I Guess I Got Confused Again.

“Nothing at all, man,” he answered. Kyle looked around the room for a moment, taking in some of the unusual faces. “Kind of surprised Cartman wanted to invite Craig and them. I didn’t think they were too close.”

Stan snorted, catching the red head's eye. “They aren’t. Craig came into some money and Cartman has ideas.”

The two chuckled for a moment, already knowing how things were to pan out. It was typical Cartman, and Kyle was just glad to not be a part of it. At the very least, he was able to catch up with some old childhood friends, sharing anecdotes and life milestones. He knew he wouldn’t remember everything by the time he got home, but he could enjoy it for now.

“I’m telling you, this girl actually fucking bleached it!” Clyde’s voice yelled from the doorway, his frame blocking the entrance to the room. Typical Clyde to not realize he was in the fucking way.

“Got what bleached?” another voice asked from elsewhere.

“Her butthole dude!” 

Kyle could feel his eyes bug out for a moment, a look of disgust pulling his features. This is what they want to talk about? Really?

“You saying you finally got some ass?” Kenny barked with laughter, shoving his way past. “Good for you, Donovan!”

“Thank you, thank you!” the brunette said with a look of pride. “Now you boys are more than welcome to tell me all how jealous you are!”

“I’ve been getting that on the regular, asshole, you’re not special,” Craig whipped by, smacking Clyde in the back of the head.

Frowning, Kyle observed the others. They were guys, yeah, but that didn’t mean he particularly wanted to hear all of this. He certainly didn’t need to hear about Clyde and Craig “getting ass.” He was about to say so when Stan cut in.

“Most of us have partners dude, you think we haven’t gotten some?” 

We?

Kyle stared wide eyed at his best friend, mouth slightly dropping. As if he didn’t notice, Stan just kept talking, further scandalizing the taller man next to him.

“I don’t get it often, but hell if I pass up the chance,” he said, lifting his bottle to down the rest of his drink.

That's how the conversation began, much to Kyle’s growing displeasure. Comments and little quips were thrown out, and while he felt distaste with just how open they all were about this…he did find himself intrigued. It was the little snippets of things- the grip, the feel, how snug it was. 

“Nothing felt quite like it.”

That got him curious.

When Kyle first came into your orbit, you had been the shyest person he had ever met. Quiet as a church mouse, you had made your way around campus avoiding any and all contact with people. He supposed that’s what caught his attention- in the hustle and bustle of those around him, you were a peaceful moment. In a world of mislaid plans, arguments, and annoyances, that was just what his heart had been craving. There was no chaos or drama, just you. 

It took a few tries to successfully approach you. It was like you knew he was coming every single time, sidestepping into doorways and maneuvering your way through crowds at a speed he could not hope to follow. To this day you still laugh about the time he accidentally entered a full lecture hall thinking he had finally gotten ahold of you, an absolute sea of students and their professor staring him down until he awkwardly backed out. It wasn’t until he accidentally found you reading in the library one afternoon that he was able to make that first impression. 

It took time, more time than maybe others would be okay with, but Kyle could be patient. Slowly, he opened you up, bringing you out of that little shell you had around yourself so he could get to know you, to fall for you. It was the falling part that was quick for him in all honestly, but Kyle could not find it within himself to care. He had yearned for this type of connection all his life, and he’d be damned if he scorned it in any way.

The first time you both had sex he took his time. Kyle did everything in his power to prep you, make you comfortable in every way he could. That focus normally reserved for his work was solely on your pleasure. He had wanted it to be perfect for you, and despite those awkward moments that usually accompany first times, it was pretty close.

When he was inside you everything would melt away. You were soft in all the right places, the feeling of your walls around him dragging him further down into a mess of pleasure. No matter what position you two were in he would come undone easily just by the sound of your sighs in his ears and the feel of your fingernails dragging along his skin. The world didn’t exist, all that did was you and him. He never thought to ask for more because in his eyes there wasn’t anything better than what he already had. 

So yeah, one could say he was extremely smitten.

Perhaps it was the third beer he held in his hands, the condensation cold against his fingertips, or maybe it was some strange, unknown desire he had not been aware of, but the longer the guys spoke on it…the more the idea wormed its way into Kyle’s brain.

What would that feel like with you?

Pictures came unbidden to his mind once that thought popped into existence. You on your knees, head down to the mattress; You on your back, knees pressed up high or even those pretty little ankles near his head; Propped up on the couch or even the countertop. In each little snippet he could see his cock disappearing into you as he fucked that tight little hole.

Kyle could feel the flush rise up his neck with the how dirty it all felt. 

“Hey man, you alright?” Stan said, tipping his head into view. “You’ve been staring off for like, the last 10 minutes.”

Shaking those thoughts from his head, Kyle gave a tense smile. “I’m good, just thinking it’s about time to head out. Don’t like leaving Y/N alone all night, y’know?”

“Whipped!” Kyle heard Cartman yell out as he grabbed his keys from the bowl nearby, his feet carrying him quickly towards the front door. 

He felt a drop of disappointment seeing that you were dead asleep, on his side of the bed just like he had guessed, but in a way that was a good thing. He didn’t want to have to explain exactly why he was so insanely hard at the moment. He certainly did not wish to wake your sleeping form only to pound into you as hard as he could- judging by how intense he was pumping his cock with his fist he was sure it would’ve been rough, something you didn’t need when sleep still invaded your senses.

It was with a quiet, and somewhat subdued hope, that this little one time fascination would die along with his slumber.

It did not.

***

Kyle was in a hell of his own making.

That one idea stayed ingrained in his head, like a parasite. The first few days after guy’s night he just kept thinking about it, kept imagining it. Shame filled his chest every time as he tried to stomp those thoughts down, trample them into the dirt and hide them away. It was on the fourth day with cock in hand that his fingers typed in the word “anal” into the porn site search bar.  

Video after video, position after position, Kyle could not get enough. It wasn’t even that the acting was very good or that the girls were pretty, all he could do was think about you and him in all of those scenes. To see that hole pucker as he pulled out, the gasp when he went back in, the sight of an empty dripping cunt all while skin still hit skin was enough to bring him over the edge more than once. 

It was becoming a problem. All day those images played behind his eyelids, every blink driving him further and further into some sort of horny psychosis. He was definitely concerned when he couldn’t get through a whole workday without an emergency trip into the bathroom, biting his lip bloody to keep from making noise and alerting anyone to what he had actually been doing.

It was worse in the moments when Kyle was alone with you. He adored those times, when the door was closed and the rest of the universe could be held back and away from the two of you. But in every one of those moments he found himself salivating at the thought of tugging down your shorts or hiking up your skirt and taking your ass then and there. 

Kyle would never, of course. Not without your input on the matter.

This sort of thing could offend. He recalled something Kenny had said that night- an accidental slip that nearly led to him getting the shit beaten out of him. It was an honest mistake, but from the haunted look in that blond man’s eyes, Kyle knew that beating stayed with him. 

There was also the fact that he did not want to scare you. You were a bit sensitive, nervous with new things and situations. Kyle had always been more than happy to stand alongside you and hold your hand, especially when you two finally became intimate. You held him like he was an anchor, something to keep those swirling anxieties and worries in place, and that was something he held dear. 

But something like this could be a bit much for you. That’s why he let you take the lead on things. With sex, he let you make suggestions of new things to try, new positions. They weren't wild by any means, but it was more than enough for him. He never wanted to be a hand pushing you forward into an unknown you weren’t ready for.

He was resolved to keep those demented little thoughts to himself. He wouldn’t bring it up. He wouldn’t push.

That strong will of his crumbled when you came into the bedroom that evening wearing one of Kyle’s larger shirts. 

His eyes traced every inch of those bare legs up to the hem, which had only barely covered the black panties you wore. As you turned to grab something off the dresser he swallowed hard. He’d throw every shirt of his into your side of those drawers if it meant he could see this view of your ass more often. You bent over ever so slightly, bringing attention to the bottom of your cheeks hanging out from that thin material. Kyle couldn’t stop his tongue from darting out and wetting his suddenly dry lips.

“Hon, are you alright?” that soft voice of yours curled around him so sweetly, drawing him out of his daze.

“Yeah! Why do you ask?”

“You’ve been…a bit distracted lately,” you said, walking around the side of the bed, steps slow. Careful. “I just kind of noticed that we haven’t done anything for a while is all…” 

It was the brittle sound of those words that had his back straighten. He took in the way your shoulders curled forward, arms folding in front of your stomach as though you were protecting something precious. Bringing himself to his knees, the weight of himself sinking into the mattress, Kyle gave you a questioning look.

***

You noticed something had been wrong immediately following Kyle’s night with the boys.

Since your younger years you had always been perceptive to even the most miniscule of changes, reading between the lines of facial expressions and the slightest shift of tones. You were aware you read into it a little more than you should, your brain overthinking simple words and turning them into knives aimed straight towards your soul. This fun little ‘ability’ of yours had led to more than one bout of anxiety as a teen, but you were thankful to have at least a little hold over it as you grew. Or at least you thought you did.

From the second your hand reached out in those early hours of that first morning, a light touch to Kyle’s bare shoulder revealed through the mess of blankets, you felt his muscles tense. There were a million reasons why this could be, of course. Last night didn’t go as plannedl, he had not slept very well, had something on his mind, or maybe he was just still waking. But you latched onto another thought.

It was you. It was the smallest thing, and yet you had never felt that in him. He had always sunk into your touch as though he were trying to meld into your skin. That slight flinch, the muscles growing so still underneath, made you feel like you had been slapped.

That feeling did not diminish. You could convince your mind that perhaps Kyle was having an off day, but you couldn’t do so when his behavior persisted. Each day it was as if a rubber band wrapped around him tighter and tighter until he was practically suffocating. You kept catching sight of him staring at you, expression filled with something you couldn’t quite decipher. It was as if there was something he so desperately wanted to say but choked on the words.

