I know het smut fics aren't particular popular in this fandom, but I thought of this idea while in the middle of writing a still unfinished K2 smutty one-shot. I liked the idea, so here it is.

"Stan, we've already talked about this. So many times that I can't even remember anymore."

"But Wendy, I don't see why you needed to break up with me! Again! For the, like, billionth time!"

Wendy sighed and rubbed her temples. This was not the place to get into this again. They were standing in the middle of Craig's living room, surrounded by everyone they knew from school, and their voices were mostly drowned out by the loud music that was playing. Craig had decided to throw one last kickass summer party before everyone either went off to college, the military, or the work force. Real life had crept up on them all surprisingly quickly, so he'd decided that responsibility and adulthood suck balls, so they might as well all get really fucking dumb one last time.

Wendy took a deep breath before responding. "Four is not a billion, Stan. Also the first three times were all back in elementary school, so…whatever, that's not what's important here. Will you please step outside with me so I can explain this to you for the umpteenth time?"

"No! Whatever you need to say to me, you can say in front of all of my friends!" Stan waved his arms in the air, motioning to everyone around them. No one was actually paying any attention to their conversation.

"Jesus, you're already drunk. Oh god, why do I have to be the responsible one in this class?" she groaned to her self. "Stan, like I said before, I decided to take a gap year and join the Peace Corps. I've told you since sophomore year that I want to become more active in the causes I care about once I graduate, and this is me starting that goal. I leave for Guatemala next week. Do you really want our last week together to be like this?"

"Fuck Guatemala! Why do they need your help? You're so selfish, Wendy! I bet you're going down there just to bang all the hot Guatemalan guys there! You fucking whore!" Stan pointed at Wendy in anger, paused, and then began to cry. "Wendy, don't leave me! Why can't we try a long distance relationship?"

Wendy's left eye began to twitch slightly. It was a tic that she had developed some time in high school, and it only happened when she was holding herself back from lashing out at someone's stupidity. "I originally tried asking you if you were interested in trying that, but you told me that long distance relationships were quote, for pussies." She made air quotes around the final two words.

"I take it back! It's not for pussies! Let's do it!" His glossy eyes lit up with a flicker of hope.

She sadly sighed. "I originally asked that thinking that I was going to have internet access where I'm volunteering, but I'm going to be in a small remote village and probably won't have cell or web service. I'm sorry Stan, I love you, but we're going to have to be broken up. At least for a while. And if we're really meant to be…" She cupped his flushed cheeks in her hands and gave him a gentle kiss on the mouth. "…then I know we'll find each other again." She smiled and moved her hands down to hold his own. "Now can we please enjoy Craig's party and each other's company so that we don't end our time together on this shitty note?"

Stan smiled back at his girlfriend, until he realized that in a week, she'd be his ex-girlfriend. His smile broke into a snarl and his slapped her hands away. "No! Noooo! You selfish fucking whore! Enjoy your Guatemalan STDs, bitch!" He stormed off to go find his friends, leaving Wendy standing alone, face firmly in palm.

Stan searched through the crowded living room for either Kyle, Kenny, or Cartman. Any one of them would do. Kyle would be the voice of reason, calming him down and telling him life was going to continue on and he was going to be okay. Kenny would pat him on the shoulder and then be his wingman, helping him find the drunkest girl there for rebound sex. Cartman would remind him that he'd told Stan for years that Wendy was a dumb bitch and it would let him fuel his anger high that he was totally buzzing on right now.

He spotted Kyle first, standing alone off to the side and looking awfully forlorn. That's fine. They could both be miserable together.

"Hey Kyle, Wendy's a bitch, can I talk to you?"

Kyle stood still, seemingly staring right through Stan.

"Dude…K…Kyle?" He put his hand on his best friend's shoulder.

Kyle suddenly snapped out of whatever trance he had been in. "Huh? Oh, it's you Stan. What's up?"

"What was that all about?!"

"What was what about?"

"You staring out into the middle distance like that!"

"Huh? Oh…it's nothing. I was just, uh, thinking about something. So what's going on? Are you having fun?"

"Having fun? Fuck no! Wendy just broke up with me!" Stan exclaimed.

"Uh…yeah…she's leaving for the Peace Corps on Thursday. Everyone knows that. You know that. What did you expect, to have a long distance relationship via pen pal?"

"Well, no, but can't you see I'm in pain?!"

"Look Stan, I don't really have the mental energy to deal with your fucking whining right now. We just went through this three days ago. I have other things on my mind right now. I just want to relax and have fun tonight. Please go bitch to someone else."

Kyle carefully pushed past Stan and made his way into the kitchen.

