emphasis. "—broke up with him on Valentine's day. Don't get it twisted, Buckley."

Robin snorts and finally glances at Eddie. "Steve only broke up with him because the guy blew him off. On Valentine's Day. Which is basically getting broken up with," she tells him, and ignores it when Eddie whimpers at her.

"Yeah, but I'm the one to ended it!" Steve insits.

Eddie, finally, finds his voice, and says, "Tyler Teaks?! Harrington!"

"Ugh," Steve says, slumping against the counter. "I know." He cuts a glare over at Eddie after a moment. "I blame you for this."

"Me?!" Eddie shrieks, incredulous. He's pretty sure he's stepped into another parallel world. Perpendicular world? A world where Steve apparently dates guys—and guys like Tyler Teaks, no less. Eddie's sure he's gone completely batshit insane. "What the hell did I do?!"

Steve stands, cocking his hip the side, and looks down his handsome nose at Eddie. "You wouldn't be my New Year's kiss at Tina's party," he says. "So I had to settle for Tyler Teaks instead."

"What the fuck?" Eddie says, completely lost. "What—? You—? Tina—? KISS—?!"

Beside them, Robin is grinning, laughing, eyes going back and forth between them, munching on a stolen back of skittles—her own personal dramedy on stage before her.

"Yep," Steve says, popping the P. He looks distinctly bitter. "Pulled my best moves on you, and you turned me down."

"Steve," Eddie breathes. He reaches out, places both hands on Steve's shoulders, intent. The eye contact he forces Steve into is desperate. "I don't even remember getting to Tina's New Year's Party." He takes a deep breath. "I woke up in her mom's pantry the next morning with no shoes and no memory of how I got there."

Finally, Steve cracks, a big smile stretching his face. Robin cackles. "Yeah, I kind of figured as much," Steve sighs, wistful now. "You told me, and I quote, 'Steve Harrington, you are very beautiful and I want to have a summer wedding because you'd look beautiful-er with sunflowers'—"

"Don't forget the 'you look so hot in that sweater' part."

"—'But actually, I am a very straight man. So very super straight.' And then you crouched down on the floor and crawled away." Steve is biting his lip now to keep from laughing. Robin is not so nice. "Like I couldn't see you, and the handkerchief flagging in your pocket."

"Oh my god."

"Don't worry, it was really cute," Steve says, grinning. "But, I still needed a New Year's kiss, and unfortunately for everyone involved, Tyler was my only willing choice."

"Oh my god."

"Totally duped me though, he was super sweet the entire night," Steve sighs. His mouth is twisted into genuine regret now. "Plus, the next week, you acted like you'd never spoken to me before, so—"

"OH MY GOD."

Steve and Robin give him twin grimaces. Robin's is a lot more sympathetic. Steve's is confused. "Listen, man," Steve tries to soothe. "I'm sure that's pretty embarrassing, but it was a cute story! No hard feelings, I promise."

Robin's sympathetic grimace deepens.

"No," Eddie says, standing up straight. "I refuse. There is no way I turned down Steve Harrington for a New Year's kiss. There is no way."

"Wait—"

"Eddie, where—"

Eddie marches for the door, digging his keys out of his pockets. "Good-bye friends, I must go see a supergirl about time travel."

[angelofdawnbreak]

HORNY SNOWAPPLECROWMC THOUGHTS LAWRD

ofc 18+ only

(added a p link I found bc it's SOOOO OOUGH so make sure you have Twitter open)

Snowapplecrowmc have been on my mind bc that DYNAMIC.

At first it was Zayne x Mc, then Zayne x Mc x Sylus then Caleb joined the mix and at first it was really difficult to get him to share MC OR Zayne with Sylus. They're his best friends not Sy's >:(

But after awhile Sylus breaks down his walls and instead of one sub (mc) y'all get TWOOO (sub Caleb, pathetic Caleb....)

HERES HOW I THINK IT WOULD BE

Applecrow would definitely be Sylus commanding most if it, in the beginning Caleb kept trying to take control, he's a fleet colonel! He's used to calling the shots, but Sylus is a goooood brat tamer and makes Caleb putty in his hands. He'll have Caleb bent over the bed absolutely going to town while telling him what a good pup he is! Taking it so well!

I'm all for the slut Caleb agenda too, that man is a WHORE for his lovers. If he's out with just Sylus best believe they're probably doing it in public, sucking dick in the bathroom? Check! Backseat quickie? Absolutely! They go AT IT, and Caleb definitely whines during it.

Snowapple

They're childhood best friends so I believe the dynamic is different, definitely awkward at first but it felt pretty natural later one. Zayne is also a brat tamer and keeps Caleb in check.

He's not for public stuff, but at home? FREAKS. Caleb says something bratty and Zayne has him over his lap in SECONDS until his ass is a pretty shade of red, or he's cockcaging Caleb and making him watch him and Sylus fuck MC just to punish him. I think actual sex tho he's gentle with Caleb. Definitely likes missionary and cowgirl (boy?) So he can watch Caleb's expressions

Applecrow

TWO BRAT TAMERS GO AT IT. When they go at it together they go HARD. Both completely covered in marks. Zays more tame meanwhile Sylus is fuckin Zayne like he wants to get that man pregnant (he does)

Snowapplecrowmc

All four of y'all? Insane. Zayne and Sylus and inside you while you suck Caleb off, they switch and Sylus is fucking Zayne who's fuckin Caleb while he fucks you, switch and Caleb and Sylus are making out and jerking eachother off while they watch you and Zayne 69 LISTEN I HAVE IDEAAAASSS I might write a big smut fic about this omfg

[7-deadly-cats]

killing me softly | 1

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | N E X T ->

✿ G E N R E ✿ she fell first, he fell harder | slice of life | drama

✿ P A I R I N G ✿ s1!rafe cameron x overthinking!reader (f)

✿ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ✿ swearing, suggestive language, awkward & nervous reader, hints at a mini panic attack

✿ W O R D C O U N T ✿ 2.1k+

✿ A / N ✿ i haven't written this kind of stuff since like 8th grade (i recently graduated from university sooo yeah) but i kinda felt the urge to go back to writing now and idk. there are so many smut involved fics on here (which isn't bad, i just need more softer slow burn stuff). not saying there won't be any mildly suggestive stuff in future parts hihihihi. also i have no clue how the american school system works (i'm from europe) so pls just accept this lol. anyway, this is for all my introverted and overthinking girlies (who may or may not be kinda insane) <3

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

W E E K O N E // M O N D A Y

Fuck my life.

That was the first thing on your mind as Mr. Smith announced the partners for the upcoming two-week project in art class. In pairs, you were supposed to create a reinterpretation of the Greek gods.

The assignment itself wasn’t the problem. In fact, it actually sounded kind of fun. But your partner? Yeah, that was the real issue.

Fucking Rafe Cameron.

Of all the people in this class, it had to be him.

You didn’t even know why he'd chosen Art in the first place. Rafe was probably the last guy you’d expect to take an art elective—well, right after Kelce Statter.

He'd probably thought it was an easy class to boost his GPA.

Rookie mistake.

Okay, whatever, it was just a small project. You could handle this.

NO, YOU COULDN’T, HOLY SHIT.

The thought of working with Rafe made your skin crawl. In all your years at Kildare Academy, you'd maybe exchanged two words with him—and that was only because he'd mistaken you for another girl.

"Y/n, right?" Rafe appeared at your desk at the end of class, a bored expression on his face.

Okay, okay, just act normal. Be nice.

You nodded. "Yeah."

Rafe stared at you for a moment, probably waiting for you to say more. His eyebrows furrowed slightly before he tilted his head. "Cool, okay. Let’s just meet up during lunch break and get this over with."

Did he seriously think you could finish a two-week project in one lunch break?

When he saw the look on your face, he raised his brows in amusement, his tone teasing. "What? You too busy?"

Your cheeks heated up as you shook your head. "No, lunch sounds good."

"Aight, then let’s meet after fifth period." Before you could ask for a place, he turned around and disappeared out of the classroom.

You frowned. This was off to a great start.

Just two weeks, you reminded yourself as you slung your bag over your shoulder and headed to math class.

On the way, you unlocked your phone to text your bestie Cara:

You shoved your phone away and tried to ignore the uneasiness creeping into your stomach. You didn’t usually have trouble talking to guys but Rafe Cameron was a whole different story. Not because he was "too cool" or some dumb shit like that.

No, Rafe was just... intimidating. Not in that bad-boy, cringe Wattpad kind of way. It was something else, something you couldn’t quite put into words.

He wasn’t arrogant, he was proud. He was loud, but not in the annoying way Kelce Statter was. He wasn’t rude—he just said whatever the hell was on his mind.

He was just ... himself. And yet, somehow he wasn't. It felt like there was a lot more going on beneath the surface.

Maybe that’s what made him so interesting to you. Sure, he had a nice face and a well-known name, no doubt about that. But more than anything, you wanted to understand who he was and get to know him.

Was he just a blunt person who didn’t give a fuck, or was there more to him than his looks and his last name?

So yeah, maybe a part of you was curious about him, but he had such an overwhelming presence, you wouldn’t even know where to start.

In the past, he'd had a few friends-with-benefits situations, but none of them had lasted long. And that was definitely a path you didn't want to go down. Under different circumstances, maybe you could but you've never even held hands with a guy, let alone kissed one or—yeah, no, not going there.

Okay, chill. Internally, you cursed Cara for fueling your delusions.

You had more important problems right now anyway. Like math class with Mrs. Richman. And no one could claim you were a star student in that subject.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

The lesson dragged on, your thoughts constantly drifting. After class, you were supposed to meet Rafe.

Rafe, who had PE right now.

Shit. You tried not to think about a sweaty, heavy-breathing, and—NOPE, NOT NOW.

"Okay, that’s it for today. Don’t forget about the math test next week. But for now, go enjoy the nice weather," Mrs. Richman announced, dismissing the class.

Your hands felt clammy as you got up to leave. What the fuck is wrong with me?

You headed to the restroom and washed your hands, trying to get rid of this horrible feeling in your gut. Why were you so nervous about spending one lunch break with Rafe?

Fuck you, social anxiety.

"Everything okay?" A soft voice pulled you from your thoughts. "You look kinda pale."

You turned to see the pretty face of Molly Crane. Red hair, cute freckles, and a super charming smile. She was one of the few Kooks (if any existed at all) who was genuinely nice.

You forced a smile. "Yeah, yeah, all good. I think I just ate something bad for breakfast."

Molly didn't look convinced. "You sure? You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

"Really, thanks, Molly. I’m fine now." With an awkward smile, you excused yourself and headed out, only to realize that, well… great, you and Rafe had never picked a meeting spot.

Brrrt.

Your phone had been buzzing since math class. Of course, it had been Cara.

You rolled your eyes with a smile and texted back.

Should you really wait in front of the gym? That felt weird af. But at the same time, you didn’t want to miss him and end up having an awkward conversation about it in the next art class.

The dining hall would've been the most obvious spot to meet up, but would Rafe actually look for you there?

You pressed your lips together. Fuck it.

Heart pounding, you headed toward the gym.

Good thing your body totally knew how to distinguish between social interaction and actual danger.

When you arrived, you heard muffled voices of the boys inside, along with Coach Brown’s instructions.

Just breathe, it’s just one lunch break, you told yourself. Then again, this was probably how the next two weeks were going to feel.

You held your breath as the gym doors swung open, and a crowd of sweaty—oops wrong—freshly showered boys streamed out.

You awkwardly stepped to the side, ignoring the curious glances thrown your way.

No sign of Rafe yet. A sick feeling settled in your stomach. Even worse than being here and having to explain HOW you knew that he would be here, would be explaining WHY you were standing here if he didn’t actually have PE right now.

OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD.

But then relief washed over you when you spotted Kelce Statter and Topper Thornton. And right behind them—Rafe Cameron.

