South Park Oneshots

You're Mine - Style

Tw: drinking, throwing up, smut, anal, handjobs, biting, scratching (slight blood mention), degrading, very mild sub/dom dynamics, soft dom Kyle
!!NOT CONNECTED TO "A DISTRACTION"!!

Requested by: @Pissly

Stan sighed softly, his trembling hands reaching for the bottle of Smirnoff resting on his nightstand. He wasn't sure why he was drinking again; he wasn't experiencing anything emotionally distressing, aside from Kyle canceling another plan. He couldn't grasp why that was so upsetting.

This is the third time. Stan sniffled, drinking down another swig of alcohol from the mostly empty bottle. Why was Kyle avoiding him? What did he do wrong? He missed his super best friend horribly. They hadn't had time to see each other in months, and it was beginning to take a toll on Stan's health. He hadn't showered in days, his hair a greasy mess, and he was running out of clean clothes to wear, too exhausted to bother with laundry.

"That fucking dick!" He sobbed. He couldn't help it. The only person he had in his corner was running away from him, leaving him completely alone.

He grabbed the bottle and threw it at his door with as much force as he could put behind it- which was a lot, by the way-, watching the glass shatter against the scarred wood. A few pieces flew back at him and nicked his face, but he didn't notice. The alcohol was beginning to numb his senses; finally. He could barely see in front of him; between the tears and the Smirnoff, he wasn't sure which was blinding him worse.

There was a thumping sound, causing him to grunt in annoyance. He'd be pissed if those teenagers were throwing eggs at his house again. He laid down and covered his head with his pillow to drown out the noise, his ears beginning to ring and give him a headache.

The thumping didn't go away. It progressed into banging, and eventually Stan picked up on a voice. It sounded so wonderfully familiar, convincing him to get out of bed. He stared at the glass on the floor and frowned, dancing around the shards to open his bedroom door. He walked down the hallway and to the front door, struggling to walk straight. He drank too much.

"Stan, I swear to God this is the last time I'll ask. Open this door or I'll break it down!" The voice screamed, so Stan tried to walk faster. He stumbled over his shoes and tripped, landing against the door. He cursed freely for a moment, then opened the door. His horrible headache went away the moment he saw all the poofy red hair, his depressed state being replaced with overwhelming joy.

"Kyle!" He cried, jumping for his super best friend. They both went down, landing on the cement porch.

"Fuck, my ass!" Kyle yelled, but his voice held that giggly tone Stan was obsessed with.

"Kyleee!" Stan cheered.

"Yeah dude, I'm here. You stink." Kyle commented, poking Stan's hair with mild disgust.

"I know. I need to clean up a bunch of shit." The raveonette looked up and pouted. Kyle chuckled, then narrowed his eyes. Stan frowned, knowing what he was going to say.

"You've been drinking, huh?" Stan nodded. He was never good at hiding when he'd taken a drink, especially when it came to Kyle.

"Alright, come on." Kyle stood and helped Stan to his feet, then walked him to the couch. He made sure the taller male sat down, then made a beeline for the bedroom. Stan behaved and stayed on the couch, grabbing an empty bucket he kept nearby.

Kyle internally gagged when he caught sight of Stan's room and sighed. He began to clean, collecting the dirty laundry in a basket and grabbing a broom to get the glass out of the floor. Once he finished, he grabbed the full basket and carried it to the washing machine, and started the laundry.