"Fuck you, Kyle!"

Cartman exited the kitchen, brushing past Kyle as he went by. He heard Stan yelling out and joined in through a mouthful of chips. "Yeah fuck you, Kyle, you fucking Jew!" He moved up to stand next to his raven haired friend. "So why are we fucking Kyle this time?"

"He blew me off and said he didn't want to listen to my whining tonight."

"What are you whining about?"

"Wendy broke up with me," Stan said quietly as he began to slip from anger to sadness again.

"Nope."

Cartman turned on his heel and walked off toward some other students.

"Goddammit, Cartman!"

Stan frantically looked around the room, finally spotting orange with some messy blond hair in the corner of the room. He dodged through people until he got closer and saw that Kenny was currently making out with Bebe in the shadows, and it looked like he was on his way to second base.

"Hey Kenny, I-!"

He was interrupted by his friend's middle finger waving over his head. He had more important things to do than listen to Stan's drunken rantings. He broke away from Bebe's mouth and moved down to her neck, mumbling against her skin. "Read the room, Stanley."

"Fuck!"

Stan stormed off toward the kitchen, pissed off that all three of his best friends were assholes who couldn't take the time to listen to his problems. He approached the kitchen table that was covered in snacks and booze. "All of them," he muttered as he picked up a jello shot. "They're all selfish whores!" He slurped down the jello and continued to mutter to himself, causing the few people standing around the table to slowly move away from him.

He downed two more jello shots and then grabbed a can of beer from the fridge. As he cracked it open, his mood suddenly shifted once again from anger to sadness. Stan felt tears beginning to come on and he was too inebriated to hold them back. He glanced at the sliding glass door that led to the Tucker's backyard. It was ajar. Not wanting anyone to see him cry, he quickly slipped out through the door as the tears began to stream down his face.

He sniffled in between sips of beer, with the occasional soft sob escaping his lips. He stood there for some time, feeling like he was alone in the world. Feeling like nothing mattered. Feeling like love was a pointless emotion because it only ended in pain.

"Let me guess…she broke up with you again."

Stan almost dropped his beer in shock when the voice came seemingly out of nowhere. He spun around looking for the source. He saw thin wisps of smoke curling up into the air and the fiery orange glow of a cigarette. As his eyes finally adjusted to the darkness outside, he saw Henrietta Biggle sitting against the house. She took a long drag from her cigarette holder and slowly blew it out into the cool night air.

"Hey…Raven." She made a point to emphasize Stan's short-lived goth name from almost a decade earlier.

"Henrietta?" Stan asked, wiping tears from his face. "What the fuck are you doing here? You've never hung out with any of us before."

"Yeah…I know. Normally I wouldn't be caught dead here, but…Craig actually invited me."

"What?! I never knew that! How the hell do you know Craig?"

"You don't know everything about everyone, asshole. But if you really want to be a townie conformist bitch and pry, Craig and I met once when we snuck out of detention together. He…seemed kind of cool. Even though he's a conformist, he gives as few fucks as I do. Michael, Firkle, and Pete don't know I'm here…and if you ever fucking tell them I was, I will gut you and sacrifice your innards to Cthulhu."

"I would never dream of it."

They existed in awkward silence for a few minutes before Henrietta spoke up.

"So…do you wanna take a drag?" She held out her cigarette holder, offering it to Stan.

"Yes," he answered without hesitation.

He sat down next to the curvy teen and took the long, slender holder between his lips, inhaling deeply. He managed to hold back the urge to cough as he exhaled the smoke. He smiled and offered Henrietta his beer can. She smirked back and took it from his hand. He figured it was the alcohol and frustration messing with his mind, but he swore that her fingers gently stroked his hand before she grasped the can.

They sat with each other, swapping the beer and cigarette between each other, and talking about the pain of life and love. It felt great to vent his frustrations to someone and to have them genuinely listen to him. Stan began to feel extremely relaxed in her presence, and he adjusted himself so that he was lying down with his head in her lap. He briefly thought that she was going to kick his ass for acting so familiar, but she didn't. Rather, she removed his hat and began to stroke his soft black hair. It felt comforting.

It felt so comforting that he began to forget about how upset and hurt he was at Wendy…and he began to forget yet again that she had broken up with him. He looked up at Henrietta, and through the beer goggles, darkness, and smoke, she kinda looked a bit like Wendy. His impulse got the best of him and he reached up to take her face in his hands. He pulled her down toward him and pressed his lips against hers. It was only a moment before he opened is eyes and pulled back, embarrassed.

"Oh my god, I'm sorry! I…that was…I thought you were…" He covered his flushing face with his hands.