You tightened your grip on your bag. Okay, okay, I can do this. They’ll probably say bye to Rafe and leave for lunch now.

They didn’t.

Great.

When Rafe spotted you, something flickered in his gaze that you were too afraid to analyze. You expected him to just walk past you but instead, he headed straight toward you. With Kelce and Topper right behind him…

Just smile. No, not like that, you probably look like a creep. Oh god, okay.

"Yo," Rafe greeted you with a slightly puzzled smile as the three of them stopped in front of you. "Didn't expect you here."

In other words: Did you stalk me or how did you know I was here?

Kelce and Topper eyed you with amusement. This is so unbelievably embarrassing.

With heated cheeks, you pointed at the gym bag slung over his shoulder. "Well, I saw you bringing a sports bag today, and PE is usually scheduled right before lunch ... so I just assumed you’d be here."

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Kelce stifling a laugh. You wanted to disappear from Earth, no from this universe. No way anyone would believe--

"Riight," Rafe replied with a lopsided grin. "I would’ve just waited in the dining hall."

…

So you had been right. And you could've saved yourself this painfully awkward moment :)))

G-r-e-a-t.

"Good thinking though, I guess. The faster we get this shitty project over with, the better."

Shit, did Rafe just compliment you? Then again, why did the last sentence sound like he didn't want to work with you? HAHAHAH WHAT AM I EVEN DOING HERE?

You smiled awkwardly. "Exactly."

"You're Y/n Y/l/n, right? Your mom owns Y/l/n Yacht Sales." Topper’s voice cut in, and you were grateful for the topic change.

You nodded with a polite smile. "Yeah."

Was that admiration on Topper’s face?

"Ohh, a business Mommy, I like that", Kelce said, and both Topper and Rafe eyed him with shaking heads.

Topper blinked at him annoyed. "Bro, shut the fuck up for once."

Kelce just giggled.

"My dad bought a Grady-White from you guys recently," Rafe remarked, and your gaze flicked back to his blue eyes.

Jesus, he wasn’t just looking at you—he was staring into your soul. If he was always looking at girls like that you'd gladly be his friends-with-benefits-girl. GIRL WHAT.

You prayed to whatever gods were listening that you didn’t look like an awkward mess. "I remember. A 456 Canyon."

The corner of Rafe’s mouth twitched up. "Yeah, a beauty."

HELP.

Your cheeks heated up like crazy and with that nervous smile on your face you probably looked like a weird cartoon character. SOMEONE SHOOT ME.

"Oh shit, that sounds like a boat party," Kelce chimed in with a grin and looked at you. "If I were you, I’d have thrown a dooozen parties by now. So many possibilities…"

Rafe scoffed amused. "Shit, good thing she isn’t, or her family would be broke by now."

You chuckled awkwardly. I’m so bad at whatever this is, fucking shit.

„Hey, I’m just saying.“ Kelce raised his hands innocently.

Topper tapped him on the chest with the back of his hand. „Okay, dude, and I’m saying we’re leaving now before you say more stupid shit.“ Then he looked at you apologetically and turned his gaze to Rafe. „See you later.“

Rafe just gave him a short nod, his expression hard to read, before turning back to you with a crooked smile as Kelce and Topper disappeared behind the gym. „So, you hungry?“

Why did this situation suddenly feel so… intimate?

It wasn’t. Definitely not. There was absolutely no reason to feel weird about this. And yet—standing here alone with Rafe Cameron was… a lot. Maybe it was the way he looked at you—calm, focused, as if he was actually paying attention.

Or maybe it was the damn wet strands of hair falling into his forehead after his shower.

Get a grip.

You nodded quickly, trying not to overthink it. „The dining hall has quinoa veggie bowls today. Or fries, if you’re not into influencer food.“

Oh God. Was that your attempt at being funny?

Tragic.

Rafe’s lips twitched with amusement. „So, you’re assuming I don’t like quinoa bowls?“

Oh. Oh no.

Heat immediately rushed to your face, and you could feel your cheeks straight up burning. Why the hell did you say that?

„No—I mean…“ You let out a nervous laugh, which sounded more like a weird cough. „Not that you wouldn’t like it, but you’re just more like—uh, not that I’m putting you in a box or anything, but you don’t seem like someone who…“

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. „Someone who eats quinoa?“

You sighed. „Forget it. I’m just talking nonsense.“

„Nah, now I’m curious.“ His voice was amused, almost teasing. „How exactly do I seem?“

You swallowed. Shit.

„Uh…“ Your eyes flickered over him for a second—his broad shoulders, the damp strands of hair falling into his forehead, the fresh polo shirt fitting way too well against his body—oh God, wrong direction.

„I just meant…“ Maybe you should just stop talking and dig your own grave, how about that? You sighed and smiled awkwardly. „Okay, look, I'm sorry if you’re actually a secret quinoa veggie bowl advocate or whatever. I didn’t mean to sound condescending.“

Rafe laughed. Not in a mocking way—no, it was real, boyish, which somehow made it worse because it only made you all the more nervous.

„Nah, shit, I get it,“ he said, shrugging with an amused smile. „Guess I gotta work out more if I’m giving off ‘McDonald’s stan’ vibes.“

Your eyes widened, and you quickly shook your head. „That’s not what—“

„Jesus Christ, relax, I know what you meant.“ He cut you off, tilting his head toward the dining hall. „Now, come on, you can keep judging me in there.“

I am the most embarrassing person alive, you thought, face still burning.

Still, you fell into step beside him, gripping the strap of your bag a little tighter. Brain, could you please shut the hell up? Thanks.

It didn’t.

Because why the fuck did Rafe’s presence feel so overwhelming in the best and worst way possible? And why did his ridiculously good aftershave still linger in the air between you, like some kind of cruel distraction?

And most importantly—how the hell were you supposed to survive two whole weeks of this?

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K M S M A S T E R L I S T | N E X T ->

[adelliet]

Wolverine x f!reader

SILENT HUNT

Summary: You are running from the FBI, spending days hiding and surviving until you meet a man who helped you and saved your life.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, corn with plot, soft Logan, harassment, age gap (reader in 20s Logan in his 30s), reader is much smaller than Logan, mentions of trauma, hunting animals, light fingering, oral (f!receiving), nicknames (sweetie, princess), unprotected sex ( p i v ), aftercare, praise kink, good~sweet ending

A/n: Hey so um I didn't expect it to be so long 0-0 sorry for that…but I hope you're gonna like it (I'm going insane over this man help)

Masterlist

,,She ran this way!” You heard one of the cops shouting. You knew they were up your ass. Despite your speed, sooner or later they will catch up. You couldn't allow that.

You quickly tried to analyze the environment around you and when your eyes spotted a thick bush, you took advantage of it and quickly hid behind it. You couldn't hide here forever, but you wanted to gain some time to think. Terrified, you looked around, desperately trying to find a place where you could hide longer.

"Where did she go?!" You recognized the bitter male voice. It belonged to one of them, actually to the main guy who destroyed you. Who used you and turned you into the monster you are now. He took away your rights, your dignity, your life. He didn't care that he could've killed you. You were just a lab rat to him who had beneficially succeeded his experiment.

Just his tone made your heart rate rise, your claws were pressing against your knuckles, struggling to break through. You concentrate all your nerves for stopping the mutant DNA inside you bubble to the surface. The rage and hatred for the man was incalculable, but you couldn't attack him. At least, not right now. You just had to wait quietly for him and his entire team to leave.

"Fuck! Find her or I'll cut your throat!" he shouted angrily. Then you heard vehicles and thousands of footsteps finally fading away from you. You were holding your breath the whole time, finally relieving yourself and carefully climbed out from the bush. You did have a clear air, for now. Time was precious at the moment and you decided to use it well. That's why the moment you left your previous hiding spot, you ran after your goal.

Any shack, abandoned building or cabin would be ideal. Well, your wish was granted. You hadn't been running for long before you saw a small wooden cabin in the distance. Your eyes lit up, excited smile forming on your face. There was still a hope.

Running to the door, you weren't even going to waste time knocking. You rush inside and close the door by leaning against it. You throw your head back, trying to calm your breathing, before opening your eyes again.

You were quite surprised. The furniture and everything in the cabin looked exceedingly good. As if someone lived here. You barely took two steps forward and were about to continue exploring, but you were stopped by sharp objects lightly touching your back. "Who are you and what do you want" a rough male voice made your breath stuck in your throat, goosebumps rose all over your body.

You started shaking and you knew if you won't speak asap, you are dead. But your ability to talk was quite interrupted by those really sharp objects pressing on your back. Yet you inhale deeply and tried to answer calmly.

"I need to hide from the FBI..." there was a moment of silence. "They want me" "Why?" You could still feel the knives touching your back, keeping you in a position where you couldn't do anything but answer. "They want my DNA..." again there was a silent pause until the man finally set you free, so you could finally turn around and see his face.

Your eyes widened. You didn't expect this. It was pretty tall man, at least 6 feet tall. You admired his beard and hair, which created a strange illusion of a wild animal. His hands were huge, not only his biceps but also his palms. When he sees your face, his eyes soften. He did not expect this either.

"Why they want your DNA?" he asked with confusion in his voice. Before you manage to say anything, you hear vehicles outside the cabin. Your instincts immediately got the better of you and claws came out of your knuckles in self-defense. Logan pulled back in surprise and looked at you with raised eyebrow.

He had so many questions but this wasn't the time to ask. He knew that. He smelled your fear and saw your terrified eyes, you've been through a lot. Besides, you didn't look like someone who wanted to hurt him. "Go, hide under the bed in that room" he pointed to one of the doors and you wasted no time.

You did as he told you so and waited, your pulse raising again. "Wait until I tell you" he whispered before he closed the door. No sooner had he closed it, than they aggressively knocked with the words "FBI open the door or we break in!”

Your mind was filled with million scenarios and they weren't in a positive light. What if they find you? What if you get caught and you never see day light again? What if they try more experiments on you until you suffer to death? What if they kill you as soon as they see you? These questions spawned in your head as you tried to control your breathing.

"Hello gentlemen, how can I help you?"

"Have you seen this girl?" you quietly listened to their conversation expectantly. "No, why is she missing or someth-" 

"That's none of your bussines sir, just answer honestly. Have you seen this girl running through here?" you heard rich laugh as you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. "Are you for real? I haven't seen a single soul in here for couple of years..." your breathing and heart raise was slowly going back to normal speed and rhythm. "Okay, let us check the cabin and we can leave" fuck. Just when you though you won…

“I told you I haven't seen her-" "We have the right to come in sir, now stand back or force will come" You could feel beads of sweat rolling down your forehead. You're done. You weren't ready for it but you had no choice. At least you tried. Hope dies last, how they say…

You quietly awaited your fate and listened to the slow stomping around the cabin. There were only a few seconds left before they will enter the room where you were hiding. "Sir I told you I haven't seen that girl!" that wolf-looking guy kept trying to save you and chase them away before they find you. It was pointless. Not only did they not listen to him, but they just accelerated the search.

There it is.

All that running, all that hiding and all that starving was for nothing. Everything led to only one result, which will now be fulfilled.

The hair on your arms stood on end when you heard a loud creaking of the door. You held your breath as you watched the massive black boots move eerily slowly around the room. Then you heard more faster footsteps, before seeing shoes. They were different, so you recognized that this was your salvation.

"I don't know what you're looking for in here. I've told you several times that I've never seen that girl!" you watched the shoes of both men with frightened eyes. There was a silence for a moment, before you heard the transmitter switch on. "All clear" a weight lift off your heart when you heard those words. You waited still, as you were told to do so.

“Alright, you can come out now” you literally jumped out from under the bed and were completely changed. The scared expression turned to excited and your eyes shone like never before. You felt incredible relief, but mostly you were grateful.

"Thank you so much!" he just nodded and checked you up and down before going somewhere else. You followed him, curious what will happen next.