And that terrified you.

By the end of the week you had felt yourself growing insane at the silence. It had been days and while he still talked with you, still slept beside you and stayed close, there was quiet in the middle of all of it. You were next to each other in bed with an empty canyon in between you two. The words you wanted to say had been filling up that space until finally, it had nowhere else to go but to spill over.

***

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No! No-shit- you've done nothing wrong!” Kyle leaned forward, stretching out an arm to take your hand in his. “I just…I've had some things on my mind. It's been a bit difficult to focus.”

“What kinds of things?” You whispered, fingers grasping his tightly. He sighed, before giving a light squeeze and hanging his head.

His mind rattled around with the words, explanations and excuses forming and falling apart. Kyle really didn't want to do this, not this way. But for you to have any notion that he was upset with you, or that you were a problem, was something he could not allow.

“The guys were talking the other night, and it just got me thinking,” Kyle murmured, his tongue thick in his mouth. God he really didn't want to fucking talk about it. As he struggled to speak, those thoughts he had tried to stamp down came back, shooting warmth directly downwards.

“About?”

“About you…”Kyle finally brought his eyes back up to yours, heat filled and full of desire. “About what I want to do to you.”

He felt the corners of his mouth curl upwards at the little “oh” of surprise you made. That sweet flush he loved worked its way up your chest and onto your face, a pleasing sight for him and his growing little problem downstairs. With a small tug, he brought you onto the bed and into his arms, lips meeting yours gently as first, before pushing into an urgency of need.

Maybe he wouldn't have to actually define the ‘what’, Kyle had thought, helping you out of his shirt and pushing you back onto the mattress, letting his weight encompass you while he ground his hips. With each sigh he felt himself growing harder, grinding more into you in a desperate plea to hear more.

You were already wet when his fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your legs and throwing them off to the side. His gaze lingered on your quim, eyeing that slickness with greed.

Only then did an idea pop into his head. 

It wasn't exactly what he wanted, but…it was a safe compromise. Something kind of new that wouldn't be too much, he was sure. He licked his lips.

“Love, can we try something?” Kyle said softly, his hands caressing down your bare legs. “I want to taste you but…maybe I could do that from behind?”

“Behind?” Apprehension filled your voice, drawing his eyes up to yours. It wasn’t uncommon for you to have his head full of curls between your legs, but perhaps his suggestion was…his stomach did a flip at the spark of excitement he found in your expression. The nervousness that he had found there switched to one of curiosity.

Nodding, you brought yourself to your knees and turned. Warm fingertips flattened to a palm as the man behind you gently pushed on your back, your chest sinking into the sheets. 

Kyle was about to lose his damn mind. Your ass, perfect in every way in his eyes, was propped up before him. He made quick work of putting his mouth on you, tongue lapping into your wet folds. It had only been a week and fuck did he miss this, the feel of you under his hands, the taste of you. He could never and would never get enough.

He knew your body, and he knew it well. Any anxieties that you may have had seemed to melt away. He ate like he had been starved, taking in every last drop of you. He felt himself smile as you leaned into it, muscles loosening and relaxing.

Kyle slowed, his fingers tapping along the side of your bottom as he licked a languid stripe up your center. He was considering something…something risky. You shifted a bit, as if to sit up, when he continued to slide his tongue upwards.His hands parted your cheeks slightly as he went, letting himself finally get up close to what had kept his mind in a chokehold all this time.

“K-Kyle?” his name came out shakily.

“Shhh, I just…I just really wanna try something.” Kyle’s voice was strained with arousal. Placing his tongue back to your ass he delved in, fingers gripping your skin tight.

Your body tensed, and he froze. Your uncertainty was a stop sign, a signal to wait which is exactly what he would do. A few beats passed as his warm breath hit your skin, and even from his vantage point he could see the goosebumps along your thighs.

Kyle could hear the wheels in your mind turn. Your mind was always full of thoughts, all of them overlapping one another in a cacophony that would make anyone dizzy, he was sure. But slowly, he watched as you settled, that tension visibly ebbing away.

“Just try to relax…let me make you feel good,” he murmured, one hand rubbing a soothing circle before moving down. Gently he rubbed his fingers down your slit, moving slow and pressing in just the way he knew would help. As you moaned, he smiled.

It was selfish really, what Kyle was doing. But having that little hole so close, close enough for a taste, was too much for him. He had to have it. And for him it was bliss. He could tell you were getting into it from how your cunt dripped, those little noises only serving to drive him further into a haze he had no fighting chance of leaving.

A small voice, a devil on his shoulder, spoke up.

She likes this.

 And if she likes this you might just get your wish.

The taste itself wasn't anything really, but it was the action in and of itself that did something to him.. To be so intimate in a way that felt over the line perverse. This was a part of you no one got to be close to, much less see, and here he was practically shoving his tongue in. It was addicting as he felt your walls clench around his pumping fingers, his breath coming out shortly as his mouth kept working at your other hole.

Your legs trembled, and for a moment Kyle worried that something was wrong. It was when his tongue hit your rim of nerves that he knew what he actually felt was shuddering. Your body wasn’t wound tight with anxiety, it was wound with pleasure. With that in mind he continued pumping in his digits, hitting every sweet spot inside of you. You weren’t going to hold on much longer by the way you buried your head into the sheets. It was with a loud moan that you finally came, waves crashing over you.

Kyle let you ride it out, getting his last tastes in while he could. When you finally collapsed onto your side he joined you, arms wrapping to bring you close to his chest. The fluttering of your heart could be felt through your back, those little tremors radiating through your form.

You had automatically opened your legs when he nudged you, just enough for him to slide his aching cock between them. With the slickness between those lovely thighs he slid through with ease. 

He humped a few times, enjoying the feel of it, of this intimacy with you. One hand crawled up to your breast, lightly massaging as you continued your breathing, sternum rising as though it craved his touch. With every small thrust into the fat of your thighs Kyle spread your arousal, the quiet sound so delicious to his ears he couldn't stop his next words from slipping out.

“I need you,” he keened, feeling the curve of your ass on his pelvis. “I need you so bad, baby.”

You had started spreading your legs again, a hand coming down to angle him inside when he stopped you.

“Not there,” with a strained grunt, Kyle pulled himself from in between your thighs and moved his cock more behind you, its length settling on your backside. He felt your slight jolt of surprise, hands coming up to grab the arm holding you. 

“Please, baby,” Kyle's voice a beg as he buried his head into your shoulder, allowing the scent of you to wash over him. “Please, just the tip. It's all I can think about, please.”

Kyle knew this was pathetic. He knew what he was doing was sad, begging and pleading for something like this. He prepared for you to tell him no, a word that no matter where you were in your coupling he would listen without a single complaint. He knew you knew this, that you held the power here.

“Ju-just the tip?” 

He nodded against your neck, his shaft already pushing forward between your cheeks. God, he was so hard it was nearly uncomfortable. As the head of his cock made contact he heard you take a deep, bracing breath.

He was slow, relying on the wetness of his tongue from minutes earlier to aid him as he pushed through. Your hiss at the stretch hit his ears, stilling him. “If…if it’s too much I can stop.”

You turned your head to kiss his arm, lightly squeezing as you did so. A sign to keep going.

A groan was ripped from his throat when he finally got the tip inside. He knew it had to have been uncomfortable, pulling you further towards him. Placing kisses along your skin, whispers of “I’m sorry,” left his lips as he waited for you.

This was better than he had imagined. He knew things would be tight, but this was an actual vice. The sensitive head seemed to pulse within you as he tried to control his ragged breaths.

“Does it hurt?” The question had been sitting on his tongue, souring the elation he had been feeling. As good as he was feeling, he needed to know about you.

“Its..” You breathed out a few more times, nails digging into his skin, before continuing quietly. “A little...It’s strange…but it’s oddly kind of- ugh- good.”

Kyle struggled with keeping himself still, his fingers pressing hard on your hips. He bit his lip and clenched his eyes shut, hoping, praying, that he could remain as such. It was when he felt your hips move, the smallest shift, that his resolve broke.

His pelvis had a mind of its own, pushing slowly and just moving the head in a little more before pulling out the same way. 

“Fuck!” He breathed, “Y/N, I-I can’t. I'm trying-”

Those words were cut off by your own hips moving back, urging him on. With a groan Kyle kept going, pushing further with that agonizingly slow pace. As he felt himself go deeper into that tight little hole, he knew his mind was gone. 

There was a new urgency in the way you moved, like you were actively seeking what he was giving you. Your grip on him no longer felt like you had been looking for a life-line, instead an anchor as you rocked back to help him. In that he felt the last binds of his self control come loose.

Kyle had veered from his slow pace, hips jutting forward faster and faster. He had nudged one of his knees between yours, intertwining your legs together as he continued fucking into you. Every sense he had was in overload. The feeling of your ass bouncing on his cock, one hand pressing into the soft curve of your hips and the other squeezing those breasts he loved so much, even the smell of you was driving him insane.

Fuck, she’s so goddamn warm ran through his mind, his need to have you and just you becoming the only thoughts in his head. Every bit of his imagination could not do you justice. Seeing the way your body reacted to him was more than what any video on the internet could do for him. The feel of you writhing in his arms, your own needy movements now rivaling his, back pressed so hard against him he was sure your hearts were beating in tandem, it was enough to last him a lifetime. And then there was what he was hearing.

It was the sounds that dropped from your mouth, open in wanton need, that drove him to the brink. He was so used to those breathy moans sounding right in his ear, quiet and lovely. But tonight the volume control seemed to turn, the noise ricocheting off the walls in a chorus of arousal and lust. Kyle could feel himself growing close, his hazy mind working to keep you in focus. He didn't even need to think about reaching down, his fingers finding their mark naturally like second nature. 

