miah

8teen. Black. certified gojo glazer

[achillesinhighheels]

[kentogetsmewetter]

POWER TRIP

⋆｡°✩Genre: childhood best friend connie x black fem reader

⋆｡°✩Synopsis: you and connie grew up together in brooklyn. growing up, you two were inseparable until you went across the country for college. you two went from talking every day to just “happy holidays” texts. you go back on his block for a block party, surrounded by nostalgia, you run into him again, and this time, you two admit to all the things you wanted to say to each other all those years ago.

⋆｡°✩Contents: plot with smut, connie's lowk a yearner, pnv, unprotected sex, face riding, nipple play, edging, slight over stim, pet names (mama, love, baby), praise, soft dom con, passionate sex, multiple orgasms, squirting, dirty talk, aftercare

⋆｡°✩A/N: they r tew cute n corny, this was supposed to be released last summer, but I procrastinate too much, so enjoy 😛

It was a warm summer evening in Brooklyn. Summer in the four boroughs meant one thing, block parties.

The smell of people grilling was in the air, mixed with the sound of loud music, and the chatter of neighbors catching up like they hadn’t seen each other in years, even though they probably had just yesterday.

You and your homegirl were on your way to one right now, walking through streets that were lit by the glow of the sun and the signs of corner stores.

This wasn’t just any part of Brooklyn, though. This was the block where your childhood best friend, Connie, grew up. Everything came rushing back to you the minute your sneakers touched the ground. You could almost see younger versions of yourselves running through these streets, laughing until your stomachs hurt, and dreaming of what life would be like when you got older.

But life had a way of pulling people in different directions. You and Connie had grown apart, though not in a crazy way. It just happened.

When the time came to choose a college, you packed up and moved to the other side of the country. Leaving New York had been your dream for as long as you could remember. You hated this city. It was suffocating.  But you knew you couldn't leave forever.

You had craved something different, you wanted to experience a new place for the time being, New York was your home, and you couldn't imagine leaving forever, someone  something kept you from leaving forever. 

Still, walking through this part of the neighborhood again, the memories felt bittersweet. You glanced at your friend, who was busy scrolling through her phone. You wondered if Connie would be there tonight. 

You and Connie had practically grown up as a package deal. From the time you were kids, you two had been inseparable, doing everything together, playing tag at the park, riding bikes until the streetlights turned on, and spending late nights talking about your dreams for the future.

You went to the same elementary, middle, and high school, growing up side by side. Connie had always been the loud, funny one who could make anyone laugh, while you balanced him out, being the quieter and more mature of the two.

You two were inseparable until you left, California just wasn't another borough, it was all the way on the other side of the country, a 6-hour flight. 

At first, you and Connie tried to keep in touch. You’d text every day, call each other to catch up, and even FaceTimed a few times to make things feel like old times. But as the weeks turned into months, you two texted and called less and less. 

Life got in the way. Your new school needed your full attention, you were on scholarship, and you had to make sure you didn't mess up your chances, and Connie had his own life back in Brooklyn.

Slowly but surely, the calls turned into missed ones, and before you knew it, the connection you’d once had disappeared.

You didn’t mean for it to happen, it just did. Now, walking through his old block on the way to this party, you couldn’t help but wonder if he thought about you as much as you thought about him.

You wanted to text him and tell him you were back in Brooklyn, but you felt it would just be awkward. So if you saw him, you saw him.

You knew you were almost there when you heard the sound of old-school hip hop. The songs bring back memories of when you and Connie would run around these same streets as kids.

That brought a smile to your face, but it also made you realize just how long it had been since you’d last experienced a night like this.

Even though you hadn’t been around much in recent years, you had a feeling Connie’s parents and grandparents would want to see you. They’d always treated you like family, and they still remembered the little girl who used to play in their yard.

The thought of reconnecting with them made your heart feel warm. You weren’t sure how'd they react, but you knew it would make you feel a lot of things.

As you rounded the corner, you spotted the police cars blocking off the street as y'all reached the heart of the block party, the notes of "Big Poppa" playing in the background, even through the music, you could hear the laughter and chatter in the air. Being back in Brooklyn, you felt carefree, warm, and alive with the energy of summer.

There was a burst of colors and sounds. There were bouncy castles on one end of the street, and the sun made them shine as kids jumped around in them. There was a cotton candy stand next to it, and kids played with pink and blue cotton candy in their hands. Some kids ran back and forth on the street playing tag, while other kids rode their bikes and scooters.

There was an open fire hydrant, where kids were filling up water balloons to throw at each other. The smell of meat cooking on the grill and the smell of fresh corn roasting over the fire mixed together.

As you looked around, you saw familiar faces, some from your childhood, others you hadn’t seen in years. People were sitting on their stoops, enjoying the warmth, talking with friends and family. The older generation was lighting up cigarettes and cigars. Laughter rang out from all directions.

Everything about this moment, the sounds, the smells, made you feel like you’d never truly left. It was home in a way that no other city could compare.

The laughter, the music. It was yours in a way that only someone who had spent their childhood running through these streets could understand.

But there was something bittersweet about it, too. As much as you loved being here, you couldn't deny that things had changed over time. Brooklyn had changed over the years. The streets now had cafés, luxury apartments, and people who didn’t carry the same history with them.

But this small part of the borough still felt like home. The people and the corner stores were all still there. You couldn't help but feel proud of that, as if this part of Brooklyn belonged to you.

It was comforting, knowing that, despite everything changing around it, this place, this community, still held on. For now, it felt like the Brooklyn you remembered.

You knew that the first thing you had to do was get to Connie's family's brownstone because you were on his old block. You couldn't let them see you first. It just felt right to say hi to them first. As you walked toward the orangy-brown building, memories flooded back. 

You had spent so many afternoons here, sitting on their stoop, eating snacks with Connie’s mom while she rambled on in her Dominican accent. Her house was a second home to you.

As you approached the steps, you spotted a familiar figure through the open door. Before you could even say anything, Connie’s mom was already on her feet, her eyes lighting up as soon as she saw you. “Mi hija!” she called out with that same loving tone she had used when you were a kid. She pulled you into a tight hug.

It was like getting a hug from your mother, it made you feel the kind of warmth that only a second mother could give. The smell of her was the same, the spices and lavender you remembered, the smell of her home never changed.

As she pulled back, her face was glowing with excitement, her eyes scanning your face as if trying to pick up on every little detail. “Where have you been? How is college?” she asked quickly, her questions tumbling out as she held you at arm's length, her hands still resting on your shoulders.

You chuckled softly at her rapid-fire questions, ease washing over you. “I’m doing good, Mom. College is good,” you smile.

She smiled brightly, her face lighting up as if hearing those words was enough to reassure her that everything was alright. You could see the happiness in her eyes, like she’d always known you’d make it, no matter how far you’d gone from Brooklyn. "I'm so glad to hear that, mi hija," she says, pulling you back into a hug once more. "You know you're always welcome here. Never forget that."

While you were enjoying Connie's mom's hug, a burst of energy ran toward you, and before you could even react, Connie’s younger siblings were there.

His little sister wrapped her tiny arms around your legs, her grip tight as she looked up at you with a wide grin. "I’ve missed you so much!"

And before you could even bend down to respond, Connie’s younger brother, always the more reserved of the two, stepped forward and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“We’ve missed you.” The feeling was mutual. You missed them all, but especially his younger siblings, who seemed to have grown up so much since you last saw them.