"So now you're going to tell me why they want your DNA?" he raised his eyebrow as he poured rum into the glass. You watched him for a while, observing his large, big, massive hands until you caught yourself. You cleared your throat akwardly.

“I'm…a successful lab experiment” his face expression still didn't change, letting you know he wanted more. "I was born as a normal person, but these guys took me from my parents and used me as their lab rat. They tried to give me DNA from some mutant" he listened carefully, being very interested in your speech. "The chance of me dying was over 90%, but I survived even with mutant genes. They want to know how it's possible. That's why they want me"

You look down, remembering all the traumatic experiences from the lab. "I know what it's like" You look up at him. "I've been…lab rat too" he looked thoughtfully at his hand before sharp claws came out from his knuckles. You gasped quietly, before squeezing your eyes. "You are Wolverine!" you said in disbelief. He looks at you with furrowed brows. "Am I that famous?" you scoffed and shook your head. "They talked about you a lot in the lab. You were...their insiration"

"Well that isn't that something I should be proud of huh?" he chuckled, joking sarcastically but he had a point. You watched his claws. They were much bigger, sharper than yours. "Adamantium" he got your attention again, watching his claws. "Unbreakable metal. I have it instead of my bones" he slid them back in and looked at your face to finally see your reaction.

"Really? That must've hurt..." "Like hell" he agreed and took a sip. He held out the glass to you. It took you a moment to understand what he wanted. "Oh no thank you, I don't drink" you shake your hand and suck your lips into a thin line. "Good girl" he nodded and instead of placing the glass on the counter, he drank it to the bottom and only then put it down.

"But you also have…these don't you?" he asked you and you nodded. "Yeah but my bones are not made from that metal, only these" you also wanted to flex so you took your claws out. There were only two sharp ones on one hand, but they were enough.

"I see..." he poured another shot of rum into his glass and drank it immediately. You were starting to worry about his livers. "I'm Logan by the way" you smiled, introducing yourself too. He repeated your name to himself, smiling at the way those letters tickle his tongue.

"What about your family, where are they now?" your smile dropped immediately and you looked down again. “I don't know” you whispered darkly, hoping, praying that they are still alive. Logan realized that this was probably an inappropriate question and instantly began to act.

"Anyway, are you hungry?" he opened a fridge and looked around there. Of course you were hungry. You were starving. You couldn't remember the last time you had normal meat, vegetables or fruit. Practically any normal food.

You didn't want to sound annoying tho, but before you could say no, Logan was already taking spaghetti out of the fridge. “These are leftovers from yesterday…I can make more if you want” you wanted to refuse the offer, but the longer you watched and smelled the aromatic smell of meat and tomatoes, saliva started pooling in your mouth. Your stomach rumbled and that was a sign that you had to accept Logan's food.

"Here" he handed you a fork which you quickly grab and started eating like an animal. Logan was surprised, he watched you with raised eyebrows but later, he understood. He was glad he could help you. A warm grin began to form on his face so he quickly looked away and pretended to be busy with something, while he kept an eye on you and checking when you are finished. It wasn't even ten minutes and your plate was empty. Completely empty.

After you wiped your lips and calmed your beast inside you a bit, you thanked and gave Logan a grateful puppy eyes. He smiled a bit and nodded. "Do you want more?" you shake your head even though you wouldn't mind extra portion.

There was an awkward silence for a while. Neither of you knew what to talk about, however both of you were thinking the exact same thing. What will happen next? Will Logan let you stay here or will he kick you out? You were so desperately curious, but too scared to ask.

You decided to use reverse psychology. "I should get going" Logan jerked his head and frowned. "Have you lost your mind?" you look up at him, eyes big and sparkling. "You can't leave, definitely not now" and your trick worked. Your heart warmed when Logan let you stay. He was the first person in a long time to be kind to you. You valued him immensely.

The evening came. You were so tired and looking forward to wrapping yourself in the covers and falling asleep. Logan let you sleep in his bed while he slept on the couch. It must've been really uncomfortable, but he wanted to give you some space.

You evoked something in him that no one had been able to do for a long time. Compassion. You both have a pretty similar past and you've been through hard times, why should he be mean to you? Plus, you looked so innocent, so soft and beautiful. Oh you are beautiful.

The moment you turned around and your eyes met, it was as if time stood still. He felt his heart race, yet everything around him faded into silence. Your gaze held him captive, soft yet intense, as though you could see through every layer of him.

You seemed both familiar and mysterious, like a dream he wanted to keep reliving. And your eyes, there was something about them. So bright, yet with a hidden depth, as if they held secrets you weren't ready to share. Just looking into them left him breathless, his thoughts scattering with each heartbeat.

As he lay on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Of course, it was only natural that you’d occupy his thoughts; after all, you were a new event in his life. But this was different. He wasn’t just thinking about you in any ordinary way. His thoughts lingered on you in a way that maybe he shouldn’t have allowed.

There was a heat in his chest, a longing he couldn’t shake off. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have you near in a way that went beyond the boundaries of mere thoughts. The thought of you, of the way you made him feel, ignited something inside of him…a desire, a craving, that he wasn’t sure how to control.

You weren't much better of.

You could feel it, the connection between you, like an invisible thread tugging at your heart, pulling your thoughts to him. As you lay beneath the blankets, you couldn’t escape the images of him. His face, rugged and intense. His hair, wild and untamed, like the ears of a wolf, a perfect reflection of his untouchable, yet undeniable nature. You could almost smell the mix of rum and cigarettes that clung to him, that scent that was both comforting and dangerously alluring.

But it was his hands, those massive hands, that lingered in your mind the most. They were like a sign of safety, as if Logan could protect you from the world. Even now, surrounded by the softness of the sheets, you couldn’t escape the heat Logan left behind, the longing that burned inside you.

You couldn’t sleep. Your mind was too consumed with thoughts of Logan. Every time you closed your eyes, his face was there, vivid in your mind. His intense gaze, the roughness of his voice, the way he moved. It was as if he was everywhere, and you couldn’t escape him, no matter how hard you tried.

You tossed and turned, the sheets tangled around you, but no matter what, sleep didn’t come. It was like your body and mind were in conflict. You were exhausted, but the thought of him wouldn’t let you rest.

Finally, as the hours passed, your thoughts began to blur, the constant tug of his presence softening. Slowly, your breathing slowed, and the weight of the day caught up with you. The last thing you remember was the faintest image of him lingering in your mind before sleep finally claimed you.

You woke with a start, gasping for air, your body drenched in sweat. Your heart raced as the remnants of the nightmare clung to you like a heavy fog. You were back in the lab, the sterile, suffocating air, the cold metal table beneath you, the sharp sting of needles, the hum of machines monitoring your every heartbeat. The doctors—no, they weren’t doctors—had done this to you.

The pain… it was unbearable. You had screamed in your mind, desperate to escape, to survive. But it hadn’t been enough. The dream always ended the same way: your body convulsing, your breath leaving you, your heart stopping. You died there.

And then, as the darkness closed in, your eyes shot open. The scream tore from your throat before you could stop it, raw and terrified. Your body trembled, the terror from the nightmare still alive inside you.

A voice, low and familiar, cut through the panic. “Hey, hey… are you okay?” Logan’s voice, filled with concern, echoed in the quiet of the room. You blinked rapidly, your eyes focusing on him. You were safe. Your were alive. But your mind was still trapped in that place, that nightmare. The pain, the fear… it was all too real.

“Logan…” you breathed, your voice shaking, your body still trembling as his presence grounded you.His brows furrowed as he moved closer, his hand instinctively reaching for your.

He took both your small, trembling hands into his one, massive palm, covering them completely. Logan's rough thumb gently stroked across the back of your hand, the warmth and weight of his touch grounding you, bringing you back from the dark memories of the nightmare.

“Hey,” he murmured softly, his voice low and comforting. “You’re safe now. You’re okay.” He kept his voice calm, his thumb continuing to trace soothing circles as he waited for your breathing to even out. Slowly, you began to calm, your fingers loosening in his grip.

“I… I had a nightmare,” you whispered, barely able to meet his eyes, feeling the remnants of fear still lingering. Logan gave a slight nod, his gaze steady and understanding. “It’s okay. I get those too.” He didn’t press you, just held your hands in his, keeping his presence steady, like an anchor. He stayed there a few moments longer, not moving, until he was sure you were truly alright.

When he finally started to release her hands and stand, her fingers tightened around his. “Wait… would you… stay with me?” You asked, hope and despair could be heard in your throbbing voice.

He glanced at you for a moment, reading the vulnerability in your eyes, and gave a brief nod. “Sure,” he said softly, settling back down by your side. You felt a wave of relief wash over you, as his presence remained close. Gently, he kept your hands in his, his steady, quiet strength surrounding you, until you drifted off again, finally feeling safe.

The sun's rays shone directly into your eyes through the blinds, waking you up. You moved a bit and left a pleased quiet yawn from your lips. You realized you were lying on top of Logan's bare chest, his massive hand resting on your hip. The realization left you in shock for a small moment. After all, it felt comfortable.

The heat from his body warmed yours, his heartbeat was slow in rhythm and you enjoyed listening to it. It was a lovely melody that you wouldn't get tired of.

You slowly looked over at Logan, who was still sleeping. You couldn’t help but let your gaze linger a bit longer, taking in every detail. The way his profile softened under the light, the relaxed way he held himself, like he belonged nowhere else but right here, right now. Your heart began to race, almost as if you'd just realized something you hadn’t quite let yourself feel before.

There was a flutter deep inside you, a mix of nerves and excitement, tiny, electric sparks that seemed to move from her your to your stomach, filling it with a soft, almost dizzying warmth.

You'd heard people talk about “butterflies,” but until now, you hadn’t understood just how real they were. It was overwhelming but oddly comforting at the same time, like an emotion you'd always wanted to feel but never quite believed you would.

You could barely focus, all your senses drawn toward Logan, wondering if he’d notice how your cheeks were flushed, or if he could sense the way your pulse seemed to echo in your ears. In that moment, everything else faded, and it was just you. Just you, discovering that maybe, just maybe, you were falling for him.

Suddenly, Logan woke up. You quickly closed your eyes, pretending to be asleep. You wanted to avoid any awkward situation where he might realize you'd been watching him sleep. What kind of creep does that? He’d definitely think you were crazy, and you weren't about to risk that.

He took a deep breath and clumsily looked around. He seemed confused, but you understood why. After a long, deep sleep, it made sense. Once he finally got his bearings, remembering where he was or who he was, he realized the position the two of you were in. He quickly jerked his hand away from your hip. Part of him enjoyed it, but he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. That was the last thing he wanted.

He yawned loudly, and you took the opportunity to pretend you are waking up too. He looked at you and couldn’t help but smile. Even though it was morning, you still looked so stunning and majestic. You glanced at him and pretended that you had only just realized you were lying on him. Quickly, you pulled away and cleared your throat awkwardly. He chuckled under his breath and stretched his arms.

“Good morning,” he said in his rough morning voice, sending strange waves of pleasure down between your legs. Quietly and shyly, you murmured a good morning back and stretched your back.

“Did you sleep better?” he asked, sitting up so he could at least see half of your face. You nodded, looking at him with a grateful smile. He returned the smile, and when he felt his cheeks starting to warm, he decided to get out of bed. “I’ll go make breakfast,” he added before leaving the room.

You couldn’t shake the lingering scent of Logan, as you lay in bed for a few moments longer. The nightmare had already faded from your mind. You stepped out of the room and made your way to the kitchen, where Logan was at the stove, frying eggs and bacon in a skillet. He looked up at her, did a quick double-take, and smiled. Inside, though, you felt anything but fresh. You felt grimy, sweaty, and were sure your breath wasn’t at its best. “Mind if I use your shower?” You asked softly, your voice shy. Logan nodded and pointed down the hall.

Before you left the room, though, you naturally realized, that your clothes weren't clean either. Feeling a bit nervous, you asked Logan again, “Um, and could I maybe borrow some of your clothes?”