Your body was impossibly hot to his touch like he had been stoking an inner fire burning incredibly bright. He could feel those tell-tale tremors once more, your breath coming in shallow as he rubbed tight little circles around your clit. It was when you started trying to talk, babbling, telling him how you felt that Kyle knew what was coming, and that mixed with all the sensations he had been feeling himself was his rapture.

You came with a shout. Digging your nails into Kyle's forearm. His hips stuttered before he stilled, spilling into you with a final grunt.

“You’re so good, you’re so fucking good,” he whispered in to your hair as he held you close, toes curling as those final spurts left him. “I love you so goddamn much, so much.”

***

You both sat there a moment, breathing hard and fast. Kyle remained inside you, his cock softening, but never letting you go. Sweat began to cool on your skin, goosebumps raising along your arms.

That was…unexpected. It was uncomfortable at first, but a part of you had not minded. Underneath that stretch that had your body locking up was something else, a feeling you couldn’t fully describe as anything other than an unknown pleasure. It was faint, but your body wanted to seek it out.

And that hint of pleasure you had found and wanted to snatch for yourself had come back, mingling with the pain in a dance that had you unsure of where your physical body even was. Kyle may have been a bit desperate, but you were no better as you lost yourself in his touch. You wanted to feel shame at letting those barriers you normally put up come down, but with how you felt here and now, you couldn’t.

“Was…was that okay?” His voice was colored with guilt as he swallowed heavily. “I…I didn't mean to push you into it. I swear I won't do it again-”

“You didn't push me,” you said raspily, interrupting his personal reprimand. “Kyle, I know if I had said something, you would've stopped. Yes?”

He nodded, sweaty curls hitting the curve of your neck.

“Did I tell you to stop?” You nearly laughed when he shook his head, the image of a downtrodden dog coming to mind. “Then you did nothing wrong.”

Kyle sighed, his thumb rubbing along the breast he still had in hand. “I didn’t hurt you?”

Turning to lay on your back, your eyes searched Kyle’s face. Those thick eyebrows were scrunched, a small wrinkle between them deepening as his lips turned downwards. He was actually concerned, the thought cute but still making your heart thrum. Taking your hand you lightly traced a finger down the plane of his face, smoothing out his worry lines.

“It was uncomfortable and it hurt a little,” you admitted softly, hating how he winced, “but it didn’t stay that way. You made sure of that.” 

“You, uh, you seemed like you were getting into it a bit,” Kyle smiled sheepishly, that grin growing as your face flushed.

“I…um,” you stuttered. Despite the fact that you were laid bare, that shy feeling found you. You tensed, ready to bring your hands up to hide your face when Kyle stopped you with a laugh.

“It’s fine, it’s great, really…knowing you liked it actually made it better, I think.” Kissing your head, he chuckled again. “it was better than I had imagined it at least.”

“And just for how long have you been imagining this?” Your teasing lilt stilled him, a tone he had never quite heard in your voice before.

Kyle sputtered for a second as red bloomed on his cheeks. His eyes darted to and fro before finally, he let out a sigh of defeat.

“Guy’s night.”

“Is that why you were acting so strange?” The pieces began to click into place. His inability to speak to you, the hesitant touches, the outright staring, it all began to make sense.

“Some of the guys were talking about it…guess I got a little curious…” 

“Hm. Well you should probably thank them when you see them next.” you said bluntly, half ignoring the way Kyle's eyes shot to yours in shock, “I mean, it was a good idea…”

As your voice trailed off, Kyle's grin returned. “Are you saying you wouldn't mind doing this again sometime?”

“I mean it might be a while!” You hurriedly got out, laughter bubbling forth. After a moment your voice got quieter, a little more thoughtful, “but yeah… I suppose I am.”

You felt that nose you so loved nuzzle into the crook of your neck, kisses peppered along the skin eliciting a string of laughter neither of you could hold in.

***

Clyde had been staring at Kyle's face intently for the past 15 minutes, and it was getting on the redhead's last nerve. Apparently, a one time invite had been misconstrued into being an actual one in Clyde's mind, the man showing up to Cartman's yet again that Friday.

“Can I help you, Clyde?” Kyle spoke up, trying to keep his voice level. His annoyance was palpable, evident by how Stan's head whipped around to look at them.

“Something’s different about you tonight, Broflovski. What is it?” The brunette tilted his head, eyes roaming over Kyle's features.

“Nothing is different. Now if you would please stop staring at me that'd be-”

“You got some ass! Holy shit!” The man sprung up, finger pointed excitedly at Kyle who just looked alarmed.

Before Kyle could even get another word out, Kenny leaned out from the kitchen doorframe, lips curled up teasingly. “Kyle, you dog! Were you gonna tell us or what?” 

Motherfucking Donovan, he mentally cursed. Now Stan and fatass joined the queue, their questions and shitty little jeers adding to the mix of excitement Kenny and Clyde brought.

A buzz had Kyle looking down at his phone.

Y/n: I'm going to bed! Love you love you love you ❤️

Kyle had so many images of you in his head, some sweet and some incredibly filthy, but once again the one of you curled up in bed had him smiling. It was a blessing during this whole awkward interaction.

In fact, it gave him an out.

“I'd love to stay and chat about this really, but my girl’s at home and she kind of needs me there.” Hopping up, he blatantly ignored the shouts of disappointment thrown his way. “You understand, right? Anyway, I'll see you guys next week!”

Warm nostalgia floods your senses as you hang half off the mattress, the blood pooling in your head while your hair brushes the floor. The position is ridiculous, yet familiar, mimicking the countless times you sprawled across this very bed while he paced during a rant about homework or some injustice committed by Cartman. You can almost hear his voice—sharp when he was frustrated, soft when he was thinking, warm when he let his guard slip. Those moments were effortless in a way adulthood no longer allows. Lying upside down, the ceiling seems farther away and his achievements loom larger, making it impossible to ignore how far he’s stretched himself just to retain the identity everyone expects from him. A tight knot forms in your throat, not from the angle but from the realization that he’s been drowning quietly while the people who care about him stood on the shore, unaware.

The room remains still, lit by the muted afternoon glow that filters through his curtains, and the longer you stay there the more the silence presses in. It isn’t uncomfortable—just lonely, in that specific way spaces feel when the person they belong to has been fading from themselves. You reach out automatically toward one of the pillows, tugging it close as if it might anchor you, and the faint scent of his shampoo clings to the fabric. The familiarity coils around you with a tenderness that borders on painful. You imagine him walking through the front door downstairs, weighed down, exhausted, convinced no one has noticed the cracks forming. You imagine being here when he does, waiting in the one place that saw him at his most unguarded, hoping that maybe your presence can remind him he doesn’t have to hold everything together alone.

Your gaze travels toward the ceiling, where the glow-in-the-dark stars still cling in their crooked constellations, their edges yellowed slightly with age but stubbornly holding on. A soft laugh escapes you before you can stop it, warm and involuntary, tugged out by the memory of Kyle barking orders at all four of you while you stood on mismatched chairs. Stan kept sticking the stars in the wrong places, Kenny kept stealing them to make obscene shapes, and Cartman deliberately put them upside down just to piss Kyle off. The scene had devolved into yelling and bickering within minutes, but Kyle had refused to let any of you quit because, according to him, “proper celestial accuracy” mattered. In the end he’d climbed the chair himself, muttering irritably under his breath about being “surrounded by idiots,” and arranged the constellations exactly the way he wanted. Seeing them now, slightly peeling but still glowing faintly in the afternoon shadows—makes a rush of affection bloom in your chest that tightens your smile.

A faint creak of the front door reaches your ears, but you don’t think much of it until a heavy, weary sigh rolls up the stairwell, carrying exhaustion so dense it makes your own lungs tighten. You blink toward the sound, still upside down, the room blurring a little as the blood shifts in your head. Footsteps reach the hallway, slow and dragging, and Kyle appears in the doorway, freezing the moment he sees you sprawled across his bed like a human bat. You lift your hand lazily, offering a small wave without bothering to right yourself.

“Hey,” you say, voice light, easy. “Welcome home.”

Kyle stares at you for several seconds, long enough that you start to wonder if he’s disassociating. His expression is unreadable; tired eyes, tense jaw, forehead creased with the habit of thinking too hard for too long. Eventually he drags a palm over his face and mutters, “I’m not gonna ask how you got in here.”

You grin at him, unbothered. Sheila’s excitement practically launched you through the door; if anything, you’re surprised she didn’t send you up with snacks.

Kyle shrugs off his jacket, the motion sluggish, weighed down. Fabric slips from his shoulders, revealing the strain in the line of his posture, and he tosses it onto his desk chair without looking. As he digs into his pocket, your eyes catch the silver glint of a cigarette pack in his hand. He taps it against his palm out of habit, something jittery and rhythmic, and your brows shoot up.

“You don’t smoke,” you say, almost laughing from shock.

His response is a dry, razor-thin, “Good observation.”

The sarcasm lands with a thud, but the familiar edge to it pulls another giggle from you. He huffs at the sound, the exhale sharp but not truly irritated, more like he’s forgotten how to handle any form of warmth without flinching.

Quiet settles between you both, thick enough to feel like another presence in the room. You let it linger for a heartbeat, two, before breaking it with an exaggerated, drawn-out, “Sooooooo.”

Kyle presses the heel of his hand to his brow, muttering something you can’t hear, clearly refusing to play along. His silence is not angry, just exhausted, stretched thin like he’s been holding himself together with threads.

You grin wider. Annoying him has always been oddly effective therapy.