You pulled them both into a tight group hug. “You guys have gotten so big,” you said, ruffling his little brother’s hair while your hand rested on the younger sister’s head. “I’ve missed y'all, too. So much.” 

You barely had time to react before you heard the voice of Connie’s grandmother, "Ahh, you’ve made me get up out my chair now!" her eyes sparkling as she stood up from the rocking chair on the porch. With a warm smile, she pulled you into a big, tight hug, just like she always had when you were younger. 

"I’ve missed you so much," she squeezed you just a little tighter before pulling back to get a good look at you. Then went to pull out her phone.

You laughed, already knowing exactly how this would go, one of those moments where older people tried to figure out how to take a picture. You stayed smiling at the phone the whole time, even though it took a long time for her to get the shot.

Finally, after what seemed like a million attempts, she finally got a picture. “Ohh, I’ve missed you,” clicking the phone off. You laughed, shaking your head. “Now, where is that boy Connie.” She sat back down in her chair, shaking her head. 

You made your way over to the grill. There, standing behind the grill, was Connie's uncle.

He looked up when you approached, a sly grin spreading across his face.” Wassuppp unc,” you called out, fighting back a smile. Connie’s uncle stood by the grill, wearing an oversized white tee and basketball shorts, a rag slung over his shoulder.

“Ohhh, look who pulled up. You came to eat, or you just here to harass me?” He raised an eyebrow, always ready for a little back-and-forth.

“Now y’know imma need a plate,” you teased, crossing your arms as you leaned lightly against the grill.

He shot you a look, “Trust me, I know.”

You gave him a quick side-eye,” Wowww it’s like dat? Crazy.” 

“Y'know I'm jus playing witchu, c’mere.” laughing as he stepped closer to you. Then, before you could say another word, he wrapped you into a tight hug, lifting you slightly off your feet with a laugh.

"It’s good to see you, unc.” you said lightly as your feet planted back on the ground.

He pulled back just enough to look you up and down, his eyes happy. “Good to see you, too. Don’t you worry, you’ll get your plate soon enough,” he said, turning back to the grill. “I gotchu covered, always.”

You smiled. Connie’s family was your family, and no matter where life took you, they’d always have a place in your heart and vice versa. 

“Wassguddd,” you called out, a grin spreading across your face, making your way through the familiar faces. One by one, you made your rounds dapping up each one of them. Armin greeted you with his usual soft smile, lighting up his face. “Long time no see,” his voice warm as you made your way over to eren.

 “Yooo, look who finally decided to show up,” he teased. He pulled you in for a quick hug, clapping your back with mad force, letting you know he’d missed you.

"Damn nigga." You chuckled, pulling away. 

Jean next, stepping forward with that signature smirk already in place. He leaned in his hand, gripping your shoulder firmly as he pulled you in. "You know I’ve been waiting for you to show up," he pulled back, the corners of his lips twitching. "Things never feel the same without you around."

Before you could respond, Sasha nearly bounced into your arms. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you’re here!” Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around you in a quick but tight hug. Pulling back, she beamed at you.

Last but not least was Mikasa. She approached with a small but genuine smile, pulling you into a quick hug. “It’s good to see you again,” she said simply.

You took a moment to look around, expecting to see Connie’s familiar face in the group, but there was still no sign of him. “Where Connie at?” you asked casually, your face scrunched up slightly from the sun beaming into your eye.

Eren shrugged lazily, leaning back, taking a slow sip from the red cup in his hand. “He’s around here somewhere,” the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk. “Y’know, how he is.”

You chuckled softly at Eren’s playful remark, shaking your head cause this was very connie-like. But as the minutes ticked by without any sign of Connie, you decided to quietly slip away, going back toward the brownstone where Connie’s family had been.

You watched everyone around you, hearing the sound of laughter, music, and people talking.

Yet, in this moment, you felt distant. You let out a slow breath, leaning back slightly as your eyes moved across the street, scanning for that one person you’d been hoping to see.

You heard the sound of small feet running toward you. Looking up, your gaze landed on Connie's sister. Her curly pigtails bounced with every step. In her hands was a small notebook, the pages slightly crinkled from all the use. She clutched it tightly to her chest, making sure you couldn't see it before she showed you.

Her bright eyes locked on yours as she ran up the steps, nearly tripping on the last one, but she caught herself just in time.“I made something for you!” She plopped down beside you.

Her body leaning slightly toward you as she extended the notebook with both hands.“Oh, you did, huh? What is it?” You watched her small hands flip through the notebook’s crinkled pages. Her fingers, smudged with leftover crayon and marker.

“Look!” She looked up at you, her grin even wider now, revealing a missing front tooth. Your eyes fell on the drawing, the picture was of you, her, and Connie with different crayons.

In the center of the page, she had drawn herself with her signature ponytails, her hands held up in a peace sign, and her smile so big. To her left was you with your favorite hoodie and your favorite pair of sneakers, your arms wrapped around her.

And then there was Connie, standing on her other side. She’d drawn him tall, his smirk stretched across his face with a beanie covering his buzzcut. Connie’s hand was resting lightly on her shoulder, but his other hand was extended slightly toward you. Above his head, she’d drawn tiny pink hearts, scattered across the page

“This is all of us,” her eyes glistening. “Me, you, and Connie! And look, Connie’s looking at you like this.” She scrunched her nose and gave her best impression of a lovesick puppy, giggling as she pointed to the hearts above his head.

Your checks warmed up as you glanced at the drawing again, this time catching the little details you’d missed before. Connie’s figure was slightly closer to yours than hers.

You took the notebook gently from her small hands. “Wowww,” you said, “This looks so good. You did great!”

She giggled softly, leaning into your side, her head coming to rest gently against your arm. “Thanks,” she said quietly.

After a pause, she glanced up at you. “Do you think Connie’s gonna come today?” You shifted slightly to get more comfortable, your eyes moving from the notebook in your lap to her.

“I hope so,” you replied, wiping some of the small strands of her hair out of her face. “I’ve been waiting for him, too.” She let out a small hum of agreement, her eyelids drooping slightly as she cuddled closer. Her tiny fingers toying with the edge of your shirt.

“Do you think when we see him, we can all play together? Like we used to?” Her wide eyes looked up at you. You couldn’t help but smile, your heart filled with love for the little girl who had grown up right in front of your eyes.

"Yea." You pulled her in closer. “We can do that.”

"Promise?" You stuck your pinky finger out to her as her smaller one wrapped around yours.

"Promise." You made sure to press your thumbs together.

“Ma, I swear, I'm not even that late!" You heard that one voice that you would recognize anywhere. You and his little sister turned simultaneously, your heads snapping toward his voice.

There he was, slightly hunched as he tried to dodge his grandmother’s playful hits. She was scolding him, though the laughter in her voice made it clear she was just messing around.

“That’s him! That’s him!” his little sister squealed. She jumped up from the steps so quickly that it startled you, grabbing your hand and pulling you along with her.

You couldn’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm as she tugged you forward, her little legs moving as fast as they could. Her grip was strong for someone so small.

When she finally reached him, she let go of your hand and launched herself toward him, her arms stretching wide. Connie caught her, spinning her around.

As you slowed your steps, excitement in your chest grew stronger. Seeing him now, the smile on his face is so familiar. He looked really good, handsome. 