The question seemed to catch him off guard, but he couldn’t say no. “Yeah, I’ve got some shirts in the closet,” he replied, focusing intently on the bacon in the pan without looking at you.

You whispered a soft thank you and went to find something of his to wear. You found a red flannel shirt, and it smelled incredible. You couldn’t resist, taking a deep inhale of the scent was like breathing in Logan himself, a scent so intoxicating it felt like a drug.

Finally, you went to shower, freshen up, and take care of a little hygiene. You tossed your dirty clothes aside and slipped into Logan’s shirt. It hung loosely around you, the hem falling nearly to your thighs and the sleeves draping well past your hands. It felt oversized, almost like a protective blanket, wrapping you in his warmth. His scent, smoky, rugged, with a hint of rum, was woven into the fabric, surrounding you completely.

As you stepped out of the bathroom, the warm scent of breakfast led you toward the kitchen. Logan had just finished setting the plates, but when he looked up and saw you in his oversized flannel shirt, he froze.

It was clear it was his, unmistakably his, and seeing you in it stirred something fierce within him. He couldn’t stop his eyes from roaming over you, taking in how small you looked wrapped up in his clothes. But it wasn't just that, It was the way it clung to you in places, falling just so across your curves, that drove him wild. The collar hung slightly open, teasing him with glimpses of bare skin, and he found himself aching to close that distance, to run his hands along your waist and pull you close, inhaling that soft scent of yours now mingled with his own.

He swallowed hard, silently praying you couldn’t read his thoughts, because the things running through his mind right then were nowhere near decent. Trying to keep his composure, he gave you a lopsided smile. Get it together, he thought, but it was hopeless. All he could think about was how right it felt to see you in his shirt and how much he was craving for your lips right now.

When Logan finished his breakfast, he pushed back from the table and wiped his mouth. He looked ready to leave, grabbing his jacket and placing his hands on the table, looking resolute, like he planned something.

“Alright, I’m heading out for a hunt. Need to stock up for the week,” he said, his voice firm and unwavering.

You paused for a moment, then looked up at him. You weren’t sure if that was a good idea. After all, the FBI is still looking for you and who knows if they'll come to search the cabin again. This time Logan won't be there to protect you. But it wasn't just the FBI that worried you. You didn't want to be alone. You didn't want Logan to leave for god knows how long. You wanted to be with him.

“Y-you're going hunting?” you assured, trying to keep your tone as casual as possible. “Yeah,” he replied, already moving toward the door. “Won’t take long. Just need to get an early start.” You didn’t want him to go alone, and you definitely didn’t want to stay behind.

“Can I come with you?” you blurted out quickly to get his attention before he left. Logan slowly turned and looked at you blankly. “I don’t have anything else to do and… I’d like to help. Can you take me with you?”

Logan was surprised. His eyes softened a bit, but he still seemed unsure. He lowered his head slightly, his face unreadable, as he thought it over. You couldn’t tell if he was considering the idea or just trying to decide how to say no.

“This isn’t exactly a leisure trip, you know?” he said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “And it’s not exactly safe. This isn’t the kind of place for someone without experience.”

But there was something in your eyes that made him hesitate. Maybe it was the fear in your eyes for being alone, or maybe you really wanted to learn hunting… Whatever it was, he didn’t dismiss the idea immediately.

“I know it’s not going to be easy,” you replied, looking at him intently. “But I’d feel better going with you…safer.”

Logan looked at you carefully, his gaze softening a little, though his posture was still tense. “Are you sure you can handle it?” You could tell he wasn’t as convinced as he sounded, but your puppy eyes were the last straw for him.

“Alright, fine,” he said, finally relenting. His voice was still serious, but his lips quirked into something like a smile. “Just keep up and don’t slow me down.” You smiled widely, your heart racing a little faster as you stand up from the table, excited.

Logan suddenly raised both hands, holding them in front of him like a stop sign, his expression playful but firm. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said with a smirk, his eyes scanning you from head to toe. “Where exactly do you think you’re going in that outfit?”

His tone was teasing, but there was a flicker of seriousness and concern in his gaze. You look down at yourself and realize you were wearing just his shirt and panties. This is probably not a best suit for hunting.

You looked back at Logan apologetically and a little embarrassed. He shook his head amused and went to hand you some pants.

"I hope they fit...I wore them when I was 14" You both giggled and you put the pants on right in front of him. He watched you the whole time and when you were finally dressed formally, you went out.

You walked with Logan into the woods, your eyes darting cautiously to every shadow and rustling leaf. The thought of the FBI lurking around still haunted you, keeping you tense and alert with every step. But gradually, Logan’s mere presence started to ease your nerves, grounding you in a sense of safety. He didn’t need to say anything; just being near him seemed to calm your racing mind.

Then, a sudden snap of a branch echoed through the trees. Without thinking, you moved closer to Logan, pressing against him instinctively. Your heartbeat quickened, and your breath caught in your chest, certain that you were being watched. But Logan, calm and unbothered, scanned the trees and then nodded toward the source of the sound.

“It’s just a squirrel,” he murmured with a small, amused smile.

You exhaled, your shoulders relaxing as you glanced up at him, feeling a little silly but reassured.

You and Logan kept moving deeper into the woods, his steady pace reassuring even as you couldn’t quite shake the edge of tension from earlier. After a while, Logan spotted a deer grazing in the distance. He motioned for you to be quiet, and the two of you slowly crept toward it.

You both took cover behind a bush, and you watched as Logan readied himself to take aim. But something in you hesitated, you couldn’t help but feel for the gentle creature standing unaware, and a wave of reluctance washed over you. Turning to him, you whispered, trying to convince him, “It’s just a helpless animal…”

Logan’s jaw tightened, a hint of irritation crossing his face. But after a moment, his expression softened as he looked at you, and he let out a quiet sigh. Though a bit begrudgingly, he lowered his weapon.

“Fine,” he muttered, barely concealing a small smirk. Together, you moved on to search for something smaller, Logan leading the way with a slight shake of his head, as if both amused and exasperated.

After walking a little further, you both spotted a wild boar rummaging around the forest floor. Though the idea still tugged painfully at you, you managed to steel yourself, accepting that Logan would take this one down. Once again, you crouched behind cover, careful to stay hidden from the boar’s sight.

Logan took aim and fired, the shot ringing out sharply in the quiet of the woods. You flinched slightly, a quick jolt of surprise, but it wasn’t as bad as you expected. With just one shot, Logan brought the boar down, his skill evident in that single, precise hit. “Come on” he clicked his head towards the animal and you slowly followed him.

When you reached the fallen animal, a wave of sadness stirred in you, seeing it lying there. Logan noticed your expression, and without a word, he stepped closer to you, his gaze softening.

He placed a warm, steady hand on your shoulder, grounding you. “Hey,” he murmured gently, his voice low and calm. “It’s alright. I know this feels…heavy.” His hand moved in a slow, reassuring circle, and you could feel the tension in your body start to melt just a little.

“Hunting isn’t easy, but sometimes it’s necessary. Out here, it’s survival.”

You looked up at him, catching the quiet sympathy in his eyes. The faint lines at the corners of his eyes softened as he gave you a small smile. “We use what we take,” he added, as if sensing you needed something more to ease your mind. “Nothing goes to waste.”

His thumb brushed your shoulder with an unexpected tenderness, and the weight on your chest began to lift. You nodded, still feeling a little heavy-hearted but reassured by his words. “Thank you,” you whispered, feeling his warmth seeping through you.

Logan gave your shoulder one last squeeze, lingering just a moment before he released you. “Come on,” he said, his tone back to its usual steady resolve. “We’ll take care of him. I’ll show you how.”

He began to prepare the boar, his movements efficient but respectful, and you felt grateful that he understood the balance between survival and compassion.

Logan already carried two boars effortlessly over his shoulders, his strength nothing short of superhuman. Watching him handle such weight so casually stirred a flicker of admiration and something else, a heated thrill you couldn’t quite ignore.

When he looked over with a faint smirk, you felt warmth rise to your cheeks and quickly glanced away, flustered. Logan caught the gesture, and a low chuckle escaped him.

Then, without warning, he pressed a firm hand against your chest, stopping you in your tracks. His gaze turned serious, and he tilted his head toward the trees up ahead. “See that?” he whispered, nodding toward another boar just in the distance.

You nodded, heart thumping a little faster. Together, you crept forward, crouching low as you hid yourselves behind a bush. Logan carefully lowered the animals he was carrying to the ground and pulled out his rifle, eyes focused on the target. For a few seconds, he lined up his shot, but then he turned his gaze toward you, a determined glint in his eye.

“If you’re going to survive out here, you’re going to have to learn how to handle this,” he murmured, holding the rifle out to you. With a nod, he motioned for you to move in closer.

For a moment, you hesitated, but the intensity in Logan’s eyes drew you in. You stepped closer, until you were pressed against him, his sturdy form shielding you from behind. The closeness felt reassuring, comforting even, yet you struggled to focus on anything other than the way his body molded perfectly against yours.

Slowly, you reached out for the rifle, feeling its unexpected weight. Sensing your effort, Logan wrapped his hands around yours, helping you hold it steady. You both gripped it together, his strong hands guiding yours.

The warmth of Logan’s chest pressed against your back sent shivers down your spine, awakening a flood of excitement that you couldn’t control. His strong arms surrounded you, hands wrapped firmly around yours on the rifle, steady and commanding. Each breath he took brushed softly against your neck, and you found yourself unable to think of anything but his presence. Solid, protective, and impossibly close.

His touch was rough but careful, and the way his fingers enveloped yours made your pulse race. You couldn’t ignore the way his grip felt, strong and possessive, sending waves of thrill and desire through you.

He covered you like a protective barrier, making you feel safe enough to face anything.

“All right,” he murmured in a voice that was dark, smooth, almost too tempting. “Now, aim at him.” His breath brushed your ear, making it even harder to concentrate. Your fingers touched his where they rested over yours, sending sparks down your spine. But you tried your best to focus, steadying your gaze on the boar ahead.

“That’s it,” he encouraged softly, his voice a low rumble that made you take a deep breath, willing yourself to keep your aim.

Your hands were shaking a bit, but Logan’s massive hands kept the rifle steady, guiding it in perfect alignment. “Shoot,” he commanded, and for a moment, you hesitated, unsure of yourself. But then, with a gentle push from him, you squeezed the trigger, and the shot rang out. The impact sent a jolt through you, and you stumbled slightly backward into Logan’s chest. He chuckled softly, glancing down at you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and reassuring. You nodded quickly, eyes already moving to the wild boar lying motionless on the ground.

“You did it. Good job,” he praised, and the words sent another wave of satisfaction rushing through you, a pleasant heat spreading between your thighs.

Logan then stood, offering his hand to help you up, and you both walked over to inspect the boar. You felt terrible, a heavy weight pressing on your chest as you stared at the lifeless body of the wild boar, the one you had just killed. The realization hit you like a punch to the gut, and a wave of guilt washed over you. But Logan didn’t seem bothered by it at all.

Without hesitation, he hoisted the dead boar over his shoulders, along with the two others, and started walking back toward the cabin with you.

Before getting in the truck, he tossed the animals into the back with ease, as though it was nothing. Then he climbed into the driver’s seat, leaving you standing outside, unsure of what to do next.

“Hop in!” Logan called out with a grin, and you quickly obeyed, climbing into the truck. “We’re going to the store. I’ll need something,” he said, and with a turn of the key, the engine roared to life.

As soon as you stepped into the store, everything felt new. You had never been inside a store before, and it amazed you. Shelves upon shelves filled with things you’d never seen, snacks, drinks, and foods that were completely unfamiliar to you. Logan had told you to stay close to him, but the overwhelming curiosity got the best of you. You couldn’t help but wander around, eyeing all the delicious treats you had no idea existed.