"No retard, I'm not Wendy. But it's fine. I don't care." She moved his hands from his face and kissed him again. She felt his lips relax against hers as he kissed her back. "Wanna go somewhere and fuck?" she mumbled against his lips.

"What?!" he exclaimed, pulling away. "You would…? With me…? Just like that…? What?!"

Henrietta laughed and smirked. "Yeah, why not? Love and all that fucking romcom crap sucks, but sex is fun." She bit her bottom lip and raised an eyebrow. "Why do you think I only hang out with guys?"

Stan's eyes widened as he watched her take another long drag from her cigarette holder, finishing off the butt.

"But why would you ever want to have sex with me? Aren't I a conformist jock?"

"Well…yeah, obviously. But…" She took a small sip of beer. "…I'm buzzed and I have a thing for your lame jock arms. I admit that I've checked you out a few times while smoking with the guys under the bleachers." She put the beer can down in the grass and ran a hand through her hair. "So? Do you wanna?" she asked.

Stan hesitated. Did he really want to go through with this? It wasn't every day that he got propositioned for sex, and Henrietta was pretty cute. But he'd be cheating on Wendy, so…wait, she broke up with him for some Guatemalan douchebag, right? So fuck her!

"Yeah. Let's do this."

They picked themselves off the ground and snuck back into Craig's kitchen. Henrietta took Stan by the wrist and led him through the crowded house and up the stairs. Stan looked frantically around the room, wondering if anyone noticed them going upstairs together. He spotted Kenny staring at him and giving him the thumbs up. That pervert. He was probably going to ask for details later - wait, who's hair was that in his lap? Before he could get a better look, Henrietta pulled him into an empty room by the neck of his shirt.

The door slammed shut behind him and he barely had a moment to look around the room before Henrietta's mouth was back on his. Stan was taken aback by how rough she was, biting on his lip and pushing her tongue into his mouth way earlier than anticipated. He was more used to a slower build-up of intensity when making out. He placed his hands on her thick hips and tried to pull her closer to him, but she was already busy working on undoing his pants.

"Oh, it's like that, is it?" he muttered. She simply responded with a mhmm before pulling his pants and boxers down around his ankles.

She sunk down onto her knees and took his semi-hard cock into her mouth. Her tongue began to work deftly, swirling around the head. She took one of her hands and began to gently glide her black painted nails along the insides of his thigh.

"Holy shit," Stan whispered, feeling himself growing inside her mouth.

This certainly wasn't his first time getting a blowjob, but this was the first time he had received one with such…gusto. He looked down at Henrietta, her lips pressed against his pelvis, and he felt his cock twitch. Henrietta soon moved both of her hands behind him and grabbed his ass, digging her nails into the firm flesh. She began to moan around him, using her hands to pull him deeper into her mouth. It was like she was hungry, starving for his dick.

He felt his balls tighten, moving closer to his body. The tension in his groin was building, and way too fast. "H-hey," he stuttered. He grabbed a fistful of Henrietta's hair and tugged. She looked up into his blue eyes and slipped her mouth off of his cock, a thin strand of saliva trailing between the tip and her full purple-painted lips. He let out a shuddered breath. He was shocked at how sexy she looked.

"What?" she asked, looking a bit miffed.

"I was like thirty seconds from cumming. I needed you to stop. You're, like, way too good at that."

She chuckled softly to herself while standing up. "Thank you. I've had a lot of practice."

Henrietta began to remove her dress, letting it fall to the floor. Underneath, she was wearing a black lace bra and panty set and thigh-high fishnet stockings. It was a lot more feminine than he would have imagined she'd be wearing, but it looked amazing on her. She made a beeline for the neatly made bed, which Stan assumed belonged to Craig's parents. She took a seat on the edge and snapped her fingers at him.

"Shirt. Off." She bit her finger as his athletic build was completely revealed in front of her. "Fuck me. I really hate myself right now for being so turned on by your stupid jock ass, but damn." She curled her index finger, beckoning him to come join her.

He crawled up on top of her and began to work her neck, his lips brushing against the soft skin. Small gasps left her throat whenever his teeth accidentally scraped against her.

"Do you like that?" he asked.

"Yes, more. More teeth."

He began to leave small bite marks in his wake as he trailed his mouth down her body, over her collarbone and between her full breasts. When he reached her panties, he hesitated.

"Can I go down on you?" he asked, finger running along the hem.

"Uh, yeah, you'd be an asshole if you didn't."

He pulled them off fast and rough, hearing a ripping sound as he did. "Oh shit, whoops."

"Whatever, don't worry about it. Just hurry up and make me cum already. Trust me, it won't take much."