Connie stood there, the sunlight framing his face as he walked up, his sister to the side of him. He wore a plain gray tee, the fabric snug across his shoulders and chest, the shirt having a few faint wrinkles. Dark green cargo pants sat low on his hips, giving a pop of color to the outfit, and they bunched slightly around his ankles, where you saw his black cats. A black Yankees beanie rested on his head, covering his overgrown buzzcut.

The sunlight hit his skin just right, giving it a warm glow from the faint sweat on his skin from the heat, with freckles dotted on his cheeks and nose.

But it was his eyes that got you the most, as they always did, hazel green mixed with gold that seemed to shift depending on how the light hit them. Today, the sun brought out the gold, making them glint in the sunlight.

Every detail of him was so distinctly Connie, from the slight tilt of his head when he laughed to the relaxed way he carried himself. He looked exactly how you remembered; every detail of him seemed to hit you over again, making your chest tighten, but the strongest one was the one being that he felt like home, you couldn't have been back home without him.

He then looked up, his eyes landing on you, and for a moment, the noise around you seemed to fade. “Yooo.” Your lips curved into the biggest smile, one you couldn’t fight back even if you tried. The rush of emotions hit you all at once, your steps quickened, closing the last bit of distance between you, practically launching yourself into his open arms. 

“I missed you, Con,” your voice muffled against his chest as your arms wrapped tightly around him. He caught you with a laugh. He spun you around, the scent of weed and his favorite cologne filled your nostrils, just that scent alone was able to trigger so many memories in your mind.

"Naaa, you ain't' miss me, you went hollywood." He teased as he gently set you back on your feet, his hands lingering for just a moment longer.

“Nuh uh, that was all you.” You shot back as you playfully hit his arm. 

He tilted his head slightly, his grin stretching wider as if he didn't believe you. “Mhm, sure,” You rolled your eyes at his words.

“Whatever, bro,” you cross your arms, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Y’know I’m just playing witchu,” he said smoothly, his voice dropping an octave. The way the words rolled off his tongue made your breath hitch, trying to fight back a smile while his gaze was steady on yours as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip, a small smirk going across his face.

Before you could reply, his fingers wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you in closer for another hug, though his hands settled a little lower than you had expected, sending a wave of warmth throughout your body.

“I missed you too,” his voice quieter this time, while you felt the warmth of his breath brushing against your ear. Something about the way he said it, like he needed you to know.

You felt yourself melt into the hug, your fingers brushing against the soft fabric of his shirt. His grip tightened just slightly, his chin brushing the top of your head as he held you there.

He held you so tightly, it felt like nothing else mattered, just the two of you in this moment.

You couldn’t see it, but Connie’s family stood a few steps away, their faces lit with knowing smiles. His grandmother nudged his mom lightly with her elbow, leaning in to whisper something that made them both chuckle quietly.

His younger siblings exchange words about him, finally confessing, but his brother says something like he's too scared. They all knew it wasn’t a secret to them. Connie had been in love with you since the day you two first met, and they’d been rooting for him ever since.

To everyone else, the signs were obvious the way Connie’s eyes always softened when he looked at you, his grin grew wider whenever you were near, the way his voice dropped just a little whenever he spoke to you.

And you. The way you lit up when he was around. It was like the rest of the world could see the invisible thread tying the two of you together, pulling you closer, except for the two of you. 

It wasn’t just the way you two looked at each other, it was in every small interaction, the way the air around you seemed thicker whenever you were together.

To everyone watching, it wasn’t a matter of if but when. They could see it so clearly, two people hopelessly, obliviously in love. And here they were, hoping that this was the moment when you both finally realized what everyone else had known all along.

But it wasn’t. The moment passed as you both pulled away, though the warmth of his arms still stayed. Connie cleared his throat. “You gotta tell me how college life’s been,” he said, slinging his arm over your shoulders.

As you walked back toward the grill, the scent of food hit you, “Wassup, my boy,” his uncle called as he extended his hand, dapping Connie up.

“What’s good?” Connie replied. His Uncle didn’t respond right away. Instead, he pushed his sunglasses down to the bridge of his nose, letting his eyes peek over as he looked past Connie.

His face broke into a sly smile as he nodded in your direction. “Ight na look whose back.” 

"Yea, i've been starving," Connie's uncle smacked his teeth loudly, rolling his eyes.

"Yea yea, you just got here bout 30 minutes ago,” he shoke his head, making you laugh. "But thank you for commin' out tho, it's nice to see you."

You shrugged your shoulders at his comment. They were family to you, and you were gonna be there whether Connie was there or not. “You know I couldn’t miss this."

Connie's uncle quickly interrupted you with a laugh that made his whole body shake. “Mmhmm, couldn’t miss this, or couldn’t miss him?” He jabbed the spatula in Connie’s direction, his grin stretching wider as Connie immediately groaned in annoyance.

"Here he go," Connie's shoulders slumping slightly as he turned away for a second. Connie's uncle was wagging the spatula for emphasis.

“Nah, don’t ‘here he go’ me, boy. “I seen the way you was lookin’ at her earlier, actin’ all cool. You ain’t foolin’ nobody.”

“You done yet?” Connie asked, the corner of his mouth twitched like he was trying not to laugh, but the way his eyes flickered toward you gave away the truth that he wasn’t really mad.

“Nah, I’m just gettin’ started," adjusting the Yankees cap backward on his head. He gestured with his spatula to add more emphasis, “Lemme tell you somethin’. I been watchin’ this boy try to impress you since he was rockin’ them little light-up sneakers thinkin’ he was fresh as hell."

Connie groaned, dragging a hand down his face as you burst into laughter. “You doing too much." His uncle pointed the spatula at you now, his grin widening as he locked eyes with you.

"You remember that time he fell out that tree tryin’ to get you that dumb lil’ flower? The one you said was your favorite, even though you ain’t really care like that?”

Your eyes widened as the memory came rushing back, and a laugh escaped before you could stop it. “Oh my God, I forgot about that. The flower wasn’t even that cute.” 

You could see the tips of Connie's ears turing red as he tried to act like he didn't care about the words being thrown at him, “Had that boy riskin’ life and limb for a weed.”

By now, Connie’s grandmother had shuffled over, hearing the end of the story, and started cackling, her laugh infectious. "He got halfway up the tree, lost his grip, and came tumblin’ down like Humpty Dumpty. Had him limpin’ for two weeks after that!” She added, “Had me running out with ointment and bandages." Everyone but Connie was laughing even tho he had a small curve to his lips while he was trying to fight back a laugh. 

“And don’t even get me started on how he-” Connie's uncle began, ready to tell another embarrassing moment about Connie, but Connie cut him off with a louder voice, trying to drown out whatever story was about to say

“Chillll, you actin' mad, fed right now.” Despite his protest, a laugh broke through, ruining his attempt to sound serious.

Connie's grandmother couldn't help but roll her eyes at his choice of words." Boy, please. You just don’t want us exposin’ you."

Connie shot her a playful glare before running a hand over his face, clearly trying to suppress his own laughter. “Y’all got jokes today, huh?” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

But his uncle wouldnt let up. He pointed the spatula at Connie, his grin never leaving. “Nah, but for real,” He gestured between the two of you, his spatula emphasizing every word. “I been watchin’ you two since y’all was kids, and let me tell you, ain’t nobody else puttin’ up with yo' goofy ass like she does.”

You felt your cheeks warm up as his family's eyes turned towards you. Connie glanced at you, too, his grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, though he quickly looked away.