Suddenly, three men approached you. “Hey cutie” one of the slimy guys called out making you turn around. You raised your eyebrows innocently and incomprehension as you watched them approach you. They kept whispering something to each other and laughing, in a very creepy way.

"Damn you're a snack!" "Nice curves you've got there!" they said and kept getting closer. You backed up until you hit a shelf, not allowed to move away from them anymore. "What's a hot chick like you doing in a place like this?" the tallest guy with a beard, that smelled like rotten fish, reached out and tried to touch your arm. You flinched, trying to step away, but they only followed.

You took another step back, hoping to escape their grip, but it was no use. Another hand reached out to brush against your waist, sending a shiver of discomfort down your spine. “Yeah, come on sweetheart, don’t be shy. Let us show you a good time.”

Your heart raced, fear bubbling inside, but before you could react, you heard a familiar, low voice. “I think she’s good, boys”

He was standing there now, his arms crossed, his presence like a wall of muscle, dark eyes locked on the men. His voice was calm but deadly serious.

“And who the hell are you? You some kinda hero?”

Logan stepped closer, his gaze never leaving them. “No, I’m not. But I’ll make sure you wish you were never born if you keep this up.”

The men hesitated, clearly weighing their options. Logan’s stance and cold, threatening tone made them think twice. He reached out, grabbing one by the collar and pulling him a few inches off the ground.

“You’d better walk away. Now.” The men quickly realized they were outmatched, and with a few muttered curses, they backed off, turning and walking away in defeat. Logan kept his eyes on them, waiting until they were completely gone before letting the tension in his body ease.

He turned to you, his expression softening just slightly, though still protective. “You good?” You nodded, feeling a wave of relief wash over you, though your heart was still racing. Logan’s presence had been a shield, and you couldn’t help but feel safe again.

You quietly thanked him, and Logan simply nodded. He didn’t hesitate any longer, unwilling to risk more men getting too close to you. Gently, he grabbed your waist and pulled you to his side, holding you there. You didn’t protest.

Logan’s usual cool demeanor had a hint of something else now, something possessive, as his hand rested firmly on your side. He wasn’t just guarding you, he was claiming you in a way. His thoughts were elsewhere, likely simmering with anger over what had just happened. Though he’d tried to handle things calmly with words, the desire to protect you at all costs was stronger than ever.

He might’ve been trying to be civil, but if anyone tried something again, there would be no hesitation. Logan would’ve torn them apart in seconds if you weren’t around. He had a certain control over himself, but it was clear, he didn’t like anyone stepping too close to what was his.

You came to the register, Logan paid and you left. You didn't exchange a word until then. "What would you like for dinner?" he asked, turning the subject away. He didn't want to discuss the uncomfortable situation further and make you feel uneasy. Talking about food seemed like a better topic to him.

“I don't know” Logan left you from his grip, when you were already at the car. You got inside, where Logan placed the grocery bag in the back seat, before starting the car. "We'll figure something out"

It was evening when you were finally back at the cabin, and Logan was in the kitchen, preparing dinner. The scent of fresh ingredients filled the air, mixing with the smoky, earthy aroma of the forest outside. He was focused, moving with the kind of purpose you admired. You sat on the couch, leaning back into the cushions, watching him from where you were. You were wearing a new shirt, his shirt, of course, but nothing else but your underwear.

As your eyes traced the muscles in his arms, the way his body moved as he chopped and stirred, you felt yourself growing more and more captivated by him. The warmth from the kitchen contrasted with the cool air in the room, but it only added to the heat that built inside you, a feeling that had nothing to do with temperature.

You wanted to help, of course, but when you offered, Logan shook his head. “You should rest,” he said softly, glancing over his shoulder at you, a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. “I’ve got this.”

With a small, reluctant sigh, you sank back further into the couch, feeling the warmth of the room settle around you. Logan finished preparing the meal, but instead of rushing to serve, he made you a cup of warm tea. The steam rose up, delicate and soothing. He handed it to you with a soft smile, the heat of the cup spilling into your hands, grounding you in the moment.

You wrapped your fingers around the warm ceramic, grateful for the comfort he offered, both physically and emotionally. The tenderness, the care he took in everything he did for you, it made you feel both vulnerable and cherished.

Logan leaned against the counter, watching you with those intense eyes of his, the same gaze that had been on you since the moment you met. It was as though you were the only thing that mattered in that moment. And you couldn’t deny the way it made your heart race.

Logan finished preparing the meal, a hearty dish of seared steaks, roasted vegetables, and mashed potatoes, the savory smells filling the cabin and making your stomach growl with anticipation. He set the plates down on the coffee table in front of the couch where you were sitting, making sure everything was just right. You couldn’t help but smile, taking in the scene. The warm glow of the lights in the cabin made it feel cozy and intimate, a stark contrast to the chaos of your past.

You both settled onto the couch, Logan taking a seat beside you. The food was delicious, and even though the conversation wasn’t centered around anything important, it felt grounding. Logan had a way of making even the smallest details sound interesting. His deep voice, full of humor, washed over you as he shared stories of his time on the road, a mix of ridiculous adventures and near-disasters.

Logan’s laughter was like music, deep and genuine. He didn’t laugh often, but when he did, it was as if the weight of the world had been lifted from him, even if only for a moment. You couldn’t help but laugh along, his energy infectious, his smile that much brighter when he caught your eye.

As you both continued eating, you realized how easy it was to be with him. There was no need to act or pretend, no awkward silences or forced small talk. For the first time in what felt like forever, you were completely at ease. The sound of Logan’s voice, the warmth of the food, the softness of the couch beneath you, it all felt like home.

You didn’t even notice how much time had passed, how the world outside the cabin had ceased to exist in that moment. For the first time in years, you felt truly happy.

Logan’s eyes caught yours, a small smile on his lips. “What?” he asked, noticing your gaze. You shook your head, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. “Nothing, just… this feels nice,” you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Logan raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Nice, huh? You sure know how to flatter a guy.” You laughed, feeling a warmth spread through you, but it wasn’t just from the food. It was from being here, with him. Safe. Comfortable. Content.

“I mean it,” you said, your voice softer now. “For the first time in a long time, I feel like… I don’t have to worry about anything.”

Logan paused, his fork hovering in the air for a second before he set it down on his plate. His gaze softened, just for a moment, before he looked away. “I get that,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Things don’t have to be complicated, not when you’re with the right people.”

You felt your heart skip a beat at his words, his sincerity making you feel something deep within. You wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that for once, you could just be happy. That you didn’t need to keep fighting.

He looked back at you, his expression now more serious. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said, his voice low, yet filled with an honesty that hit you in a way you hadn’t expected.

Your chest tightened with emotion, and you nodded, trying to mask how much those words meant. It was strange, how something so simple could affect you so much. But then again, everything with Logan felt different, more real.

The night wore on, and the two of you shared stories, laughed, and ate. The weight of the world didn’t seem as heavy as it had just hours ago. You were no longer thinking about the FBI or what had brought you here. You were only thinking about the present, about Logan.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Logan’s voice was casual, but there was something in it that caught your attention. You nodded, waiting for him to continue. He took a final bite of his food, chewing slowly before setting his plate down with a soft clink.

“Have you ever been with anyone?” The question hung in the air, unexpected and direct. It startled you, leaving you unsure of how to respond. Your mind raced, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to answer. Logan, sensing the hesitation, quickly shifted his tone, as if trying to soften the impact. But you still found yourself replying simply, “No. I never really had the chance.”

He seemed to understand, nodding thoughtfully. “If you had the chance, though, I bet you’d have no trouble at all.”

You laughed nervously and shook your head in disbelief. “No way… I don’t think so.”

Logan’s expression softened as he leaned slightly forward, his eyes never leaving yours. There was a seriousness in his voice when he spoke again, but a warmth too. “Yes way, I mean look at you. You’re beautiful, not just on the outside, but in everything you are. The way you carry yourself, your strength, the way you laugh, it all draws people in. You have this… presence. I can’t imagine anyone not wanting to be close to you.”

The sincerity in his words made your breath catch. It was as though every insecurity you’d hidden deep inside was being slowly unraveled, laid bare in the best possible way. His words, simple but heartfelt, wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, making you feel seen in a way you hadn’t in a long time.

Logan kept speaking, his words filling the space between you. “I’ve never met anyone like you.” His voice was deep, full of admiration, and you could feel how much he meant it. “You’ve got this amazing energy, this fire. I don’t know how you do it.”

But despite his compliments, something inside you was aching to stop him, to silence all those words. You wanted him in a way you couldn’t explain, something fierce that pulsed through your veins. You couldn’t hold back any longer. You leaned in, your breath catching as you pressed your lips gently against his.

Logan was surprised at first, barely reacting, his lips soft under yours. He wasn’t expecting this, and neither were you, but the spark that ignited between you two was undeniable.

Before you could even think, Logan’s hands found their way to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. His lips parted, deepening the kiss. This time, there was no hesitation. His kiss was hungry, passionate, like he couldn’t get enough of you. You felt his fingers move, cupping your face gently, as though he was afraid of breaking something precious between you. But you weren’t fragile. You weren’t scared.

You responded, matching his intensity, the heat between you two overwhelming, leaving you both breathless.

You put your plate down on the table as Logan's weight weighed you down, so you were underneath him. He didn't want to rush into anything, but at the same time, he couldn't keep that desire inside him for long.

He was kissing you hungrily and you kissed him back, your fingers found a place between his soft hair, which you pulled and messed up. His knee, without his intention, slowly rubbed against your panties. He created the pressure that you wanted for a long time. Your core was pulsating, greedily, desperately wanting something to drive away that annoying lust.

Your lips leaving a soft moans between the kisses, making Logan's pants tighter. Your sweet sound made it hard for Logan to be patient with you. His hands were slowly moving down, gently exploring your body. Every touch of his filled you with doses of adrenaline. Your hips were carefully rocking against Logan's knee as a natural instinct. He scoffed and stopped kissing you to take a look at you.

"Someone's eager huh?" His voice sounded mocking but at the same time, irritated you much more than his leg against your core. You wanted him. You needed him. Lust like you've never experienced before. It was stronger than hunger or thirst, it was much more intense.

You had no idea what was happening to you but you knew you needed Logan. Much, much closer. He didn't need to read minds to see how frantically you needed this.

He lunged at your lips again, much more wildly. One of his hands traveled quite quickly to your legs. When he reached your thighs, he massaged you for a while there. Oh god he needed it as badly as you did.

He couldn't remember the last time he had good sex. It's been a while since he's been living alone in this cabin with only the animals around. Of course, when he got the hang of it, he masturbated, but over time he got tired of it. But the moment you appeared in his sight, you reawakened in him the flame of passion and especially erection, which he was still trying to hide and suppress whenever you were near him.

But now was the time when you both could finally indulge. To relax, achieve pleasure and share the most intimate moment with the person who saved you.

Logan's hand smoothly moved from your thigh to your inner thigh, way too close to the point you wanted him the most. You tried to move your hips so that he would finally touch you. He chuckled softly, noticing your movements. “Easy there”

His middle finger started gently brushing you through your panties. Your eyes widened, as you felt a tickle warm feeling in your lower stomach. You couldn't describe what exactly you felt but it was breathtaking. You couldn't get enough of it.

Logan was careful, gentle and obedient, but you kept implying that you wanted the exact opposite. You wanted more, more pressure, more fingers, but most of all you wanted him to finally take off your panties. You bit your lower lip, trying to be quiet as the soft groans of desperation started leaving your throat, without even realizing it.

"Come on princess, let me hear you" Logan put more pressure into his finger, making you close your eyes and drop your jaw. You couldn't control your voice anymore and that was exactly what Logan wanted. Hearing your moaning and seeing your eyebrows twitching in pleasure, made his dick even harder.

He wanted to feel you, he wanted to taste you, that's why he grabbed your panties made of soft fabric and pulled them off you in one swipe. You gasped a bit as the cold fresh air touched your bare core, wet and pulsating.