Your toes nudge the back of his calf as he tries to ignore you, and he groans under his breath, defeated in the face of your persistence. Slowly—reluctantly—he lowers himself to sit on the floor beside your upside-down head. The movement is stiff, drained, but he still does it. His knees bend awkwardly, and he braces his arms across them, staring ahead at nothing in particular. From your vantage point, the freckles on his cheekbones look darker, the shadows under his eyes deeper, the worry in his expression sharper. He looks older and younger all at once, like the weight of everything he’s been carrying has crushed the adult version of him back into the boy you grew up with.

Your smile fades into a gentler curve, the teasing slipping away as something earnest unfurls inside you. His profile is inches from yours, inverted in your vision, but close enough that you can see the way his throat tightens when he swallows.

“I miss you,” you say softly.

The words fall between you with a quiet sincerity, free of theatrics, free of pressure.His eyes flick toward yours, startled for a moment, and the guarded tension in his expression cracks, revealing a flash of raw vulnerability he can’t hide quickly enough. His lips part, not quite forming a response, and the faint tremor in his inhale tells you he felt the words the way you meant them—deeply.

You wait for him to answer, watching the way his stare fixes itself on the far wall instead of you. The silence stretches, not hostile, just worn-out, like he doesn’t have the energy to shape the words sitting behind his ribs. You exhale softly, accepting it for what it is. He’s here. That’s enough.

Your voice slips out again, gentler this time. “Everyone misses you, you know.”

His jaw twitches, but he doesn’t turn.

You keep going. “They’re all unbearable without you. Stan’s brooding so intensely he looks like he’s auditioning for some tragic indie film. Kenny keeps trying to cheer everyone up by doing increasingly dangerous stunts, which is… honestly terrifying. Cartman’s been moody, which should be normal, but he’s been moody because you’re not around to argue with him. It’s like the whole ecosystem fell apart.”

A faint puff of air escapes Kyle’s nose—almost a laugh, but it dissipates before fully forming. You smile at it anyway.

“The whole group is weird without you,” you continue, words spilling out now that the dam has cracked. “Like, we function, I guess, but there’s this missing… center. You always keep us grounded even when you’re spiraling, which is insane by the way, because you’re allowed to not be the stable one all the time.”

Kyle rubs his thumb along his knuckle, slow and distracted. His shoulders curl inward, as if your words are brushing up against a part of him he’s been trying to hide.

“I know you shut everyone out when things get bad,” you say softly, “and that’s okay, really. You don’t owe us constant access to your brain. But you don’t have to go through it alone either. You can lean on people. Or—if you prefer being alone—just maybe… alone near people? Does that make sense? Probably not. I’m trying to say you don’t have to disappear for weeks for us to care. We already do. You don’t have to earn it, or prove anything, or—”

Your rambling builds momentum before you realize it, the kind of frantic tenderness that crashes out when you’ve been worried for too long. You’re halfway through a tangent about burnout and self-imposed pressure and how mental health isn’t some marathon he needs to win when he moves.

The shift is subtle at first, his hand sliding slightly closer to where your hair spills off the bed, his shoulder angling toward you, but then he leans in fully, closing the narrow space between you with a careful slowness that knocks the air from your lungs. You’re still mid-sentence when he kisses you.

The world tilts, not because you’re upside down but because Kyle touches you like he’s afraid you might vanish if he breathes too deeply. His lips meet yours with a tenderness, the kind of contact that unfolds rather than strikes. His mouth is warm, hesitant, then firmer when you exhale against him, your surprise melting into instinctive response. Every second stretches long and unhurried, his lips brushing yours again with a quiet, aching need.

He lifts a hand to the side of your face, fingers weaving into your hair with a careful pressure, guiding you closer even though you’re already barely a breath apart. The angle is awkward with you upside down, yet somehow it crafts a deeper intimacy, his kiss tilting your world in the most literal way. His lips part against yours, slow and gentle, savoring rather than taking. He kisses you like someone who has replayed the thought in silence for months and finally lets himself feel it.

When he pulls back just enough for your lips to separate, you feel his breath brush you; shaky, warm, and painfully genuine.

“I miss you too,” he murmurs, voice breaking on the edges.

He leans in again before you can respond, capturing your mouth in another slow, lingering kiss. This one sinks deeper, his thumb stroking your cheek as if grounding himself with the softness of your skin. His lips move with a fragile hunger this time, like he’s learning the shape of relief through touch alone. The taste of mint and the faint trace of cigarette smoke mingle on his breath, contradicting each other the way he contradicts himself—disciplined and unraveling all at once.

Between the next kiss he whispers against your lips, “I’m fine. I will be. I’ll… be back soon.”

His forehead stays pressed lightly to yours, breath mingling with yours, the moment warm and suspended, as if the room itself doesn’t dare move too quickly. He brushes another kiss against your lips, soft and tentative, like he’s worried the honesty he just admitted might shatter unless he seals it with touch. The kiss is feather-light, so careful it sends a flutter through your chest more than any heated moment ever could.

You giggle against his mouth, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably. “Never smoke again,” you whisper, your smile shaping the words against his lips. “You taste bad. Next time you’re stressed you should just take it out by pound—”

Kyle lets out a scandalized noise before your sentence can even land. His palm presses to your face and he gently pushes your head away from his. The playful shove sends your view tilting even more upside down, your laughter spilling out freely as he stands up in one swift motion.

“Oh my god,” he groans, running a hand through his curls with theatrical irritation. “You’re perverted. Actually perverted. I leave for two seconds and you go straight to—what even—” He gestures vaguely, flustered in that unmistakable Kyle way, cheeks tinted a warm rose that gives him away despite the lecture building in his voice.

He starts pacing, launching into a tirade that would be intimidating if his ears weren’t so red. “You can’t just say things like that! Who raised you? Why is that your first suggestion? Do you realize how unhealthy that coping mechanism is? Do you even—are you listening to yourself?”

You watch him from your upside-down perch, your vision filled with the swing of his curls, the animated motion of his hands, the spark returning to his eyes as he scolds you. You should probably pretend to be apologetic, but relief swells in your chest too intensely to hide. He looks alive again. Annoyed, flustered, tense, expressive—Kyle, the one you’ve been aching for through weeks of silence and worry.

“Perverted,” he mutters again, pointing a finger at you like it’s a diagnosis. “Seriously. You need help.”

You grin so hard your cheeks hurt.

Because even as he paces and lectures and tries very poorly to pretend you didn’t just kiss him breathless on his bedroom floor, there’s light back in his face. There’s life in his voice. There’s warmth in the air between you.

You missed this. His dramatics, his quick temper that always softens at the edges, his inability to hide how much he cares even while pretending he doesn’t. You missed him so much it had settled like a weight on your ribs, but watching him now, alive with emotion, even if irritated, feels like that weight finally easing.

He wheels around mid-rant to throw another reprimand your way, only to stop when he sees the expression on your face—soft, open, overflowing with the relief he never let you say out loud.

The lecture falters.

You don’t say anything. You don’t need to.

☆ stan marsh

hopeless romantic

will definitely do the most cheesy things for you

has a mixtape of songs that remind him of you

writes love letters, but never gives them to you

feels everything deeply, he's a big ol' baby

late night talks about his fears and dreams

craves emotional intimacy and trust w/ you

super duper attentive to your needs

will put you over himself

overthinks

enjoys laid-back dates! like movie dates, thrifting, strolls

gets jealous reallyyy easily

wont outright admit it tho

very insecure, if someone flirts with u, he'll just sulk LOL

avoids confrontations at all costs

not afraid to cry in front of you

vomits on you if you do something really provocative to him

always offer his jacket/hoodie to you

loves holding your hand

laces his fingers thru yours and swings your hands

goofy ah grin when you surprise him with kisses

big on cuddling

gets super flustered when his friends teases him about you

obsessed with your laugh

keeps a picture of you in his wallet

NSFW

sooo nervous during your first time with him

very eager to please!

takes his time learning what you like

kisses every inch of your body

starts with your lips and works his way down

definitely a soft dom

"does this feel good?" "tell me if you want me to stop"

loves holding your hand while in you

eats your p out like your his last meal

i think he would be more into receiving than giving, but doesn't mind giving at all!

gets shy when you compliment him and tell him how good he is making you feel

prefers gentle sex, unless you want it rough

his entire body flushes red when you tease his cock

like palming thru his shorts, or pressing quick kisses to his tip

loves to cum in your mouth

goes crazy if he gets to paint your face tho

i'm sorry but this man is into creampies...

gets turned on when you're really emotional/crying from him pleasuring you

favorite position is definitely cowgirl

definitely an ass man, loves squishing/pinching your skin

kisses your forehead, cheeks and lips after going down on you

i think he would also be kinda quiet, wouldn't let out that many moans

☆ kyle broflovski

shows his love thru actions rather than words

remembers every anniversary, even the little ones :)

makes detailed itineraries for dates

even though he's a yapper, he definitely enjoys listening to you

fiercely loyal

takes no disrespect towards you

ready to work anyone's shit as so much as they look at you funny

probably would like someone who would challenge him intellectually

needs you to have the same core values as him

DO NOT DO PDA WITH THIS MAN

he will just look at you with pure disgust if you even attempt to...

but will secretly hold hands under the table or sneak a kiss when no one is looking

puts too much pressure on himself to be perfect for you

always notices this little things about you

oh you changed your nail color? you applied your makeup differently?

will blush like crazy when you compliment him

awkwardly rubs the back of his neck

will get irrationally jealous

tries to hide it by cracking sarcastic jokes

writes you long thoughtful texts when your apart, updates you about his day, asks you how yours went

becomes super attentive when your sad or stressed

wraps you in a blanket, makes you tea

i feel like he'd hate the feeling of having a crush

but once he's in a relationship, lowkey a romantic, buy you books he'd think you'd like, jewelry that compliments your skin tone