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice for dramatic effect, though it was loud enough for everyone to hear. “If you don’t lock it down, boy, imma have to start callin’ you a damn fool. And trust me, that name gon’ stick.”

Connie groaned loudly, throwing his head back dramatically, “We just friends, Unc.”

His uncle barked out a laugh, slapping his knee for emphasis. “Yea, ight, you a fool, and I heard that one before,” he said, pointing the spatula at Connie. “You know who else said the same thing? Me. And now look at me, thirty years deep with my ol' lady."

Connie let out a short laugh, shaking his head as he glanced at you briefly. His grandma chimed in then. “Listen to your uncle, baby. He’s makin’ sense for once in his life.”

The entire group burst into laughter, the sound rolling through like music. You couldn’t help but laugh too, despite the way your heart was racing. You glanced at Connie, catching his eye for just a moment before you looked away again.“Yea, yea. Let’s get you some food before they come up with more material.” 

“Yea yea my ass get her, her food before I call her mama and tell her you slackin’. Don’t play with me, boy.” He gave Connie a look, the corners of his mouth twitching with a grin.

Connie shook his head with a quiet chuckle, his hand dragging over his face. He stepped around the table, grabbing a plate from the stack. “Man, y’all are somethin’ else,” 

He turned toward you, his hazel eyes catching yours for a beat longer than necessary. Then, just as casually, he threw in a wink. “You better make sure my plate looks good, or I might actually have to call my mama.”

Connie paused mid-scoop, while he glanced sideways at you. “Oh, y’know I gotchu, don’t trip,” 

You finally had your plate in hand, piled high with Chicharrón, some Arroz con Gandules, and sweet Fritos Maduros. The smell was so good you couldn’t wait to stuff your face.

Sitting into one of the classic white plastic chairs, you let out a satisfied sigh. Connie plopped down beside you, his own plate just as full. Soon, only the sounds for a moment were the crunch of the chicharrón and music.

“College been stressful,” you said between bites, the fork in your hand pausing briefly as you glanced over at him. “But it’s fun. I’ve met a lot of new people and done lots of new things."

Connie nodded as he chewed, his hazel eyes flicking to you. He swallowed quickly, leaning back in his chair with a casual ease, his plate balanced on his lap.

"You been talkin’ to anyone?” Connie asked casually, but the way he leaned forward slightly and glanced at you out of the corner of his eye showed how curious he really was.

You let out a laugh, shaking your head as you set your fork down on the edge of your plate. “Boyuhh,” your eyebrows lifting giving him a look.

“What?” Connie said, feigning innocence as he shrugged, his lips going into a smirk. “I can’t ask questions?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the grin tugging at your lips. “No, I ain’t been talkin' no one,” you admitted, taking another bite out of your food.

Connie leaned back in his chair, bucking his hips to get more comfortable. He nodded slowly. “Mmhm, good,” the corners of his lips curving into a smirk. 

You glanced at him quickly, trying to figure out if he was being serious or if he was just messing with you. “Stop playin’,” your head dropping down to avoid his gaze, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “Whatchu mean, ‘good’?”

Connie shrugged, his smirk turning into a full grin. “I’m just sayin’. It’s good to know,” he casually replied, but the way his eyes lingered on you made it feel anything but casual.

“You so corny,” you bit back a smile as you tried to act all unbothered.

His eyes never left you as he leaned in, pulling your chair closer to him, the smirk never leaving his lips. “Corny, huh?” His arms folded across his chest, clearly enjoying the way you were trying to hide the smile creeping onto your face.

You looked down at the food on your plate, fiddling with your fork. “Yea,” the words coming out quieter than you intended, biting your bottom lip.

But Connie, chuckled under his breath, the sound deep as he was clearly satisfied with your reaction. “Mmhm,”

Connie leaned in closer, his eyes locking onto yours as he drummed his fingers lightly on the edge of your chair. “You callin’ me corny, but look at you over there,” a smile on his lips. “Tryin’ mad hard not to smile.”

You rolled your eyes at his comment, your fingers fiddling with the edge of your plate. “Ain’t nobody tryin’ anything,” wanting him to shift the attention off yourself, you blurted out, “How has life been back in Brooklyn?”

Connie tilted his head as he caught onto your attempt to change the topic. “Ahhh, not you tryna change the subject,” he laughed softly. He leaned back a little,” Brooklyn’s been, Brooklyn.” 

"But foreal tho,” Connie’s voice dipped low, pulling your attention entirely to him. "I like you like this."

His eyes lingered on yours, your face scrunched slightly, “Like what?” you asked, your voice softer than you intended.

Without breaking eye contact, his hand moved, reaching out to rest gently on your knee. The touch was so casual, yet you felt your body warm. “Here,” His thumb began to move, brushing soft circles against your skin. “Wit' me.”

You blinked with a small smile going across your face slowly, all you could do was sit there as his fingers continued their movement against your skin. It felt like time had slowed down, the world around you fading as you were locked in that moment, just the two of you. 

Connie leaned back, warm fingers leaving your thighs, shifting his weight onto one arm as he let his gaze rest on you, a sly smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His free hand tapping his thigh, “Ight, but lemme letchu finish your food before you start sayin’ I’m distracting you too much,” 

You let out a dramatic sigh, shoulders rising and falling. Tilting your plate toward him, you showed him most of your untouched food. “You already did, con,” you whined, your lower lip turning into a playful pout.

Connie raised a brow, fingers brushing over the faint stubble along his jaw. He leaned in slightly, resting both elbows on his knees, hands clasped together, his hazel-green eyes narrowing playfully. “Oh? So it’s my fault now?”

“I mean,” You began, as your fingers held your plate to the side, “Let me ask the audience.” You turned your head to the side, pretending to look into the imaginary camera. 

Connie let out a low chuckle, his shoulders shaking slightly as he leaned back, the smirk still playing at his lips. “Man, whatever,” He shifted in his chair, leaning in just enough for his knee to brush lightly against yours.

“You done yet?” His smirk deepened as he cocked his head, his voice dipping just a little lower. “Or you gon’ keep tryna flirt with me so you don’t gotta get up?”

You couldn’t help but laugh hard in his face." You mad, delusional, shaking your head as you straightened up.

“Yea, ight,” Connie replied, pushing himself up in one smooth motion. He stretched lazily, arms reaching high, making his shirt ride up just enough to reveal a glimpse of his happy trail and the lines of his lower abs.

The stretch lasted only a second before his arms dropped back to his sides. He extended a hand toward you, tilting his head slightly, eyes gleaming, “C’mon,” he drawled. “Let’s go do something before you start blaming me for you being bored, too.”

"I could never be bored with you, Con," you said, a warm smile spreading across your face, as you reached out to take his hand.

The moment your fingers touched, Connie gave a slight tug, maybe a little harder than he meant to, pulling your head straight into his chest. Wrapping his arms around your waist, his thumbs brushing slowly up and down your skin. 

“That’s like the nicest thing you’ve said to me today," he teased, fake-crying as he dramatically wiped an imaginary tear from his eye.

You huffed, rolling your eyes as you pushed him off. "And you ruined it," shaking your head at him. 

Before you could fully step away, he grabbed your hand again, fingers curling around yours. "Ight, my fault."

“C’mon tho” his fingers tugging you forward. You barely had time to respond as he moved the two of you through the crowd, your hand still firmly in his grasp.

He led you past groups of kids squealing and running through the open space, playing tag. You ducked your head slightly to avoid the trail of smoke drifting through the air, the scent of Black & Milds and whatever else the old heads were smoking lingering. They were playing spades on a folding table nearby, laughter rising from the men gathered around it.