When Logan saw your pussy, his breath caught in his chest. You were beautiful. The transparent glistening liquid on your labia was driving him crazy. It looked like the most delicious meat he would ever taste and he decided to not waste any more time, even though he would love to look at you even longer.

He got on his knees on the couch, lowering himself so that his head was right between your thighs. You lowered your head, heavy breathing and heart beating like never before. This image will be etched in your memory forever. His devilish smile and flirtatious wink was the last time you saw, before you started seeing stars.

He buried his face into your cunt, his nose teasing your clit while his tongue was swirling around your surface. He licked off all your wetness while you had to catch on to something. You grab his already disheveled hair, pulling and tugging him.

Your strokes, which Logan barely felt, made him growl against you, sending pleasent vibration right into your core. "Logan" you gasped as his tongue finally penetrated you. He was stretching you and surprisingly, it didn't hurt at all. You were so horny that his penetration was smooth without any problems.

You bit your lips again, creating a bloody mess there, but you could care less. You kept moving your hips awkwardly as Logan created a volcano of emotions inside you. His tongue touched your walls, twirling around and tasting every drop of your juice. On top of that, his nose didn't stop at deliberately provoking your sensitive clit, sending you closer and closer to orgasm.

Logan kept his eyes on you. He watched as your nostrils flared, your brows furrowed, and your muscles tensed beyond belief trying to hold on. You could feel his cocky smile, as your walls started to tighten around his tongue. He knew you were close. “You taste so good”

Your grunt grew louder with every flick of Logan's tongue, your hips moving against his face, before you felt a pressing sensation in your lower abdomen. Goosebumps covered your entire body and a chill ran down your spine, before it happened. Your jaw fall open, your eyes tight close and you shouted over the entire cottage, that even the birds outside flew away.

You squirm all over Logan's face. The feeling of release washed over you until you fell from the height and struggled to catch your breath. Logan licked you, he was very dusty and didn't want to leave even a drop of your cum. The overstimulation started heating up your core.

Logan moved away from your crotch, sitting on his ankles and watching you for a moment. Even though you were drained, you still looked stunning. You opened your eyes when you felt huge warm hands on your cheeks. "That's my girl" you chuckled, your eyelids felt heavy but you couldn't stop looking at Logan's face. He still had the rest of your squirm on his chin and nose, glistening through the rays of cozy light around the room.

"Are you ready?" your heart skipped a beat at his question, but his messy hair with face like an angel made you nod your head. Logan smiled with a huff, kissing you harshly. His hands weren't as careful as before, he was reaching all over you and didn't hesitate to touch you under your, actually his, shirt at all.

You cooperated with his passionate kissing, both of you sighing. Suddenly you felt something poking you which started to annoy you. You pulled away from Logan's lips and looked down to see his huge erection still trapped in his pants. Your eyes widened and your core started pulsating again. Logan noticed your staring and couldn't help but chuckle.

“What are you lookin' at?” you quickly look back into his eyes, embarrassed. As a result, you started to blush and had to suck your lips into a thin line. God Logan adored you.

"Don't worry sweetie" he leans, brushing his lips against your ear as his hot breath warmed your skin. “You'll get it” with those words, he covered your face in soft kisses. You were enjoying it until you heard belt unfastening and a zipper. You knew it was coming and you couldn't wait. You were so heated up and that Logan's cock could cool you down.

You felt the excitement spread throughout your body, as Logan's pants fell onto the floor. You already felt something hard tickling you in your inner thigh. You were impatient. You let out an eager purr, indicating that you absolutely needed to have Logan inside you. He sense your hints and the uncontrollable movements of your hips, fervently trying to get some friction.

Logan look at you, eyes dark with lust, before he presses his lips against yours and at that exact same time, he slowly thrust into you. You squeak, eyes widened as he stretched your walls extremely wide. You were wrapped around him, so fucking tight. His precum mixed with the remaining juices inside you, creating a useful natural lubricant.

"Fuck" he dropped his forehead against yours, his hot breathing in shallow, uneven gasps as he continued his way to get fully inside you. You were quietly whimpering, eyes closed but you felt amazing. Logan's presence so close to you finally got rid of that aggravating aching between your legs.

“Hold onto me baby,” Logan kept comforting you and whispering sweet things that made your heart beat faster. “Just like that” his voice low and hard, ruspy in a way that tickled your eardrums. You automatically wrapped your legs around Logan's waist when he was inside to the base. You felt so full, but that it still wasn't enough. You begged for more.

Logan, like a true gentleman, let you get used to him and catch a breath a little, before he started the rodeo. He moved his pan with incredibly gentle movements. His tip touching and provoking your cervix and places you didn't even know could be reached.

Your mouth opened automatically as you were sighing, your voice pitch and strong. "You like that?" Logan was looking at you and even though you couldn't see him, you instinctively suspected that he was watching you. You didn't mind. You didn't mind at all. You nodded carelessly and threw your head back as Logan started to pick up the pace.

Exactly what you needed and wanted. It's like he's reading your mind. As if he knew your body perfectly and knew exactly what you want, what you desire, what you need.

He took both of your hands and held them tightly as he placed them above your head. Again, you didn't mind. Your only focus was his cock in your vagina. How wonderful he feels. How his massive cock touches every sensitive spot inside you, slowly but surely bringing you to climax.

“Look at you,” he said with a smile as he fought himself not to empty himself into you yet. You're making it really hard for him though. "Such a...." he dropped his head as his dick started twitching, his thrusts gained strength and intensity. "Such a good girl”

He felt it. You felt it too. You stopped perceiving your surroundings, your ears started ringing and the rumbling in your stomach burned. Logan, on the other hand, felt he wouldn't last much longer.

He quickly unbuttoned your shirt, the buttons flew around but it was a blast for both of you. Your breasts bounced to the rhythm of Logan's thrusting, which started being unbearable. He lost control of his pelvis and movements in order to catch up with his orgasm. He got on his knees, freeing your hands but held your hips firmly, while keep pounding into you without mercy.

"You feel s-so good" he groaned his eyes tightly shut as he felt his orgasm being implausibly close. Your legs started shaking, vibrating. You stopped feeling your toes and that's when you felt it. You arch your back, jaw wide open while you moaned really, really loudly.

Your walls tightened around Logan's length, but he didn't stop. All of your muscles stiffened until in one moment, they suddenly relaxed and you let out a soft sigh of relief. Logan chuckled when you cum all over his dick and decided not to wait for his moment anymore. Few more hard thrust, before he pulled out and sprayed your belly with his seed.

His moan was really intense and turned you on again, plus the realization that he made this sound just because of you, your heart was melting.

After that he collapsed on you but carefully, not to smash your tiny body. His forehead was leaning against yours, both of you breathing heavily while giggling. "That was...awesome" Logan sighed, making you laugh and blush. It was that good, that you couldn't even talk. But Logan made sure that there was no awkward silence.

"You were quite loud, princess,” your cheeks started to blush but you didn't break eye contact with Logan, even with such close proximity. “Always so quiet and mysterious… but in bed? You’re not afraid of that, are you?” you were terribly shy, but in a good way. You didn't know you could make such sounds yourself.

He grinned, seeing you all red and sweaty was a moment of comfort for him. He didn't want to admit it, but he felt butterflies in his stomach and they just wouldn't go away since he saw you.

"Come on, let's get you clean up" Logan grunted as he stood up and didn't ask you, just grabbed you and carried you into the bathroom like a princess. You didn't complain, you swung your legs and rested your head on his chest, feeling indescribably good with him.

A few years had passed, and the life you and Logan had built together only grew deeper and richer with time. You’d both settled into a quiet, natural rhythm, a blend of strength and softness, of trust and a fierce loyalty that had grown from countless shared moments, both big and small. Logan, once guarded and wary, had opened up to you in ways neither of you expected, revealing a side that was as protective and tender as it was wild. And you, too, had found a quiet courage within yourself, rooted in him and in the life you shared. Your bond felt like something timeless and unbreakable, a connection that had only strengthened as the years drifted by, like roots that had grown deep and steady in the rich earth of your love.

Logan stood outside the cabin, dressed only in a pair of worn, dark-gray sweatpants that clung to his muscular frame. His gaze stretched out over the rugged landscape, eyes fixed on the rolling hills and dense trees, but his thoughts were somewhere far beyond the scenery. The dawn air was cool, mist rising in thin wisps over the ground, and Logan breathed it in slowly, grounding himself in the calm solitude of nature. His rugged face was softened in the morning light, deep in thought, a rare vulnerability showing in his expression as he seemed to wrestle with something private, something known only to him.

Then, as if sensing him, you stepped quietly onto the porch, carrying a small, bundled form against your chest. You approached him with a warmth and excitement that seemed to break through his solitude. The tiny child in your arms cooed softly, and Logan, feeling your presence before even hearing a sound, turned around. His face lit up with an expression that was a blend of pride, awe, and something deeper, something fierce and protective.

With a gentle smile, you cradled his newborn closer, offering the child toward him. Logan’s face softened, and he reached out, his large, roughened hand brushing over the child’s head with an almost reverent touch.

“She really do have your nose,” he murmured, a smirk breaking across his face as he looked up at you.

You laughed softly, stepping close to wrap your arm around his waist. Logan pulled you in, his warmth settling around you both. Together, you looked out over the vast expanse of trees and sky stretching endlessly before you, wrapped in the serenity of the moment.

“Can you believe this?” you whispered, resting your head on his shoulder.

Logan’s voice was low but sure. “Wouldn’t trade it for anything.” He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, his rough hand squeezing your shoulder gently.

The life you shared with him in that moment, under the quiet sky, was both humbling and thrilling, an unexpected future he never dared to hope for but now couldn’t imagine living without.

[over-and-over-and-over-and]

"but right now YOU'RE MINE." || yandere ! shauna x reader

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🔪 you're framed and punished for a crime you didn't commit. shauna decides she's best suited to be your punisher.

🩻 MDNI : eventual smut - transfem shauna receiving head except it kinda turns into face fucking because shauna is literally insane i swear i didn't mean for that to happen she just kinda did that

🥩 tw blood mention, [attempted] murder mention, toxic/possessive behavior, intentional injury causing + purposefully prodding wounds, yellowjackets typical shenanigans

♠️ pre-winter, no frog scientists, lowkey ooc [kill me], i wrote this fully forgetting shauna canonically is a pretty piss poor liar so just pretend that isnt the case i guess

my first time writing actual smut [i feel like the nsfw abc doesnt rly count] so i'm open to criticism it actually helps lmao

🎵 song: rule 34, fish in a birdcage

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

"p-please i would never! i swear!!"

as much as you pleaded and groveled, nothing changed. you had sobbed and pleaded your innocence for what felt like hours, and not a soul was convinced- perhaps a few people were swayed or at the very least felt bad for you, but the mob mentality kept them in line as the general conclusion was that you were lying through your teeth.

for the most part, you were shit outta luck.

the evidence was stacked against you- which was ridicoulous considering you were genuinely innocent. most of it you didn't understand and couldn't come up with a reasonable excuse beyond-

"i must've been framed, i'm serious! guys you've gotta believe me i-"

"tch- of course you would say something like that." melissa scoffs, cutting you off. it seems she mostly meant to keep the comment to herself, but she made harsh eye contact with you while the words fell from her lips so you suppose she didn't mind the fact that you overheard her.

as much as you wanted to snap back and defend yourself, you knew it would only make things worse- melissa had been the one who had accused you in the first place, presenting completely damning (yet completely impossible) evidence

it's not like you could do anything anyways. innocent or not, the girls had already decided you were beyond guilty. either way, you were absolutely fucked.

you had been evicted from your hut and rehoused in the animal pen until the girls could figure out what to do with you. they had only tied up your hands, and even then they were tied together and not actually tied to anything in the pen... it would be catastrophically easy to run off. you considered it, but you didn't move a muscle.

you knew better than that.

instead you decided to stargaze with the animals, figuring it made a much better pass time than contemplating your fate.

you are quite glad you decided against running off when moments later you hear the gate open and shut, approaching footsteps following soon after. for whatever reason you didn't turn over to see who it was, opting to completely ignore them.

one of those situations where you hoped your problems would vanish if you pretended they weren't there.

they didn't.

instead whoever it was deliberately kicked you in the shoulder to get your attention. slowly you turned to see who it was, shauna's big brown eyes staring back at you.

her expression almost looked bored, as if she had a thousand better things to do, but her hands were balled into tight fists by her sides giving off a different impression of how she felt about you.

oh great.