NSFW

overthinks everything at first

constantly asks "is this okay? are you sure?"

like i said, super attentive, he needs to make sure you're okay

loves eye contact while fucking you

gets really shy when you take control but secretly loves it

prefers slow deliberate strokes and touches

has a thing for neck kisses– both giving and receiving

talks your through it

"you're perfect" "you feel so good"

gets competitive if you tease him about lasting longer

please kiss his freckles... he'll go absolutely feral

not afraid to leave hickeys, scratches or nail prints on you

wrap your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck and his life is yours LOL

i think missionary would be his favorite position

needs to see your face

it's his life mission to make you squirt...

loves fingering you

sit on his face ?

super embarrassed about his moans, but lets it out anyways lmfao

loves your titties, no matter the size

will beg you to let him cum in you

☆ kenny mccormick

we all know kenny is a natural flirt

will wink, smirk, and use cheesy pick-up lines to make you blush

loves physical affection

always has an arm around your waist

makes you laugh constantly

goes to extreme lengths to see you smile, whether it's his silly pranks or grand gestures

draws little hearts and doodles on your notebooks/texts

if he's super bored, he'll draw on your skin lmfao

super duper protective— he'll walk you home late at night and make sure you're always safe

loves taking you on adventurous dates, especially sneaking into places you're not supposed to be

calls you "babe," "sweetheart," or "princess" with that drawl of his hehe

not above embarrassing himself, will write cringe worthy poems or songs and serenade you

immediately notices when you're a little bit off

pulls you into a hug, rubbing your back

buys you little trinkets and steals snacks from eric, saying, "i saw this and thought of you!"

obsessed with kissing you, he'll lean in for a quick peck and smirks when he notices your smile

immediately goes back in for a longer kiss

i think he's super good at braiding hair, and loves playing with yours!

please wear his band tees <3

NSFW

super duper confident, definitely knows what he's doing

loves teasing you, using soft kisses and touches to drive you crazy before giving in

worships your body, tracing every curve with his lips and hands

like kyle, adores it when you take charge and being at your mercy

whispers dirty things in your ear, his voice low and sultry

"you're so fuckin' beautiful babe, I can't get enough of you."

VOCAL AS FUCK ! he'll groan, sigh, whisper your name, letting you know exactly how good you're making him feel

has a downright pornographic moan....

obviously a boob guy, he'll suck and manhandle your tits like there's no tomorrow

will cop a feel secretly infront of others as well LOL

also a thigh and neck guy—he'll kiss, nip, and mark you like he's marking a claim on you

definitely cums alot.... i'm sorry lmfao

dirty as fuck as well... spits in your mouth, puts his fingers in your mouth, making you suck him

taps his tip against your tongue, smearing his precum all over your lips

a big fan of sloppy toppy, grabbing your hair and face fucking you

he's tew good with his tongue... and so so messy when eating you out

will not hold back with his noises, literally slurping ???

loves loves loves overstimulation

favorite position is mating press, loves looking at where you guys connect

cusses when he cums

will crack some corny joke afterward to make you laugh,

"so... we're pretty good at this, huh?" and giggles like a schoolgirl

loves cuddling afterwards!

☆ eric cartman

definitely does grand gestures

brags to everyone about being in a relationship

"yeah, she's lucky to have me."

nobody believes that...

hates PDA in theory, but secretly loves it when you grab his hand or kiss his cheek

he'll complain, but his blushing face gives him away

sends you the most random memes and videos throughout the day as his way of saying he's thinking abt you <3

gets ridiculously competitive when it comes to impressing you

if someone else buys you flowers, he'll show up with a bouquet and stuffed animal, screaming profanities at the other person

jealousss to the max

glares daggers at everyone he perceives a threat, coming up with some sick and twisted plan is his head to take 'em down

gets super pouty when you tease him, but loves the banter between the two of you "i'm not fat, i'm big-boned and you know it!"

will absolutely demand you come over to "study", but in reality he just wants to spend time with you hehehe

has a soft spot when you baby him a little

like brushing his hair or adjusting his hoodie, he'll pretend to hate it but he's melting inside

if you're upset, he'll try to cheer you up in his own weird way...

usually a mix of crude jokes and awkward affection ??

please don't cry infront of him, he'll just panic

keeps a picture of you on his phone as his lock screen, and gets super defensive if anyone points it out

"shut up kahl! it's not even a big deal!"

gaslights the hell out of you, but eventually gives in when he realizes you'll just gaslight him back

will bring you up in any and every conversation, and doesn't care if it annoys the fuck out of his friends

proudly shows off your achievements and loudly declare that you're the bestest girlfriend in the world !

until you piss him off...

NSFW

talks a big game about being dominant and kinky

but he's secretly all about soft and sensual moments with you <3

loves loves loves being in control, rarely lets you take the lead

he needs to boost his ego somehow!

will grab your jaw to force you to look at him, his nails pressing hard into your cheeks

"awe, my poor baby is being fucked too dumb, can't even speak properly"

i'm sorry, but this man never shuts up in bed

whether it's dirty talk or low/breathy moans, he's always yapping

really mean too ):

depending on his mood, he'll either take you to pound town, or just veryy lazy sex

gets flustered if you tell him how good he's making you feel, and fails majorly covering it up

"well, duh. i'm amazing."

loves leaving hickeys—he'll mark you in places just barely hidden, so you're always reminded your his.

obsessed with the fat of your ass and tits, doesn't matter the size—he's all about kisses and touches

will 100% lose focus if you whisper in his ear

his cocky demeanor crumbles instantly, and he's completely at your mercy

gets embarrassed easily if you get too emotional, crying and pawing at his chest that you feel too good

this man does not own a single condom... he'll just pull out and paint your stomach

edges you when he's in a particularly bad mood, and only gives in when you're begging

definitely prefers receiving over giving, but likes the feeling of your walls clamping down on his fingers

asks you to stick out your tongue so he can see the load he blew LMFAOO WHY DID I WRITE THIS

i can't decide if he'd prefer doggy style or cowgirl, so ig just depends on his mood?

has a secret stash of candles or mood lighting for when things get "serious"

will deny deny deny it if anyone ever finds out.

his aftercare is surprisingly sweet— he'll tuck you in, grab snacks, and make sure you're comfortable before he starts pretending he doesn't care <3

☆ butters stotch

is THE definition of doting boyfriend

he'll write you sweet notes and hide them in your bag for you to find later

always asks for your opinion on everything

from what outfit he should wear to what movie the two of you should watch

he just wants to make you happy 😭

blushes like crazy when you compliment him, his hands fidgeting nervously as he stammers out a thank you

will call you every nickname under the sun

"sweet pie," "honeybunch," "cutie patootie"

he's so genuine it's impossible not to grab his cheeks and smile

loves holding hands—it makes him feel safe and connected to you

like stan, he'll swing your arms as you walk, grinning ear to ear

will apologize profusely for the tiniest things, even if it's not his fault

"oh, gosh, i’m sorry! did I step on your toe?"

keeps a running list of all your favorite things so he can surprise you with thoughtful gifts or dates!

if you're upset, he'll bake you cookies or cupcakes and sit with you until you feel better

"it's okay to cry, you know. i'm here."

absolutely adores cuddling, but gets super shy at first

once he's comfortable, he's wrapping you in the coziest of hugs

brings you flowers he picked from the campus quad, tied with a little ribbon

"i hope you like ‘em! i thought they were real purdy."

gets starry-eyed whenever you talk about your dreams or passions

he's your biggest cheerleader and believes you can do anything!

definitely giggles as you try to kiss all over his face

allows you to paint his nails, so you both can match

kisses your scratches/bruises whenever you get hurt, then patches you up himself

takes candid photos of you, so he'll always remember the feeling of moments with you <3

NSFW

don't let this man fool you...

he'll act all nervous and shy at first

he'll blush bright red when you undress in front of him

he'll nervously kiss every inch of your skin, murmuring soft compliments as he goes

he'll shyly ask, "is it okay if i touch you there?"

like he's not about to have you begging for him to keep going

once he realizes how much you're into it, he flips a switch

suddenly his shy little kisses turn into biting your lip

pinning you down

murmuring in a low voice, "i'll take care of you, baby"

he'll start slow, watching you squirm under his touch

but he's secretly enjoying the power of making you lose control

SLEEPER AGENT OF KINK

you think he's all soft neck kisses and hand-holding

then he's tugging your hair, love bites on your shoulder

and growling in your ear, "you like that, don't you?"

his hands, his mouth, and his cock alternate between gentle and rough to keep you on edge <3

the moans he'll let out would be so loud and unrestrained

completely enamored with your body

big fan of overstimulation

thrives on praise

eager to learn as well!!

positions where he can see everything—your expressions, your body, the way you react to his touch—drive him wild

not afraid to try something new!

and when it's all over, he's right back to his soft and sweet self

kissing your forehead and pulling you into his arms like he wasn't doing unspeakable things to you five minutes ago.

The dorm was quiet, just the gentle hum of the mini fridge and the occasional squeak of Kyle's mechanical pencil scratching across the page, his emerald eyes narrowed in focus. Outside, snow swirled in flurries past the narrow dorm window, turning the campus into a pale blur. But inside… inside, it was all heat. The warmth of his body pressed close to yours, the subtle scent of his cologne—cedarwood and fresh laundry—and the way his thigh brushed against yours with every breath, every tiny movement.

You sat cross-legged on his twin bed, the physics textbook propped open between you two like a barrier you were pretending to care about. Your pencil hovered uselessly above the worksheet, your eyes on the graph in front of you, but your mind somewhere far more sinful. Somewhere between the slope of Kyle’s jaw and the curve of his mouth, the subtle twitch of his fingers as he flipped pages, his quiet humming as he read low and familiar.