You passed the cotton candy machine. A guy with the cart full of glowing toys waved light-up sticks in the air, calling out prices as kids tugged on their parents’ hands with wide eyes.

“Connie,” you said, breathless from both the pace and trying to keep up. “Where are you-” And then you saw it, the bounce castle. Slightly faded from all the years, its colors popped.

A short line of kids waited at the opening, some hopping in place, others tugging at the mesh walls. You slowed your steps, tugging back on his hand. “Connie, now you know damn well our big asses ain’t posed to be in there.”

He stopped just short of the entrance, turning to face you with that glint in his eye and a grin that was already guilty. “Ain’t nobody stoppin’ us,” he said, lowering his voice. “Just act like we checkin’ on the kids or somethin’.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed, your fingers still tangled with his. “You not serious right now.”

“Oh, I’m deadass,” eyes sparkling as he gave your hand another tug. “I’m tryna bounce, and you comin’ with me.”

You stared at him in disbelief, then at the poor kid operating the castle gate, who looked way too unsure about whether to stop him or just move out of the way. “Connie,” you warned again, but part of you was already smiling.

“If we pop this thing,” you side-eyed Connie as you approached the entrance. The bounce castle already wobbling under with all the kids already inside, and the closer you got.

Connie, completely unfazed, he cleared his throat dramatically, putting on his fake, responsible adult tone. “S'cuse me, lil man,” he said with an exaggerated nod toward the preteen standing guard at the mesh entrance, barely taller than the clipboard he was holding. “Just tryna check on some kids real quick. Won’t be long.”

You fought back a laugh as the kid squinted at both of you, arms crossed, lips pursed in suspicion. He looked Connie up and down, then at you behind him, eyes narrowing as if trying to calculate your combined weight. “Uh-huh,” the boy filled with attitude. “That’s what the last grown-ups said right before they popped it and dipped.”

Connie paused mid-step, glancing down at the kid with one brow raised.  “Yo, don’t do me like that,” he said, holding back a grin. “I bounce light. Real aerodynamic. Don’t play me.” You shook your head at Connie's choice of words, sure he and that kid didn't even know what aerodynamic means. 

The kid sucked his teeth and stepped aside just barely, giving you both the nastiest little side-eye. “Well, y’all better float, then,” he muttered. “Don’t have me out here explaining nothin’ to nobody.”

You nearly fell over when that lil’ kid hit y’all with the “y’all better float” line. Your knees buckled as laughter burst from your chest. You clutched your stomach, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. That lil’ boy was too bold. You were crying.

“Boy,” Connie snapped, flipping the mesh flap back down, towering over the kid with his brows furrowed. “Who you talkin’ to like that?” His tone dropped, all fake authority now, one hand cocked on his hip. “Don’t make me go find yo mama, 'cause I will.”

The kid didn’t blink. “Do it then,” he fired back instantly, folding his arms with a shrug. “Ain’t nobody scared of you. She's right over there by the snow cones, tell her I want red.”

Connie blinked, thrown off by how fast the boy came back. He turned fully around like he needed a moment to reset. “Yo. You bold. You real bold, kid,” he said, finger pointing.

The boy didn’t even flinch. “I just call it how I see it. Y’all both built like y’all supposed to be supervising, not jumpin’.” His lips pursed like he meant every word.

You let out a wheeze, your hands flying to your knees as you bent over, struggling to breathe between your laughs. “Na, why he on us like that?” Actual tears falling now.

Connie looked at you, eyes wide like he couldn’t believe the disrespect. “Nah, this is crazy,” he said. “Ight, kid. You got it.” He pointed at the boy, like he was giving him his props. “But at least we havin’ fun while you over here policing us like you, TSA.”

The boy sucked his teeth, then stepped aside with the most exaggerated sigh, “I’m just sayin’,” he muttered. “Bounce responsibly. I ain’t got time to be patchin’ no adult-sized holes.”

You completely lost it, stumbling through the entrance behind Connie, who was already shaking his head. Connie turned over his shoulder, dead serious. “You better bounce light. 'Cause if we pop this thing, I’m blamin’ him.”

“I dare you,” the kid replied with a smug smirk, already pulling the mesh flap back.

“Na, wussgud with him tho,” Connie said as he flopped dramatically into the castle, the whole castle shifting with his weight. “He gon’ grow up and be somebody’s sassy lil manager.”

There weren’t many kids left in the bounce castle by the time you two really got going. Most had already got out one by one, guided by that same sassy little boy who had taken it upon himself to enforce crowd control.

You watched from the far end of the castle as he stood at the mesh door, one hand on his hip, the other gesturing with exaggerated concern. “I’m just sayin’,” he announced to the remaining children. “I don’t trust it with all these adults in here. Y’all can bounce again later for your safety.”

Within minutes, the castle was practically empty. All that was a few echoing giggles outside, and you and Connie alone. Which, unfortunately for you, meant he had full range to be as annoying as possible.

Connie stood across from you, rising to his feet with that playful glint in his hazel eyes. He planted his feet wide for balance, knees bent, arms slightly out as the floor shifted under him.

He bounced once, then again, his grin growing as he got into it. Alright,” he said, his voice cocky, already hyping himself up. “I forgot how fire this feels. I’m lowkey an athlete.”

You laughed, already off balance as you pushed yourself upright, your arms flailing slightly to stay centered. “Athlete where?” you shot back, squinting at him. “You already almost busted your ass tryna stand.” 

Connie raised an eyebrow, his grin deepening. “Bet.”

Before you could fire off another joke, he crouched low, jumping up with ease, his body flipping backward in the air with a burst of movement. He landed the backflip with a “Athlete here.” and immediately did a quick front flip, his arms out dramatically as he landed upright again, wobbling just a bit but holding it together.

You were still catching your breath, chest rising and falling from all the jumping. “You just a show-off,” you said, unimpressed.

Connie shot you a look. “Yea, ight,” he said, “Gotta give the people what they want.”

You scoffed, planting your hands on your hips as you bounced in place, the castle beneath you, letting out a squeak with every movement. “What people?” your face scrunched up in confusion. "It’s literally just me here, and I definitely didn’t ask for that.”

Without warning, he jumped forward, landing just a few inches in front of you, “Nah, you was thinkin’ it tho,” he said. “I saw it in your face. You were like, damn, he really could be an Olympic athlete.”

You threw your head back, letting out a full laugh. “Boy, bye,” you , shoke your head slowly as your hands found your hips. “I was thinkin’, damn, he really needa start floatin’ for real.”

“Naaa, you got jokes,” he said, still laughing as he shook his head. “That’s crazy.”

He took one exaggerated leap backward, his landing shaking the whole floor beneath you both, making you wobble a bit. Then he dropped low into a WWE-style wrestling stance, knees bent, arms out. His eyes locked on you like he was about to make a move.

Your smile dropped instantly. “Connie, don’t do no stupid shit,” you warned, pointing a finger at him. Your voice came out serious. “I swear, if you tackle me, I’m finna fuck you up, word to.”

“You gon’ have to fuck me up then."

Your eyes widened instantly. “Connie!” you shouted, spinning on your foot to take off, your feet running against the floor. Your arms flailed, trying to steady yourself, but you barely got two bounces in before he lunged.