"get on your feet."

you listen to her instructions completely, jumping to your feet at her command. despite the instinctive obedience, you can't help the inevitable question-

"where are we going?"

"just do what i say."

worth a shot.

shauna parades you through the village, which is weirdly quiet. you're used to the bustle of everyone running around paired with the excited fireside chatter, none of which was currently present. everyone must've been asleep already, which was weird because you could've sworn it was still early. you must've lost track of time while stargazing, but even then that seemed like a stretch.

you walk past each currently occupied hut, but before you can walk past shauna's she grabs the back of your collar, yanking you back. briefly you gag and take a moment to collect yourself from the surprise, all the while shauna is pushing you past the makeshift blanket door. once inside, you're given all of five milliseconds to glance around before shauna shoves you ass first into the dirt.

"what the fuck are you doing-"

"you should be grateful you're not dead."

this comment threw you off. you took a moment to process the implications before glancing back at shauna, "i was supposed to be executed?"

"you were supposed to be exiled with nothing but the clothes on your back," shauna rolls her eyes as if this conversation is painstakingly redundant, "which, out here, is pretty much the same as an execution."

"exiled? why?"

"because you're 'dangerous' and 'unpredictable', according to the court." shauna says the words with air quotes as if she doesn't quite believe it either- once upon a time you were the shy new kid on the team, and now you were being painted as being chaotic and cruel- no matter how you twisted it, the narrative just didn't quite make sense.

you cock an eyebrow, "i'm dangerous and unpredictable, but you're not?"

shauna deadpans, clearly unamused, "i didn't try to axe murder someone in cold blood."

"neither did i!" you exclaim, "the axe is kept on the other side of the village, completely opposite to my hut. i would've had almost zero chance of grabbing it, much less attempt to murder someone!"

shauna crouches down, kneeling to be eye level with you, and yet she once again rolls her eyes. by now you should know arguing with her of all people is not only pointless but also a bit of a death wish- considering your current situation, you could care less.

"someone would've woken up, don't you think? robin is a very light sleeper and she's housed right next to it! you should be interrogating her, not death sentencing me!"

"your clothes were found hidden and covered in blood, not hers."

"anyone could've taken my stuff from the laundry. your case has way too many holes in it, you and i both know tha-"

you're cut off by shauna's hands flying up to meet your throat.

"argue as much as you like but the decision is final." she emphasized her words by squeezing her hands around your neck, earning a desperate squeak as your hands rushed to meet hers, soon confronted by the fact that they were still tied. you couldn't do much aside from choke and squirm, causing a fascinated shark-like grin to slowly spread across shauna's face as she watched you struggle. there was a sparkle in shauna's eyes at the sight of your misery. as her eyes lit up, yours began to dim.

shauna tilts her head to the side, still carefully observing you all the while damn near killing you herself.

"are you gonna behave?"

to the best of your ability, you nodded.

her hands drew back and you began gasping for air, physically rolling over in a desperate attempt at regaining your bearings.

slowly you sit up again, cautiously looking her in the eyes, "do the others know about this?"

from the way the corner of her mouth twitches, you figure shauna is calculating an answer which you patiently wait for her to give, but she doesn't. the both of you sit in a brief awkward silence as shauna decides your question wasn't worth so much as acknowledging.

"do they?"

you try again, despite the way it didn't seem like you'd be getting a straight answer.

shauna opts instead to shift the conversation entirely. she grabs your hand (both unintentionally, due to the rope secured tightly around your wrists, although she focuses her attention to only one- your left hand-) pointing out a small scratch running across your forearm.

"what happened here?"

you sighed as you recalled the incident- post trial in your infinite genius you did the only thing you could think of in order to save your skin,

you ran.

you ran from a fucking soccer team.

your mad dash was unsurprisingly short lived but ended in a bit of a scuffle which resulted in a number of smaller injuries littered across your body.

you glance down at the scratch shauna was referring to, "i think that was misty- she grabbed me by the arm while i was trying to run and just kinda dug her nails into my skin... i don't think she was trying to hurt me though-"

shauna has already moved on, her hand moving to your lower thigh. she presses her palm down, causing you to wince at a bruise you didn't even know was there- how the hell did she know where your injuries were, but you didn't?

"what about here?"

"i'm not sure-" you stammered, searching for the reason as you replayed the event in your mind- "gen maybe? she kicked me pretty hard when melissa explained what happened but-"

shauna pokes at the bruise once more for good measure before going back to searching for another mystery mark somewhere along your body. another scratch, another scab, another bruise, another sore. she pointed out every little thing, giving each a firm squeeze forcing tiny pained gasps from your lips as she continued to pressure you into explaining the story behind each one.

shauna furrows her eyebrows, "you really think they'd save you? they want you dead. i'm your only hope."

you didn't answer, still refusing to accept the truth shauna was presenting to you.

she takes your silence as a sign to continue.

"they all hate you, you know that right?" she inches her way closer as she says it, her hands coming up to cup your face. you tried to turn away from her touch, but one of her hands moved to your chin, gripping it tightly as she forced you to look at her.

"i'm all you have left," she's closer now, closing the space between the two of you by quite literally crawling onto your lap. with nowhere else to put your hands you flatten them against your thigh, giving shauna all the more room as she continued to take up all the space in your lap, "and i think you know that too."

before you can even think of a solid response, shauna crashes her lips into yours.

shauna practically growls into your mouth as she pushes her body against yours. it's all tongue, teeth, and bottled up frustration, most of which is being taken out on you. it feels like she's trying to eat you alive, and you wouldn't be surprised if she was genuinely trying.

you don't notice it at first- the way she lazily rocks her hips- it's not exactly your top priority against the way she's trying to kiss you into the dirt. eventually she pulls away in favor of getting air (which the both of you hastily take in as if you had been living on the moon for the past ten years), and with your attention no longer being on making sure shauna didn't eat your tongue from inside your own mouth, you were finally able to acknowledge the bulge growing in her pants.

you glance at her, then at it.

back at her, back at it.

you feel like a pervert staring at her crotch for as long as you do, so you finally tear your eyes away and settle at looking at her face as if your eyes hadn't been glued to her dick for the past ten seconds.

"do you want some help with that?" to the best of your ability with your hands tied together the way they were, you cupped your hands and made an exaggerated tugging motion. you could practically see the gears turning in her brain, and when she grinned you purposefully strained your wrists against the ropes binding them together, "you'll just have to-"

"i'm not untying you."

damn.

fair enough.

shauna shifts onto her knees, placing one hand on your shoulder before using you as leverage to push herself to her feet. she over exaggerates it, pushing you harder than she needs to and damn near shoving you face first into the dirt floor. after nearly losing your balance, you correct yourself and sit upwards to get a proper view of the way she was now hovering over you, one of her hands burying itself in your hair while her other busied itself with removing her belt buckle.

you hated moments like these because if the circumstances were different, this would have been incredibly hot. you always thought shauna was pretty, and back home you probably would've fantasized about being tied up and at her mercy... you suppose in a way it was still kinda hot, but you didn't really have the time to dwell on that.

especially considering the way she begins to draw her knife with the hand that was once in your hair.

she doesn't do much with it- her hand, still gripping the knife, once again gets tangled up in your hair, so while it isn't actually prodding you it is there as a sort of warning... which was stupid considering you already agreed to get her off. you aren't sure why she's being so melodramatic, but then again you can't remember the last time shauna did something without an excessive amount of theatrics.

the buckle finally comes free and she tugs out her belt before dropping it to the floor... it takes her a hot minute since she's trying to remove her belt with just one hand, and it's lowkey embarrassing to watch but you pretend not to notice or judge.

once the whole spiel is over she locks eyes with you, cocking an eyebrow as if she expected you to do something.

"you don't expect me to take off your pants, do you?"

"what, you don't know how?"

"my hands are still fucking tied!"

shauna sighs, free hand hastily tugging down her jeans (and somehow also her boxers, impressively in just one motion), letting them fall to her ankles.

the hand against your head, somehow gentle despite holding a bundle of your hair in a tight fist, guides your head to meet her dick while her free hand mindlessly pumps her shaft.

you kiss her tip before taking it into your mouth, earning a soft gasp as she nudged you on, urging you to take more of her length. you try to focus on keeping your breathing steady as your head dips, lightly sucking as her dick slides further into your mouth. curiously you try to glance up (to the best of your ability) to glance at her expression, but not only was it difficult from your angle, she also proceeded to toss her head back as she shoves the rest of her cock with zero warning.

immediately you gag, to which she responds with a breathy chuckle before drawing back slightly and doing it again. you feel her tip hit the back of your mouth, and you try to pull back to regain your bearings but the hand in your hair keeps you steady, blade tight in her fist as a reminder to behave yourself.

she continues to roll her hips, occasionally pulling out just to drive her hips forward as if intentionally blocking your airway was her whole job. her sighs have morphed into groans, your own fear of being caught by how loud she was beginning to get quickly overruled by the fact that shauna didn't seem to care.

you can feel the cool metal from her blade press against the back of your head as she begins to get more sloppy. the knife is on it's side so at it's current it would have been unable to cut you, but should she continue to grow more careless you wouldn't be entirely surprised if it did happen.

before she could accidentally slice the back of your head open, she halts, her eyes rolling back as she shoves her dick in as far as it would go- not that you could see, the only information you received was the way her fist clenched impossibly harder as she broke into a strangled moan, ropes of her cum flooding your mouth and slinking down your throat. she pulls out slowly, and your immediate instinct to cough it up was cut off by her hands slamming over your mouth.

"swallow it." her voice was low and laced with authority, but you still (somehow) found it within yourself to whine and shake your head as a nonverbal NO. she furrows her eyebrows, forcefully tilting your head back as she once again ordered, "swallow."

you force yourself to relax, doing as she commands and shuddering at the sensation. she grins, ruffling your hair.

"good job."

her tone was weirdly sarcastic- you couldn't help but feel like she was toying with you, but before you could come up with some witty remark she's using one hand to shove you onto your back. you yelp in surprise while she sinks to her knees, promptly making her way on top of you and making herself comfortable on your chest.

in a way, it feels like you're cuddling but also not really. she's possessive about it, hooking her legs around your own and wrapping her arms underneath yours. if you were really cuddling, you'd both be comfortable, but there's a rock digging into your side and your head is still spinning from the impact, but you suppose when you're being used as a human pillow, your opinion doesn't really matter.

it's awkward.

you absolutely have to say something.

"so... what now?"

"...what do you mean?" shauna's response comes in a murmur- it seems like she's already falling asleep, tuckered out after cumming as hard as she did for the first time in quite a while.

"am i still due to be exiled?"

shauna snorts as if it was the dumbest question you could've asked, "obviously not."

"what do you mean obviously?" you press, with a little more aggression than you would've hoped, "they got majority. you said it yourself they want me dead."

"i overruled the decision," she sits upright, shuffling until she has your head boxed in with her forearms, "don't forget, I'M your queen now."

something about the way she says it makes you shiver.

"i... i don't understand..."

one of her hands reaches up to cup your face, her thumb affectionately running up and down your cheek after she notices the way you flinch from her touch.

"i'm in charge of what happens to you. your life is in my hands."

a smile spreads across her face as she studies your confusion. you try to come up with something to say, but your brain is foggy from the bullshit she was lobbing at you.