And utterly distracting.

You didn’t mean to stare. God, you really didn’t. But it was impossible not to.

Kyle had taken off his hoodie earlier. It had gotten too hot in the room he said, and now he was just in a tight, slightly wrinkled long sleeve shirt that hugged his frame in all the right ways. You could see the subtle movement of muscle under cotton when he shifted his weight, the way the fabric stretched a little across his chest. But worseso much worse—were his hands. Long fingers, pale knuckles, veins like subtle rivers running just beneath the surface. Hands that gestured when he explained concepts, hands that moved with ease and confidence. You’d seen him fidgeting with the string on his hoodie earlier, wrapping it around a finger, then tugging. And the thought of what else those fingers could do if they weren’t wrapped around a pencil made your thighs press together under the covers of your oversized sweatshirt.

You forced your eyes back to the page. Focus. Focus on the damn question.

A ball is launched at an angle of 30 degrees with an initial velocity of 12 m/s—

Nope. Your brain short-circuited. You couldn’t read past “ball.” Your cheeks flushed so hot it made your ears burn.

“You okay?” Kyle’s voice broke the silence, soft and amused, too sweet for someone so evil without knowing it.

You looked up too quickly and nearly headbutted him. His face was right there, closer than you thought. His hair was fluffed up from where he’d been running his hand through it in frustration a few minutes ago, his lips parted in that slight, thoughtful frown he got when he was trying to explain something tricky. His freckled cheeks were pink from the warmth of the room, or maybe from being so close to you. He didn’t lean back. He just tilted his head and looked at you like you were a puzzle more interesting than anything in the textbook.

Your heart lurched.

“Y-yeah,” you managed, voice strained, eyes darting back to the worksheet. “Just… thinking.”

Kyle smiled, soft and fond. “Thinking is good. But not if you’re thinking about dinner already. We haven’t even finished projectile motion.”

You let out a breathy laugh, trying not to seem too shaky. “Yeah, sorry. I just… I suck at this.”

“No, you don’t,” he said quickly, eyebrows furrowing like you’d insulted him. “You’re doing great. Seriously. You’ve gotten, like, three questions right without my help.”

You gave him a look. “Out of twenty.”

He scoffed, leaning a little closer, and you swore his knee pressed more firmly into yours. “That’s three more than last week. I think you’re doing amazing.”

Your breath caught. He was too close, too kind, too pretty. And he didn’t even know how much it was messing you up.

“You’re a really good teacher,” you said, softer now, fingers twisting the edge of your sleeve.

He smiled again, and it was a little shy this time. “Thanks. I like helping you.”

His eyes lingered a beat too long on yours before he looked away, clearing his throat and picking up his pencil. “Okay—so for this one, let’s try it together. If the velocity is 12 m/s and the angle is 30 degrees, what’s the horizontal component of the velocity?”

You nodded, trying desperately to switch your brain back to math mode. “Um… twelve times cosine thirty?”

“Yeah!” Kyle’s voice lit up with praise, and he gave your arm a little nudge with his elbow. “Exactly. That’s awesome.”

The contact made your stomach twist. You wished you could bottle that feeling. His casual warmth, his excitement when you got it right, the way his whole face lit up. You wanted to bury your face in his chest and just stay there, right under the collar of his shirt where his scent was strongest.

But you didn’t. You stayed perfectly still. Because if you moved too much, you might accidentally kiss him.

Or worse. You might tell him what you really wanted.

And what you wanted wasn’t physics. What you wanted was his mouth on your neck, his hands under your shirt, his breath warm against your skin as he murmured something low and sweet. You wanted to ask him to touch you. You wanted to ask if he ever noticed how quiet you got when he leaned in, how tense your thighs went when his fingers brushed yours.

But you were too shy. Still. After months of dating, you’d barely worked up the courage to tell him when you were cold, let alone horny.

Your eyes dropped again to his hands. They were tapping lightly against the notebook now, rhythmically. He always did that when he was thinking; drumming with two fingers. And you could feel the movement through the mattress, through your leg, through your whole damn body. You shifted slightly, hoping the friction between your thighs didn’t make you too obvious.

Kyle looked up again. “You’re squirmy today.”

You blinked. “What?”

His eyes narrowed, but he was smiling. Teasing. “You keep fidgeting. Is it the chair? My bed sucks, I know. You want to move to the floor?”

You shook your head quickly, way too fast. “No! I mean—no, I’m fine. Just kinda… distracted.”

He tilted his head. “By what?”

You stared at him, pulse skipping. He didn’t even know. He was just looking at you like he always did, with that easy confidence, that kindness that melted all your walls. You wanted to say you. You wanted to say your stupid adorable face and your stupid perfect hands and the way you say my name when I get something right—

But you swallowed it all down and muttered, “I dunno. Just tired.”

He didn’t believe you. You could tell. But he didn’t push. Instead, he gave you a crooked little smile and said, “You want a break?”

You nodded, maybe a little too fast.

“Okay,” he said, tossing the pencil onto the notebook and flopping back on the bed beside you, arms stretched out above his head, shirt riding up slightly to reveal a strip of pale stomach and the soft V of his hips. “Five-minute break. Doctor’s orders.”

You were going to die. Right here. Right on Kyle Broflovski’s bed, while he was looking all relaxed and soft and delicious beside you.

And then he turned his head toward you and said your name.

You looked at him, eyes wide.

“You sure you’re okay?”

The way he said it… low, a little rough around the edges, like he knew. Like he’d seen through you. Like maybe you weren’t as subtle as you thought, staring at his hands and squeezing your thighs together like a fucking pervert.

Yet his eyes were kind. Curious. Patient.

You nodded again, but he didn’t look convinced. He lifted a hand, brushed his fingers over your knee, light as air. “Hey. Talk to me.”

The touch made your skin spark, electricity shooting up your leg. You inhaled sharply, heart pounding so hard you were sure he could hear it.

“I—” your voice cracked. “I just… I can’t focus.”

Kyle propped himself up on one elbow, gaze suddenly sharp. “Why not?”

You swallowed thickly, the heat in your cheeks blooming like wildfire beneath your skin. Your heart pounded loud enough in your chest that it almost drowned out your own thoughts. He was looking at you with that kind of piercing, unwavering attention that made it impossible to breathe right. You couldn’t tell him. You weren’t ready for him to know that you’d spent the last forty-five minutes fantasizing about his fingers slipping under your waistband instead of solving for v₀.

Your gaze dropped, fingers tugging at the hem of your oversized sweater as you lied through your teeth. “I’m still embarrassed you have to tutor me,” you said, forcing the words out with a weak laugh that didn’t sound even remotely convincing. “It just… sucks. Knowing you’re so good at this and I’m… not.”

The silence that followed wasn’t judgmental. It wasn’t heavy or cruel. It was warm. Soft. Thoughtful in the way Kyle always was with you. Still, you didn’t dare meet his eyes, too afraid he’d see the cracks in your lie, the truth bubbling just beneath the surface of your skin.

Kyle sat up fully, his hand moving with sudden certainty as he reached out and wrapped his fingers gently around your wrist. His touch was firm without being rough, grounding, his thumb brushing lightly along the inside of your arm. He held your wrist like it was precious, like he wanted to pull your words straight from your pulse.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he said, his voice quiet but unwavering. He wasn’t teasing. There was no smirk, no sarcastic edge to his tone. He was sincere. Sincere in that painfully tender way he always was when it came to you. “Needing help doesn’t make you dumb. Everyone struggles with something, babe.”

Your chest ached at the nickname. He didn’t use pet names often, not unless he meant them. They felt rare, like little gifts—like he knew exactly when you needed to hear one.

“Babe,” he repeated, his tone softening even further, as though he could sense the hesitation still curling in your gut. “I like helping you. I like being close to you like this. I like that you trust me enough to let me in, even if you’re still scared to look me in the eye when I say you’re smart.”

You let out a nervous giggle, more from the sheer flood of emotions than anything. It escaped before you could bite it back, and your fingers tightened instinctively around the fabric of your sleeve.

Kyle smiled.

God, that smile. That wide, lopsided grin that lit up his whole face and crinkled the corners of his eyes. It hit you like a truck every time. His hold on your wrist tightened, not hard, just enough to jolt you from your thoughts, and he gave it a gentle tug.

Before you could react, he pulled you forward, easing you off the bed with a casual strength that always surprised you. He guided you until you found yourself sitting in his lap.

Your thighs were pressed against his, the denim of his jeans warm beneath you. His hands settled at your waist without hesitation, fingers splaying against your sides as if he’d done this a hundred times before. The proximity stole the air from your lungs. Your body stiffened at first. Your brain trying to catch up with the fact that Kyle Broflovski just pulled you into his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You didn’t say anything. Didn’t dare ruin the moment with your awkward nerves.

His arms were a loose cage around you, heat radiating off his chest as he shifted slightly to grab the textbook and your stationery off the mattress behind you. The movement pressed your body tighter against his, and you caught the soft huff of his breath as his lips nearly brushed your temple.

“Five minutes is up,” he said, clearing his throat in that clipped, academic tone he used when trying to sound professional, even though his voice was a little rougher now, a little more breathy. “Let’s get back to projectile motion.”

He opened the textbook across one knee, flipping back to the page you’d both been working on earlier, the paper rustling loudly in the otherwise quiet room. You could barely hear it over the pounding of your heart. His fingers brushed yours as he handed you your mechanical pencil. 

Your legs were draped over his, your knees tucked snugly along the sides of his thighs. The position was close—too close—and you didn’t miss the subtle way his breathing had changed since pulling you into his lap. He wasn’t unaffected. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back, the tension tightening in his arms, the way his voice wavered slightly when he spoke again.

“Okay,” he said, his finger tracing under the next problem, dragging your attention to the question as best he could. “You remember how to break velocity into components?”