Connie launched forward, his arms hooking tight around your waist mid-air. You let out a high-pitched squeal as he lifted you clean off the floor, your legs kicking instinctively.

You crashed down, your bodies bouncing multiple times against the floor. The whole floor wobbled from the impact.

You landed flat on your back, breath knocked out of you for a second, your hair sprawled around your face. Connie rolled halfway on top of you, one arm beside your head, the other still wrapped loosely around your waist.

You blinked up at him, your breath shaky, body still adjusting to the impact. “You dumb as hell,” you slapped him weakly at the back of his head. “Didn’t I say don’t do no stupid shit?

“Damn, chill!” Connie laughed, grabbing the back of his head with both hands, acting like you really hurt him. “Talk about abuse.”

“You laughing, girl? You think this is funny?” Trying to sound mad through your smile. “You almost broke my back, Connie. My spine."

“You dramatic,” Connie said, still breathless with laughter. He grinned wide, teeth flashing, then reached over and flicked you right in the center of your forehead with his middle finger. It was light, but just enough to make you glare.“You still breathing,” he added, like that made everything okay.

“Barely, nigga,” you, side-eyed him hard as you shifted on the floor, trying to sit up. Your legs still tangled loosely with his, making movement clumsy. You elbowed him lightly in the ribs out of spite.

But Connie had gone quiet. You didn’t even notice at first, too busy fixing your shirt and moving your hair out of your face. But when you glanced back, he wasn’t laughing anymore. He was just watching you. His smile had faded, his eyes locked on your face, deep and still and filled with something that made your breath hitch.

Not just looking at you, looking into you. “You mad pretty,” he said randomly. His voice quiet, like he didn't mean to say it out loud at all.

You blinked, caught completely off guard. “Oh, baby, you’re so weird.”

But he didn’t laugh. “It’s true,” Connie said again, the kind of softness in his voice that the kind that came from his heart. “You’re hella pretty. Like annoying levels of pretty. It’s actually crazy.”

“Shut up, Con,” your voice cracking just slightly, your lips trembling around the edges as you tried to hold it together. You turned your face away, but not fast enough to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

 A smile he definitely saw. 

And he didn’t say anything after that, he just let the moment hang in the air, his eyes still gently fixed on you like he didn’t want to look anywhere else.

“Connieeee!” The familiar voice rang out in the distance. You and Connie both lifted your heads at the same time. He was just starting to sit up fully when the bounce house flap flew open, the air shifting as Connie’s little sister came running in. 

“Don’t hit her again!” she shouted, marching across the bounce castle floor. Her fists were balled tightly at her sides, her brows pulled together in a serious glare. All 40-something inches of her stood tall, like she’d been called by God to defend you. “I saw you tackle her!” she , pointed a finger at Connie. “That’s not fair!”

You broke into a loud laugh, your head tipping back as the sound burst out of you, caught completely off guard by how serious she looked.

Her tiny face was all scrunched up as Connie blinked, stunned, his brows furrowing as he looked down at her in disbelief, like he genuinely couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that she had come in just to scold him. “I ain’t even hurt her for real,” he protested, tossing his hands up dramatically in defense. “We was just-”

“Don’t care!” she snapped, cutting him off with a stomp of her foot that made the whole bounce floor jiggle beneath her. Without warning, she took off in a full-speed sprint toward him, her little fists clenched.

“Yo, wait, wait, wait.” Connie let out a small laugh and groan as he stumbled backward, his back hitting the bounce house floor with a soft thud. 

“Get him!” she screamed, but she was giving it everything she had with her tiny arms wrapping around him in an attempt to pin him down.

You scrambled to your feet, still giggling, and lunged toward him, throwing a bunch of light punches at his chest and shoulders. Connie threw his arms up dramatically, clutching his side like you were actually hurting him. 

"Agh, damn girl, why you hittin’ so hard?!” he yelled playfully, his body falling deeper into the bounce castle floor like you’d knocked the wind out of him.“Y’all double teaming,” he groaned, as his sister jumped on his leg again. “It’s not fair. I need backup.”

You were laughing so hard your punches slowed, your hands slapping gently against his sides. His eyes full of fake agony, eyes squeezed shut, mouth hanging open like he was on his last breath.

By the time the three of you finally stepped out of the bounce castle, the sky had softened into a blend of yellow, orange, and pink colors.

The sun was dropping low, and a golden hue cast over the neighborhood. The noise of the block party had quieted into a quiet murmur. People had already started packing up, folding chairs closed, grills were getting turned off, but the smell of food still lingered in the air. 

Connie’s little sister walked beside you, her small hand curled around yours. With each step, she did little skips, her shoes thudding lightly against the pavement, her hair bouncing with every movement.

Her fingers gripped yours tightly whenever her feet left the ground, like she wanted to make sure you stayed right there with her. You could feel the way she clung to your side, how she kept glancing up at you every few seconds, she missed you.

Connie trailed just a few steps behind, eyes on both of you, hands tucked in the pockets, a small smile on his lips.

“Let’s get outta here.” Connie leaned in closer. The corners of his mouth tugged into that lopsided smile you knew all too well. His breath was warm against your ear, and the way his hazel-green eyes locked onto yours made your heart skip a beat. “I wanna show you what you been missin’.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, lips curving into a teasing smile. “Boy, I just got back.” A soft laugh slipped from your lips as you nudged him playfully with your elbow..

But the way he looked at you, the way he spoke to you, stirred something warm in your gut. It didn’t just feel like he wanted you. It felt like he missed you. Like he needed you.

“Let’s say bye to your people first,” you said, glancing over to where Connie’s family was still posted up on the steps, laughing and talking like the party was still in full swing.

The three of you started walking together. Connie’s little sister suddenly let go of your hand and took off running with a squeal, her ponytail bouncing as she launched herself into her mom’s lap.

As soon as you reached the steps, Connie didn’t waste a second. “ight, y’all, we finna head out. We’ll see y’all later,” he said all in one breath before anyone could really register it. He slung his arm around your shoulders, locking you into a, playful chokehold.

“Connie.” Your voice was light as your hand instinctively reached up to grip his forearm. Your fingers curled gently around his skin, trying to push him off without really trying. He wasn’t even holding you that tight.

“Connie, uh-uh! Get your ass back over here!” one of his aunts hollered from the steps. But Connie? He wasn’t listening. Didn’t even flinch. His steps only picked up speed as he led you further down the block, his arm still slung around your shoulders, locking you in. You could feel the way his body shook with quiet laughter, clearly amused by all the noise behind you.

“Connie!” his grandma barked, trying again. “Boy, you hear me talkin’ to you!”

You glanced back over your shoulder with a small grin, turning your head just enough to wave at his family members still calling out, watching you both with amused expressions.

Some were laughing. Some were shaking their heads. His uncle even held up his phone like he was about to snap a picture. “They so damn fresh,” you heard someone say with a chuckle.

Once you got far enough down the block, just out of his family’s view, your eyes landed on the familiar car parked down the block,  the back of a 1997 Acura Integra, the wrap a glossy dark blue with a few scuffs and scratches. You immediately rolled your eyes at the sight of it.

“Oh my god, Connie, ain’t no way you still got this old-ass car.”You shoved yourself out of the loose chokehold he still had you in.  The taillight still had that slight fogginess to it, and one of the bumper stickers you remembered from years ago was somehow still holding on. 

But just from the outside, you could tell Connie had been putting in work. The glossy royal blue wrap shinned under the lights. The chrome trim around the windows was polished, and the blacked-out rims gave the car a more modern look.