"in other words-" her tone was somewhat babyish, as if she was dumbing it down in simple words for you to understand- although it didn't take long for her harsh attitude to return, "you're all mine now."

and with that, she shuffles again and returns to her previous position, snuggling into your chest and trapping you down with her body weight.

"get used to it."

[fuqnia]

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

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

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

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

event masterlist | part one | part two

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

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

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

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

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

KYLE: seriously, what’s going on?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CARTMAN: sup. u busy?

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

YOU: what do you want

His response is almost instant.

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

Your stomach turns.

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

YOU: lol fuck off

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

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

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

YOU: what are you up to

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

The typing bubble pops up.

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

Your lips press together.

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

The typing bubble appears again.

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

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

CARTMAN: put on some pants and meet me outside

You hesitate, staring at your phone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your face burns. “Shut up.”

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

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

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

“…I fucking hate you.”

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

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

Cartman smirks. “Extremely.”

You scowl, shoving him. “I hate you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You glare at him. “Cartman.”

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

“Dude, seriously.”

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

Your brain stalls.

Your stomach flips.

“What?”

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

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

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

Cartman smirks, nodding. “Mhm.”

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

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

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

You almost want to cry.

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

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

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

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

It’s Kenny.

Your stomach drops.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Realization crashes over you like a fucking avalanche.

Karen never called Cartman.

Karen never asked to see you.

This was his plan.

Cartman set you up.

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

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

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

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

But you don’t.

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

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

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

Your stomach twists.

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

You hesitate.

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

But if you don’t go inside…

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

Fuck.

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

The door clicks shut behind you.

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

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

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

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

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

You are.

You really fucking are.

But you don’t.

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

Kenny huffs out a laugh. “No shit.”

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

But before you can, Kenny beats you to it.

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

Your breath catches.

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

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

Kenny laughs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Kenny—Kenny notices.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something in you snaps.

You shove him. Hard.

And for the first time—Kenny actually stumbles.

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

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

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

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

You freeze.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not the way you liked Kenny.

And Kenny fucking knows.

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

Your entire body locks up.

Because fuck him.

“Fuck you,” you spit, voice shaking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then you look at him.

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

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

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

Kenny doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kenny's lips press together, jaw tight.

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

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

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

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

And that’s what makes you break.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The silence that follows is deafening.

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

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

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

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

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

You step inside and close the door behind you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then the door creaks open.

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

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

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

You don’t acknowledge him.

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

“…You really hate me that much, huh?”

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

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

You don’t look at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your grip tightens on the magazine.

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

Finally, finally, you look at him.

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

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

Kenny doesn’t react at first.

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

You glare at him. “It was.”

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

Your breath stutters. “I—I didn’t—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your throat tightens.

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

You snap your head up. “What?”

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

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

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

Your mouth opens, but no words come out.

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

“You like me.”

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

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

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

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

But then, he just exhales.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your breath catches. Your entire body stills.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it terrifies you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His smirk presses into your skin. "Mmhmm."

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

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

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

But this—this is different.

Because you know he’s right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Kenny—"

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

You gape at him. "Oblivious?"

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

Your face burns. "It was practice!"

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

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

The realization sends a shudder through your entire body.

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

You hesitate. You swallow. "Why?"

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

Your chest aches.

Your stomach flutters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kenny grins. “Yeah, but you like it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But this is different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your pulse pounds in your throat.

You nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wanted this.

He’s wanted this.

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

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

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

You swallow hard, pulse hammering in your throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kenny notices. Of course, he notices.

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

Your breath hitches. "Shut up."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your stomach clenches. Your thighs squeeze together tighter.

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

"You still good?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His breath catches.

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

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

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

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

"Like you want me," he says simply.

Your breath catches in your throat.

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

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

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

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

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

And then—he moves.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He begs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heartbeat stutters.

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

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

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

Then, finally—

“…Okay.”

Kenny stills.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It isn’t.

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

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

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

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

That’s when you realize—he is.

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

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

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

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

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

It clicks.

Oh. He’s giving you an out.

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

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

And you want it.

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

His eyes snap to yours immediately, sharp, focused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The silence stretches. Too long. Too heavy.

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

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

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

Your stomach clenches. Your face burns hotter.

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

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

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

He notices. Of course he does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Kenny fucking smiles against you.

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

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

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

Kenny notices immediately.

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

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

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

You do.

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

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

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

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

And you are making sounds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kenny fucking loves it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Nuh-uh, babe. I wanna hear you.”

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

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

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

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

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

It’s too much.

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

“Oh—oh my God, Kenny—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Show me what you like.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your jaw drops. “You’re disgusting.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t think about it.

You kiss him.

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

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

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

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

You don’t want to move away from him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re shaking.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You do. You really do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, swallowing hard. “Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…Will it hurt?” you whisper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kenny freezes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Kenny—oh, fuck—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you want more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kenny McCormick is your boyfriend.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"AHAHAHAHA! PAY UP, BITCHES!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And just like that, he’s gone, slamming the door behind him, his laughter echoing down the hall.

Silence settles over the room. You and Kenny just stare at each other, exhausted, tangled together, your bodies still warm from everything you just did.

And then, somehow, it’s funny. The sheer absurdity of it, the fact that of course Cartman would bet on your love life and of course he would crash this moment just to gloat about it.

You snort first, and then Kenny’s grinning, shaking his head, and before you know it, you’re both laughing. It’s breathless, ridiculous, delirious, your shoulders shaking as Kenny presses his forehead to yours, his body still heavy on top of you.

"Our secret, huh?" he murmurs, lips brushing against yours.

You huff, nudging his shoulder. "Shut up."

luv u kenny <3

event masterlist | part one | part two

[juliettejwnewinesa]

could you please do an nsfw alphabet for beomseok? i loved the ones you did for sieun and suho! <3

NSFW Alphabet: Beomseok (Weak Hero Class 1)

Author's note: thank you so much anon I'm glad you liked it here you go NSFW Alphabet for beomseok

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A = Aftercare Beomseok isn't the type you'd expect to care much, but he actually becomes surprisingly clingy after sex. It's almost like the high of control and dominance leaves him crashing into a more vulnerable state, where he wants to feel you close, feel like he's still needed. Expect him to pull you close, nuzzle into your neck, and refuse to let you go until you're both a sweaty, tangled mess under the sheets.

B = Body Part (his favorite) Your throat. There's something about seeing his hand around it, watching your breathing hitch under his grip, that drives him insane. He likes the visual of how small you look compared to him when he's over you, hand on your neck, claiming you completely.

C = Cum He likes it messy. On your stomach, on your face, leaking out of you. But secretly... he loves the idea of filling you up the most. He has a bit of a breeding kink he won't admit out loud, but the thought of leaving his cum inside you and seeing it drip out makes him feral.

D = Dirty Secret He’s definitely thought about fucking you in places you shouldn’t be—quiet alleyways, behind locked doors at school. The idea of having you where anyone could walk in on you two makes him crazy, but he tries to suppress it (fails most of the time though).

E = Experience Beomseok acts cocky, but he's not as experienced as he pretends to be. His moves might be rough and a little greedy at first, but once he learns your body, he becomes dangerously good at ruining you.

F = Favorite Position Mating press. He loves to see your face, your legs pushed back, your body completely under him. It feeds his ego and lets him keep you as close as possible while driving into you.

G = Goofy Rare. Beomseok is more serious and intense, but on rare occasions, when he's in a really soft mood, he'll tease you with sarcastic little comments and a sly smirk.

H = Hair He keeps himself well-groomed, clean, and neat. A little hair, but he keeps it trimmed because he likes control over every detail.

I = Intimacy At first, it’s all about release for him. But once he gets attached? He uses sex to show emotions he can't put into words—possessiveness, desperation, loneliness. His touches will become slower, deeper, almost aching with feelings he’s too scared to say.

J = Jack Off Often, especially when he's frustrated or angry. But if he knows he can have you? He'd rather wait for the real thing.

K = Kink Choking, overstimulation, slight humiliation. He loves seeing you break for him—whimpering, begging, tears pooling in your eyes. But he balances it with intense praise after, whispering how good you did for him.

L = Location He doesn't care as long as he can have you. But private spaces where he can get messy and rough without holding back are his favorite—hotel rooms, his room, anywhere he can lock the world out.

M = Motivation Jealousy is his biggest trigger. If he sees someone else looking at you? Expect him to drag you somewhere private and remind you who you belong to.

N = No Beomseok would never actually hurt you or cross your limits. He might be intense, but he's hyper-aware of your boundaries. If you say stop, he's out in a second.

O = Oral He loves giving as much as receiving. There’s something about seeing you fall apart on his tongue that feeds his ego. He’s messy, sloppy, and loves to overstimulate you until you can’t take anymore.

P = Pace Fast, deep, unforgiving. He likes to keep you pinned down, hips slamming into you like he’s trying to ruin you for anyone else.

Q = Quickie Absolutely. He loves them. Especially if you're wearing something cute that pisses him off because you’re tempting him in public.

R = Risk He loves risky places but only if he's sure you won't actually get caught. He likes the idea of danger but still likes to keep control of the situation.

S = Stamina Very high. He can go multiple rounds, especially if he's feeling possessive or needy. Even if he's exhausted, he'll push himself to keep you trembling and overstimmed.

T = Toys He’s not huge on toys but might use them to punish you if you tease him too much—like a vibrator tied to you while he watches you squirm.

U = Unfair Very unfair. He loves teasing you until you're whining and begging, only to slow down and make you wait even longer.

V = Volume He’s gruff, low, and breathy—but when he’s really lost in you? Growls, groans, possessive whispers like “mine” will slip out between clenched teeth.

W = Wild Card Beomseok secretly loves fucking you with all your clothes still half on. There's something so hot to him about hiking your skirt up or pushing your panties aside and taking you messy and desperate.

X = X-ray (size) He’s above average. Enough to stretch you out just right, especially with the way he always makes you feel so full.

Y = Yearning Beomseok won’t admit it, but once he’s hooked on you, he gets needy real quick. He’ll pretend he’s fine without you, but the second he has you alone? He’s all over you, hands greedy, lips desperate, hips grinding against you like he’s starved.

Z = Zzz (sleep) Clingy sleeper. After he fucks you until you can't walk, he'll pull you against his chest, arm wrapped tight around your waist, refusing to let go even in sleep.

[thewertsearch]

ARADIA: this is going to be a wonderful adventure for everyone ARADIA: im a bit jealous honestly! ARADIA: or i would be if i wasnt having such a good time with my death fangirl thing :p KANAYA: So KANAYA: You Arent Coming Then ARADIA: no

Disappointing, but not especially surprising. Aradia's role as Dream Bubble coordinator is extremely important, and she's the only Player we've got who has lived experience with necromancy.

...that being said, she's also the only Player we know can hold back Perfect Jack. Hopefully Dave will learn to do something similar before he catches up.

SOLLUX: yeah, i think i'll hang behind here t0o, if that's 0k with you guys.

I didn't expect this, but it does make a lot of sense. Sollux can finally reconnect with the living Aradia he's been missing ever since she died - and besides, he doesn't actually have a body right now, so he can't physically travel with them.

Well, we've just lost two of the strongest Players on the team. I can't blame them for tapping out, but it does mean we've only got two God Tier Players left. I still think Rose's power can probably turn the remaining Players into a force to be reckoned with - but if we ever lose her, we'll be extremely vulnerable. Come to think of it, Dave probably can't even time-travel out in the Ring, so we'd effectively be down to zero God Tiers, one vampire, and a Terezi.

SOLLUX: i'm just d0ne with this crap, this insane adventure bullshit, it's nothing pers0nal. SOLLUX: i just want to spend time with aa and chill 0ut and catch up with some 0f our dead buddies, is that 0k?

I still can't hold it against Sollux, though. He's been asking to get off this ride since before the session even started.

KANAYA: Maybe I Will Stay Here Too

ABSOLUTLEY FUCKING NOT!