You nodded, but it was automatic. Your brain wasn’t even pretending to function right now. All your focus was on the way his thumb rubbed small, unconscious circles against your hip. You weren’t sure he even realized he was doing it.

“Cosine for horizontal,” you murmured, eyes flicking toward the page for the briefest second before returning to the slope of his neck, the faint pink flush crawling along his jawline.

Kyle nodded approvingly. “Good. And sine for vertical. So if we’re launching at 12 meters per second—”

You didn’t hear the rest. You couldn’t. His voice was a low hum in your ear, soothing and slow, but your body was vibrating with tension. His hand at your waist had started moving again, slow strokes that burned through your sweatshirt, the kind of touch that left you dizzy and aching for more.

Your thighs clenched where they pressed against his, involuntarily. You didn’t mean to do it; the tension simply spilled over, tightening through you in a desperate ripple of heat. Kyle’s hand froze the instant he felt it. A soft, startled pause, the kind that came with his brain firing off too many thoughts at once.

You went rigid.

“S–Sorry,” you blurted, the word tangled and breathless. You shifted quickly, folding your legs into a cross‑legged position in his lap, trying to pretend the movement was innocent. Your hands fumbled for your calculator like it was some kind of shield. “I just—I need to finish the next one.”

Kyle didn’t comment. Not on the way your voice shook. Not on the way your cheeks burned. He just sat behind you, steady, silent, warm. Letting you scramble to re‑establish some normalcy.

You typed in the values, double-checked the trig function, tried to remember how to breathe normally. When you finished, you quietly murmured, “Okay. I think… I think that’s it.”

Kyle leaned forward to look. His breath brushed your shoulder—light, absentminded, way too intimate for someone who was supposedly focused on math. His eyes scanned the numbers, and he nodded.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “That’s right.”

The pride in his voice hit harder than the numbers ever could. Before you could react, he pressed a tiny, fleeting kiss to the side of your neck. A spontaneous, affectionate spark he didn’t seem to think twice about.

Heat shot through you.

“Kyle,” you squeaked, half laughing, half flustered beyond sanity. You tried to squirm away, nudging his knee with yours. “Stop—that’s—that’s enough studying for today.”

His hands came up, circling your waist automatically when you shifted. He held you gently in place, not trapping, just steadying.

“No way,” he said with a small, breathy laugh of his own. “We only have like… four more questions. You’ll thank me when you pass the exam.”

“Kyle, I’m tired,” you lied, cheeks flaming.

His fingers stilled against your waist.

“You’re not tired,” he replied quietly.

Your breath hitched. You didn’t look at him; you couldn’t. Kyle’s voice wasn’t teasing. It wasn’t accusing. It was soft. Knowing. Gentle in a way that made your stomach twist.

“You’re distracted,” he added, even softer.

You swallowed hard. “I’m trying.”

“I know.” His hand slid up a little, fingertips brushing the hem of your sweater. “I can help with that too.”

Your heart stumbled.

Kyle adjusted you in his lap, carefully, almost nervously, making sure you were still comfortable. His hands stayed respectful, thumbs rubbing tiny circles at your sides like a quiet reassurance.

“Okay,” he murmured, leaning forward to pull the textbook into view again. “Come here. I’m not… stopping the lesson. We’re doing the lesson.”

His voice wavered, just faintly.

He tipped the book against your knees, flipping to the next problem. His other hand drifted slowly beneath your sweater, sliding along the warm skin of your stomach, just above your waistband.

“You still have to work through these,” he said gently, grounding you with the steady cadence of his tutoring voice. “We’re not quitting early.”

You shivered as his fingers slipped beneath the band of your underwear, slow and careful, giving you a chance to pull away.

You didn’t.

Kyle took a quiet breath, a thin shaky inhale he clearly didn’t mean to let you hear. His fingertips traced lower, brushing through the heat between your legs with a reverence that made your breath catch.

“You’re gonna finish these last problems,” he whispered, more flustered than seductive, his lips close enough to brush your cheek when he spoke. “I’m just… helping you focus.”

Your hips jerked at the first slow, tentative stroke of his finger. Kyle froze for a split second, checking your face, checking your body language, making sure this was okay. When your breath stuttered but you didn’t pull away, his shoulders loosened and he stroked you again—deeper, steadier, more sure of himself.

“You remember the formula for total time of flight, right?” His voice cracked on the last word. He cleared his throat. “Right?”

You couldn’t think. Not with his finger sliding slowly, gently, through the slick warmth he found there. Not with his other arm wrapped around your waist, holding you anchored against his chest.

“Kyle,” you whispered, breath shaking.

“You can do both,” he murmured, kissing your cheek in a shy, fluttering press. “You’re smart enough. I know you are. So…” His finger circled your clit, and your whole body tensed. “Tell me the equation.”

You shook your head helplessly. “I can’t—”

His breath hitched, like hearing you like that did something to him.

“You can,” he whispered again, his voice soft against your ear, words melting into the quiet hum of the dorm room like they belonged there. “Just try.”

You nodded, the movement almost imperceptible, but Kyle felt it. His curls tickled your jaw where his head rested against your shoulder, and his breath came warm, brushing the collar of your sweater. His hand didn’t stop, didn’t falter for even a second, fingers still moving between your thighs with maddening patience, knuckles pressing in and out of your pussy like he wasn’t methodically unraveling you from the inside out.

Your voice cracked on the first word.

“T—Total time…” you tried, your breath catching when his thumb slid up and made a slow, lazy pass over your clit. Your whole body jolted. “Is two v-naught s-sine theta over… g…”

Kyle smiled against your skin. You couldn’t see it, but you could feel it, his cheek lifting against your neck, that subtle shift in his jaw as his fingers curled slightly inside your cunt, stroking deep, intentional, right up against the soft spot that made your thighs clench.

“That’s it,” he murmured, voice hushed, like he was impressed and couldn’t help but say so. “God, you’re still going. That’s so impressive.”

You squirmed in his lap, trying to keep your grip on the edge of the notebook, trying to act like you weren’t falling apart one inch at a time. Every slow drag of his fingers made you wetter, your folds slick and swollen, spreading around each stroke like your body wanted more, wanted all of him.

“You’re really trying to be good for me, huh?” he added, the words soft, teasing, and tinged with a crooked smile. “You wanna pass so bad you’re gonna sit here and recite formulas while I’ve got two fingers deep inside your—”

You whimpered, sharp and involuntary, and Kyle laughed under his breath, gentle and warm.

“Okay, okay,” he said quickly, catching himself. “I’ll stop talking. Kinda. Maybe.”

His thumb circled again, featherlight pressure over your clit, and the ragged breath you let out nearly made him lose it.

“You remember how to find the vertical component?” he asked, tone softening again, like he was walking you through a concept instead of working you closer to the edge. “Horizontal’s cosine. What’s vertical?”

You blinked hard, struggling to force the words out through the burn building low in your stomach. “V–v-naught times… sine theta.”

His hand stilled, just for a breath, and he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, slow and warm.

“You’re killing it,” he whispered. “Seriously.”

His fingers resumed again, slow at first, the pads of them dragging slick through your entrance and pressing back inside—hot, tight, pulsing around him. He curled them shallowly, feeling the way your cunt clenched around him, like you couldn’t help it.

“You’re so tense,” he murmured, lips brushing the curve of your neck. “You’re holding your breath.”

You hadn’t realized. Not until he said it, and suddenly your lungs felt starved, your chest aching from how hard you were trying to keep quiet.

“Breathe, babe. Just… take it slow. I’m not rushing you.” Kyle murmured, his voice calm. That Kyle kind of calm—almost clinical in its precision, but still so full of care. The kind of calm he used when he helped you with tests, when he explained difficult problems like they weren’t scary, when he sat with you through long nights of frustration and just… stayed. That same voice, now applied to this moment, to your trembling body in his lap, made your heart ache. 

His thumb brushed your clit again, rhythmic now, gently working in tight, teasing circles. His fingers stayed buried, stroking in and out of your pussy with that slow, patient pressure that had you grinding into his lap without meaning to.

“I like this,” he said suddenly, quiet like a secret. “You. Trying so hard. It’s… cute.”

Your face burned, heat flooding your chest. “Kyle—”

“I mean it,” he said, shifting slightly behind you. His thighs spread a little wider under yours, steadying you. “You’re really… god, you’re smart. You’re trying so hard. And you’re still letting me touch you.” 

His tone turned shy halfway through the sentence, like he almost couldn’t believe he said it. But he didn’t pull back. He leaned into your neck, nuzzling just under your ear.

“I didn’t think you’d let me do this,” he admitted, voice dropping just a little. “I always thought if I tried something like this, you’d throw a pillow at my face and call me an asshole.”

You let out a shaky laugh, breath catching as his fingers pushed a little deeper again, the heel of his palm dragging against your clit just right. “I… might still.”

Kyle chuckled, kissing your neck. “Guess I’ll have to make it worth it.”

The way he said it wasn’t cocky. It was honest. A promise.

His fingers moved again, more deliberate now, but still slow, like he had all the time in the world to watch you come undone. You shifted in his lap, body shaking slightly, and he adjusted with you, his free arm tightening around your waist, holding you close without pinning you.

His voice stayed steady, even as his breath turned uneven. “Want me to stop?”

You shook your head, too quickly.

Kyle’s lips brushed your jaw, a smile pressed into your skin. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

Your hips rocked again, chasing his hand. He let you, guiding the movement with the hand at your waist, holding you just firm enough to keep you grounded. His fingers curled up inside you on each thrust now—gentle, focused—pressing into your g-spot with practiced intention, the rhythm deep and slow and maddening.

“You’re so warm,” he whispered. “You feel so good.”