He'd even swapped out the old headlights for LEDs that gave off a cool glow. The windows were tinted just dark enough to hide whoever was inside, but still legal enough to get away with. Even the old Acura badge on the trunk looked new, like he had replaced it.

“Na, you ain’t gon’ get on my baby like that,” Connie said, yanking his keys out of his pocket. His face was srucnhed up, looking like he was offended.

“You don’t see these upgrades?” He stepped back, arms spread like he was showing off a masterpiece. “Look at the wrap. Glossy royal blue custom. No scratches. No marks. Rims blacked out. New tires, LED lights. Don’t play with me.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. “C’mon, get in,” Connie said, doing a small jog around to the passenger side like he was a valet. 

He pulled the door open, letting you step inside, while he then leaned against the door frame, one arm resting on the roof. “She’s old, yea,” he said, eyes glinting with pride as you slid into the seat. “But she got personality. You ain’t even seen the inside yet.” He gave you a playful wink before gently closing the door behind you. 

He opened the door and slid in beside you, the car dipping just slightly with his weight. He twisted the key in the ignition, the soft rum of the engine coming to life, the interior lights started to glow blue and purples lining the edges of the dashboard and beneath your feet.

“You see these upgrades?” He glanced at you with a proud look on his face.  “C’mon, I know you feel these new leather seats, stop playin’, this ain’t the same car from high school.” He patted the seat under him, then leaned forward, tapping the touchscreen in the center console as music started to cue up. “Peep the lights. You see that? I got ambiance in here now. He turned to you with a raised brow, waiting for your reaction. 

“No more static either. I got the Bluetooth in this joint. Aux, touchscreen, all that. We don’t gotta listen to no ass radio, no more talkin’ ’bout you can play whatever you want, Apple Music, Spotify, shit, even SoundCloud."

“C’mon, baby, stop playin’ with me,” Connie said with that cocky grin as he shifted the car into reverse. He leaned back casually, his right arm stretched across the back of your seat while his left hand stayed steady on the wheel.

You felt the light pressure of his fingers brushing against your headrest as he looked over his shoulder, his jawline catching the last of the sunset slipping in through the windshield.

The car eased out of the spot with a low rumble, tires crunching gently over gravel as he maneuvered out of the spot. “Go ‘head,” he said once he straightened out, reaching into the cup holder for his phone. He held it out to you, his screen already on the Spotify app. “Play you want.”

As the car pulled onto the road, the block was quieter now, no longer loud with the energy of the party, but filled with that soft nighttime Brooklyn, the occasional bark of a dog, people chilling on stoops.

It was a mix of old and new. A weed dispensary where a food spot used to be. A freshly painted mural on the corner wall, you remembered being blank for years. Graffiti tags with street art. It was all still your neighborhood.

You decided to hit shuffle, and the opening notes of “2am” by Cassanova flowed through the speakers. Connie’s fingers immediately started tapping along to the beat. His hand was light on the wheel, guiding the car with ease.

“You still ain’t tell me where we goin’,” you said, your voice soft over the music. You turned slightly to face him, your eyes drifting from the road to his side profile, the subtle curve of his jawline, the glint in his hazel-green eyes, the curl of his lips. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Connie said, that stupid-ass grin still plastered on his face, like he was trying real hard to keep things cool. But you knew him too well. He kept his eyes on the road, but you could tell he wasn’t fully present.

His bottom lip was pulled slightly between his teeth, not enough to bite, just enough to fidget. Every now and then, he’d tap his thumb against the steering wheel faster than the beat, or do a double-tap, something he always did when he was thinking too hard.

You knew him all too well. You leaned back in your seat, watching him out of the corner of your eye. He was in his head. Big time. Probably thinking ten steps ahead like he always did, overanalyzing everything, probably even second-guessing bringing you wherever y’all were headed.

He let a few more beats of the song pass, fingers still tapping gently. His hand slid from the gearshift and landed on your thigh. You felt the warmth from his palm. His fingers spreading just lightly over your skin. He moved like he’d been waiting to do that all day. 

You turned to look at him, that lopsided smile already tugging at your lips. But Connie? He didn’t even glance your way. His eyes stayed glued to the road ahead, jaw relaxed, left hand is steering, the other is gripping your thigh.

Now it was your turn to overthink. Your eyes flicked down to his hand resting on your thigh, his fingers still. The warmth of his touch lingered on your skin, making it hard to focus on anything else. The longer it stayed, the more your heart picked up speed.

You glanced at his face, his expression unreadable. That grin had faded into something more serious, like he was trying not to let his nerves show, but you saw the way his thumb kept tapping against the steering wheel, the way he licked his lips and blinked a little slower than usual. 

Your fingers twitched in your lap. Should you grab his hand? Would that make it weird? Would it make it better? You shifted slightly in your seat, pretending to adjust your shorts just to buy yourself another second.

You pressed your lips together, your thigh tingled under his touch, your chest was tight with something warm and stupid, and suddenly the air between you two felt thick.

Finally, like you couldn’t help yourself anymore, your hand inched closer to his. Your pinky brushed against his first. Then slowly, you slid your fingers under his, your hand slipping into his palm, and his fingers curled around yours without hesitation.

He turned to face you, eyes lingering, searching like he was trying to read your mind. But now your head stayed facing forward, fixed on the road ahead. You didn’t look at him, not with how fast your heart was thudding against your chest. 

He could tell you were trying to keep it cool, but the small things gave you away. The way your hand tightened slightly in his. The way your breath hitched when you felt his gaze still on you. And even though your face stayed the same, your body leaned just a bit toward him.

Connie tilted his head a little, the corner of his mouth twitching up, not a smirk this time, “Y’not slick,”

“Boy, please, you not slick,” Your eyes stayed fixed on the windshield, hands suddenly fidgety in your lap. It came out harsher than you meant it, but the nerves bubbling in your chest made everything feel ten times more intense.

Connie let out a low chuckle, “Trust, I ain’t tryna be,” he said, glancing at you out the corner of his eye.

You shook your head, biting back a smile, still facing toward your window even though your face was burning. “Whatever,” you muttered, but your fingers, without even thinking, gave his hand the smallest squeeze.

For a second, neither of y’all said anything. The music low between you, his thumb brushed gently up and down your skin like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. But you didn’t want him to stop, and neither did he.  

You started to have that feeling back in your chest the moment you caught a glimpse of the faded brick building just up ahead, your old elementary school.

The name was still barely visible on the side, the playground out back rusted but still standing. The moment you saw it, it hit you. The benches tagged up with old Sharpie, your names with hearts carved into the wood.

This was the park where you first met Connie, barely old enough to know how to spell each other's names but already chasing each other through the grass. You played tag, hide-and-seek, and swung so high on the swings that the sky seemed so close.

It was where you had your first fist fight, your knuckles scraped, eyes blown wide, over something stupid you couldn’t even remember now. Connie had been the one to pull you back, arms around your waist, yelling at you to chill while also lowkey laughing because he was impressed you could swing like that.

It was where y’all got high for the first time. Huddled behind the old jungle gym, giggling over a joint rolled way too loose, trying to act grown while your eyes watered from your nose and throat burning. Connie kept pretending he wasn’t paranoid as fuck, and you were the one to calm him down.

It was where you came when your heart broke for the first time, sitting on the swings long after the sun had gone down, tears on your cheeks. Connie had pulled up in a hoodie, silent at first, then offering you half his Arizona and the rest of his hot fries like that was enough to fix a broken heart. And somehow, it kind of was.