He looked up at her from between her legs and watched as she palmed her tits through her bra. He slowly trailed his tongue along her slit, grinning when her hips bucked at the slightest amount of stimulation. He pushed his tongue in deeper, swirling and flicking around her clit. He began to use the old trick of tracing out the lowercase alphabet and he had just reached the letter H when she suddenly grabbed at the bedsheets and her thighs began to tremble. He finished a few more letters while she rode out her orgasm. He eventually pulled back and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, climbing back up on top of her flushed body.

"Told you," she smirked.

He smiled back. "That definitely made me feel pretty fucking awesome. I would've expected you to make more noise though."

"Nah, I've never really made a lot of noise during sex. But I orgasm really easily, so I'd say that's a pretty sweet compromise."

"I'll fucking take it." He ground his erection against her inner thigh, eager to get inside.

Henrietta pulled a condom out of her bra and tore the package with her teeth. She handed it off to her current partner, who carefully rolled it on. He rubbed the tip of his cock between her swollen lips before pushing inside her pussy. She was so warm, and surprisingly tight. He began to thrust slowly at first, picking up the pace when he felt her nails scratch down his sides.

He leaned down and roughly kissed her, his hands by her shoulders, digging into the mattress. She thread her fingers through his hair and gripped onto as much as she could. She pulled back sharply, breaking the kiss, and exposing his own neck so she could devour the flesh. He moaned out much louder than he would've expected when she bit down on his ear lobe and tugged hard with her teeth.

His thrusts went deep and managed to hit the right spots, causing her to squirm underneath him. Her breathing became faster, heavier. She moved her hands from his hair and down his back, clawing at him so hard that Stan assumed he'd have still have marks the next day. He could tell she was getting close again.

"Choke me," she moaned breathily.

"What?!"

"Choke me." She repeated herself with assertion.

"No! I don't want to hurt you."

"That's the fucking point. I get off on the pain. Now choke me, you little bitch."

She slapped Stan across the face. He looked shocked, but continued to refuse. She slapped him again, even harder.

"Come on, you fucking pussy."

She grabbed at his face with her hand, doing whatever she could to get him to give her what she wanted.

"Grab my fucking throat!"

Three consecutive smacks to the face was what finally made him snap. He wrapped his long fingers around her throat and squeezed, his face scrunched up in anger. Her eyes widened and her mouth hung open with faint whimpers emanating from her throat. Once Stan saw her face, his own softened and he began to panic.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry!"

Henrietta quickly put her own hand around his, silently telling him to leave it there. Her head soon tilted back and her body tightened. He could feel her pussy tighten around him as she came, and the new pressure was too much. It was only a few moments before he came himself with a few final unsteady thrusts. He stared down at her and noticed how oddly blissful she looked with his hand still around her throat. He slowly released his grasp, pulled out of her, and rolled over to the side, letting the condom slip out of his fingers and onto the floor. The sounds of their breathing returning to normal was the only thing breaking the stillness of the room.

"That was…different," he said after a few minutes.

"Bad?"

"No. It actually felt really good to let out some of that angry energy."

Henrietta laughed softly. "I'm glad. It certainly worked out for me, too."

Henrietta climbed off the bed and fished out a cigarette and lighter from a secret pocket in her dress. She lit up and took a drag, sighing in satisfaction. She flicked on the bedroom light, causing Stan to block his eyes from the sudden brightness. Glancing in a mirror on the wall, she smiled and touched her throat.

"Mmm," she happily moaned. "Good work. It looks like it's going to bruise quite nicely. I'm going to have to wear a leather choker for a while to hide it from the guys. Usually they're the only ones who mark me like this."

She put her clothes back on, then turned around to look at Stan. He was still lying on the bed, looking half passed out. "Hey, retard, you'll probably want to put your preppy clothes back on." She picked up his shirt and pants and flung it onto his bare body.

Stan reluctantly got up and began to get dressed. "So…uh…we should probably never speak of this again, yeah?"

Henrietta contemplated for a moment in silence. She reached down to pick up Stan's phone off the floor before speaking. "To other people, definitely. Unless you want to wake up with your tongue cut out of your mouth." She tapped quickly on the phone and tossed it back to him. "But hit me up if you ever want to throw down again, pretty boy."

She covered her mouth, holding back a dry heave. "Ugh, I sound like a Gap-wearing poser douche. I gotta go before I turn into one of you." She opened the door and stepped out into the hall. Henrietta paused for a moment and peeked her head back inside the room. "Um…I hope you feel a little better now. I know you'll make it through this…Stan."

He was briefly stunned by the kind words. His face melted into a smile. "Thanks."