You heard the awe in his voice, like it was slipping out without him meaning to. His thumb stayed steady on your clit, pressing with just the right amount of pressure, drawing out slow, desperate little gasps you couldn’t hide.

“You wanna come, don’t you?”

You nodded, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Yeah?” His voice was breathier now. “Okay. Okay…

His fingers picked up their pace just slightly—circling, dragging, pressing exactly where you needed it, and your whole body jerked. You tried to stay quiet. You really did. But a high, broken sound slipped out of you, and Kyle swore under his breath, voice tight. 

“God, that’s… yeah. That’s really hot.” 

You rocked forward once, twice, trying to bite down the sounds building in your throat. Kyle held you still, murmuring low praise against your ear. You weren’t even sure what he was saying anymore, just the hum of his voice and the slow, steady motion of his hand. 

When it hit, it didn’t crash. It bloomed, slow and warm, a spreading wave of heat that made your whole body tremble in his lap. Your hips jerked once, twice, and Kyle’s hand didn’t leave you. He stayed with you through it, holding you gently, rubbing slow circles through the aftershocks.

You were shaking, breath coming in quiet, uneven gasps. 

Kyle didn’t speak at first. He just held you, one hand pressed to your stomach, the other still tucked between your legs, now still and reverent. His cheek rested against your shoulder again, curls tickling your neck. 

After a long moment, he whispered, “You okay?”

You nodded, the world spinning gently.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered. “Like. Seriously.”

You managed a laugh. “You’re such a nerd.”

“Says the person who just came during projectile motion.”

You smacked his arm with what little strength you had, and he laughed, that same bright, nasal chuckle that always made you smile no matter how much of a mess you were.

He kissed your neck again, one last time, sweet and lingering.

“Hey,” he said, quieter now. “You really are doing better at this stuff. I’m proud of you.” 

Your eyes burned a little at the edges again, for an entirely different reason.

“I mean it,” he said, giving your waist a squeeze. “You always try. That’s one of my favorite things about you.”

You turned slightly in his arms, enough to see the soft look in his eyes, so familiar, so open. 

He leaned in and kissed you on the mouth this time—slow, like everything else. No urgency. Just affection. Just Kyle.

And when he pulled back, hand still on your thigh, thumb rubbing softly over the hem of your shorts, he added, “We’ll finish the rest tomorrow.”

He smiled again, lopsided and gentle. 

“You’ve earned a break.”

“Count.”

His words left no room for argument, so you took a breath. Kyle’s hand came down hard on your ass. You gasped and writhed, but Kyle kept you firmly in place.

“One,” you said, voice shaking some.

“Good girl. Keep going.” Kyle said as he rubbed your ass before hitting again.

He got to fifteen. You were sobbing and trembling as you whimpered out the number.

“Shh, shh,” Kyle cooed as he soothingly rubbed your ass. “See? Good girl. You know why I had to do that, don’t you?”

His words were softly spoken and sweet. A direct contrast to the previous actions he’d made.

You sniffled and nodded. You did know. It’s why you’d been such a brat all day anyway - you wanted his attention. No matter what that meant.

“I don’t really know that you’ve really learned anything though,” Kyle clicked his tongue. “For all I know, you’ll just do this again the minute I stop touching you.”

His hand snaked down the curve of your ass and between your delicate folds, fingers probing at your cunt. He dipped two fingers inside you and began to gently rub them against your spot. His fingers were long, nimble, and they felt fucking fantastic.

Fantastic to the point that you whimpered when he pulled his fingers out of you, coated in your juices. You moaned as you watched him suck his fingers clean.

And then, he pulled you off his lap and onto the bed. He pulled his own pants down and lined himself up with your entrance.

“Stay fuckin’ still, alright?” Kyle cursed as he pushed into you. Even through your lusty haze, you could tell he was still irritated with you for your brattiness.

You let out a broken moan as he pushed into you slowly, then began rocking his hips into you.

“God, you’re so tight,” Kyle groaned, “you’d be so perfect if you weren’t such a little brat.”

You whined softly as Kyle used your body, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“God, See?” Kyle panted. “You can be such a good girl, yeah? All tight and wet. Just for me, huh, princess?”

You moaned at his words and nodded swiftly. “Jus’ for you,” You managed to say between moans, feeling your walls starting to flutter.

Kyle shook his head and nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. “Don’t,” he whispered his warning. “Not ‘til I say you can. I don’t think you’ve earned it yet.”

You whine desperately, but you nodded. And Kyle grinned, knowing he’d forced you back into submission. Back into his sweet, darling little angel that would listen to every word that fell from his lips.

You were so tense with the effort of trying to hold back your orgasm, you genuinely thought you might explode into teeny tiny little pieces.

And Kyle’s movements became more desperate and erratic.

If you were able to think about anything other than keeping your pleasure at bay, you would have known that Kyle was close. You would have known that he was moments away from painting your inner walls a milky white.

Kyle pushed his lips against your ear, his breath warm against your skin. They graze your skin, sending shivers up and down your spine, and you swore he was trying to kill you with the way he nipped at you.

“Sweetheart,” Kyle breathed. You could feel him grinning against your ear, and you felt like you were going insane with need and desperation. “I think you’ve earned it. Don’t you? You’re being so good and sweet for me.” 

You gasped, but you still held off. Waiting for Kyle to actually say the words.

And say them, he did. 

“Cum for me,” He nipped at your earlobe. “Come on, princess. Cum for me. You’ve earned it. Come on, baby.”

You swore to whatever god might fucking be out there, you blacked out.

Your orgasm was intense. You dragged your nails down Kyle’s back, sure to leave bright red marks for at least a few days. You practically screamed, chanting his name like it was a prayer to the only thing that mattered in that moment: him.

As your hole fluttered and clenched around him, it milked Kyle’s orgasm out of him. He came inside you with a deep groan, and he wrapped his arms around your torso, yanking you closer as he pulsed, filling you up with hot and sticky cum.

You both laid like that for a few minutes, catching your breath and coming back to yourselves.

Kyle pulled out of you with a groan and smiled as he cradled your cheeks in his hands.

“You are fucking perfect. C’mon, shower.”

Kyle couldn't sleep.

He regretted letting Cartman and his family stay over at his house because now he can clearly hear him and his wife fuck. The ginger groaned, covering his ears with his hands as the noises got louder.

He looked over at F/N and groaned. The day after F/N had gotten home, Cartman came over and asked to stay since he had nowhere else to stay, and Kyle felt bad.

"I'm sorry," Kyle apologised, clearly embarrassed. F/N just laughed softly and shook her head.

"It's ok, Kyle."

The two stared at each other for a moment before an idea popped in their heads:

"Let's fuck back!"

"Let's kick him out"

They both stared at each other before Kyle cleared his throat, "Y-Yeah, your idea is better," Kyle muttered.

F/N grinned and leaned forward, straddling Kyle's lap, "Anything to annoy the fuck out of Cartman." Kyle felt his heart melt at her vengeance towards Cartman.

His hands moved down to F/N's waist, rubbing up and down softly before looking into her eyes, "God, I can't wait for Cartman to get pissed."

Kyle leaned forward and kissed F/N's lips softly, indulging in the taste before moving his hands underneath her shirt, rubbing her stomach softly before pulling her shirt just over her tits.

"Nice... no bra."

"Kyle. Women don't usually sleep with bras on anyway."

"Oh."

He looked away with a small frown for a second before looking back up at F/N. The woman grinned and kissed Kyle's neck, leaving small marks all over his neck.

"Ooh, that's really fucking good," Kyle moaned out, he leaned his head back in pleasure, but was interrupted hearing Cartman moan loudly in the other room. Kyle frowned and felt turned off, "SHUT THE FUCK UP CARTMAN!" Kyle shouted.

F/N laughed at Kyle's small outburst which made him even more annoyed. The ginger frowned and grabbed F/N, he pushed her down onto her back and basically tore off her pyjama pants and panties.

"K-Kyle!"

He just snorted, he leaned down and breathed heavily on F/N's cunt, making her whine out. His tongue licked a long stripe on her pussy before full on making-out with it.

F/N gripped the pillows behind her, letting out an extremely loud moan to make Cartman jealous, "Oh my God, Kyle!" F/N whined out, she bit her lip, moving a hand to Kyle's soft curls. Kyle felt more confident, one hand was circling her clit and the other pulling and rolling her nipple.

"Fffhu- fuck fuck FUCK!" F/N whined out.

Cartman could hear them and he was getting pissed.

Kyle moved away from her cunt and got up, still rubbing her clit with his thumb, "Gotta have you now, doll," Kyle groaned out. He used one hand to pull his pants now, revealing a small wet spot at the front of his boxers, then he pulled that down too.

His hand gripped his cock before grabbing F/N's thigh with his other hand, slowly sliding inside of her cunt.

The two whined out at the feeling, F/N enjoyed the stretch.

After a minute, F/N gave a nod to Kyle and he started to move his hips. The feeling was so overstimulating, but they both didn't care.

"Mmphh- fucking hell, F/N-" Kyle moaned out, his pace was getting faster now. He grabbed F/N's legs, resting them on his shoulders so that he could fuck into her deeper.

F/N was exaggerating her moans so much as this point, but neither of them cared.

"You're so good, Kyle!" F/N cried out, "I love you I love you!~"

Kyle shot her a look back, full of pride and happiness as he fucked her roughly, making the couch croak and growl. "Yeah you like this fucking cock? Such a good fucking girl."

F/N's moans were high-pitched, she could already feel herself orgasming but sadly, it was ruined when Cartman came in the room.

His face was bright red and he had his pyjamas messily put back on. "Ok you guys I get it! I'm very sorry," Cartman apologised, he has a small frown as he saw Kyle's shit-eating smirk.

"Did I interrupt something, Cartman?"