And now, here you were again. Years later. Older, different, but somehow the same. You glanced at Connie from the passenger seat, his profile soft in the fading light. And just for a second, the years in between didn’t feel so far away.

“Let’s go.” Connie's voice was low as he cut the engine, the hum of the car dying. He twisted the keys from the ignition with a quick flick of his wrist.

You didn’t move right away. You just sat there, legs crossed, fingers playing with the edge of your shorts, your body turned slightly toward him. Connie always opened your door. Ever since he got this car passed down to him, back when the passenger side door used to stick so bad he had to wrestle it open, and the AC barely worked, you had all the windows rolled down, he’d made it a thing. Said it was manners. It was just how he moved with you.

So you waited, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as you watched him unbuckle, push open his door with a bit of extra force, and step out. The car rocked slightly from the shift in weight. He didn’t even look back as he jogged around the front.

As he reached for your handle,the veins in his arms flexing, his face unreadable. And then the door creaked open, and there he was, standing tall, leaning his forearm casually on the roof, looking down at you with that boyish grin.

The two of you stepped onto the cracked pavement path, and a gentle breeze rustled the trees overhead, carrying with it the faint scent of grass and playground rubber.

Your steps were slow and steady, falling in rhythm with Connie’s beside you. Neither of you said much at first, but the silence wasn’t awkward, it was just quiet.

The tips of your fingers brushed once.

Then again.

Not fully holding hands, but lingering close enough that you both noticed. His pinky barely grazed yours before pulling back, and you caught the slight glance he gave you out of the corner of his eye like he was waiting to see if you’d flinch. You didn’t. If anything, your hand moved in his direction.

You made your way over to the swings, you and Connie always had your designated spots. His was the one on the end, the one that dipped slightly lower from him and other kids jumping off it too many times. Yours was the one next to it, the swing that rarely squeaked.

Your gaze lingered on it, a wave of nostalgia hitting harder than you expected. That swing had been yours, you defended every summer.

You could still remember Connie pretending not to care, then racing you for it the moment your back was turned. One time, he even pushed you not too hard, just enough to make you stumble so he could snatch it first, laughing his ass off while you shouted empty threats behind him.

You shook your head at the memory, lips still curled in that soft, nostalgic grin. “Dumbass really pushed me for a swing,” you mumbled to yourself, a quiet laugh escaping as you gently kicked a small rock on the ground.

You saw Connie’s eyes flick toward the swings, that glint lighting up before he even moved. “Connie, don’t you fucking dare.”

But he was already gone, bolting through the swing gate with a laugh spilling out of his chest. You took off right behind him, your shoes pounding against the cracked pavement as you tried to catch up, your breath quick with disbelief and laughter.

“Connie!” you called. But of course, he made it to the swings first, your swing, claiming it, dropping into the seat with a dramatic sigh like he belonged there. He gripped the chains with both hands, leaning back like he was perfectly comfortable, like he hadn’t just stolen your spot for the millionth time.

He swung gently, looking over at you with a smug little grin. “What?” he said innocently. “You was movin’ too slow.”

“Connie, get up,” you snapped, breathless from running.

He just shrugged, dragging the tip of his sneaker in the foam. “Nah, I’m chillin’. Feels like good right here.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, your hands planted firmly on your hips, “You got one minute before I drag you off that swing, Springer. Don’t test me.”

Connie tilted his head back lazily, that grin never once leaving his face. “Mmm, drag me then,” he said, kicking his feet just enough to make the swing creak back and forth. “You always tryna fight me for this swing. You ever think maybe it likes me better now?”

You crossed your arms, raising a brow. “Boy, please,” you scoffed, stepping closer. “I don’t think anything likes you better. Not the swing, not the park, not even Mister Softee. You're delusional.”

“That’s crazy,” he leaned back farther into the swing, letting it rock under him. “You come back, I offer you a ride, treat you to a lil nostalgia tour, and you out here disrespectin’ my name in front of my swing?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hold back the smirk tugging at your lips. “Get up before I actually drag you off.”

He grinned wider, cocking his head playfully. “Make me.”Just as Connie started to kick his legs, easing himself into a slow swing, you stepped in without hesitation. Your fingers curled tightly around his forearm, and with one sharp tug, you yanked him clean off the seat.

“Yo, chill!” he shouted through a burst of laughter, his body jolting forward. His feet scrambled to catch his balance, arms flailing before he managed to steady himself. He turned around wide-eyed, a hand clutching his chest like he almost just died. “You really dragged me like that?!”

You didn’t even blink. You spun on your heel and dropped yourself onto your swing. The chains rattled under your grip as you leaned back into it. “Don’t ever play wit' me.”

He blinked at you in disbelief, lips parted. “Ight, my fault,” he muttered, brushing the front of his shirt. “Snatched me up like I owe you money.”

“Honestly, you probably do,” you shurgerd as Connie dropped down onto his swing with a heavy thud, the one he always used to grab.

The rusted metal squeaked like it always did as he settled his weight into it. Without warning, he kicked off hard, his sneakers digging into the ground for momentum. The swing jolted forward, lifting him high into the air, the chain links clinking as he moved back and forth. 

You side-eyed him, your own swing gently swaying with each small kick of your feet. “Boy, you really doing all that for real?” your eyes trailing after him as he went higher with each push.

His feet kicked out, his back arched just enough to make the swing rise higher, the chains tightening with a small creak.

Connie turned his head toward you mid-swing, “Gotta remind you I still got it,” he called out, voice rising.

You just shook your head, lips twitching into a soft smile as you let your gaze wander, taking in the park in. It was fully dark now, the sky above a deep navy, faintly lit by a few stars that peeked through the light pollution. The only real glow came from the old streetlamps scattered around the park, some flickering weakly.

The air smelled like a mix of damp earth and faint weed smoke. There were still a few people hanging around, mostly older teens huddled near the basketball court with hoodies pulled over their heads, passing around a joint and talking low. Their laughter drifting in and out.

The place had changed. Some of the benches had been replaced so homeless people couldn't sleep on them. The paint on the jungle gym was peeling more than you remembered.

But everything else? Still the same. You exhaled slowly, your breath visible in the chill that had crept in with the night, and for a second, it almost felt like you never left.

“Y' know,” your voice soft as his swing slowed to a gentle rock. “It’s crazy, one day we were just little kids here, and now we’re some grown-ass adults.” 

He dragged the toes of his sneakers along the foam, slowing his movements so he could turn his head toward you. “I used to think I’d grow up, get rich, buy the park just so nobody else could touch it,” a small laugh left his lips. “Like, I was ready to put my name on it and everything. ‘Connie’s Park.’”

You snorted, your fingers tightening around the cool chains as your own swing rocked lightly beside his. “Please, Connie. You’d be a terrible park owner,” you said, rolling your eyes with a grin. “You’d ban kids for no reason and take all the good swings for yourself.”

“Nahhh, not if it was just for us,” he turned more toward you, the chain squeaking as he twisted in place. “Like, imagine that. No noise, no people, just us. You on your favorite swing, me on mine. Forever.”

Your breath caught for a second, you looked over at him, his features relaxed in the dim glow, and for a moment, it felt like the whole world quieted. 

There was just something about Connie, something that had always been there. The way he spoke to you, like every word, even when he was just joking. The way he looked at you. That pull he had on you, the closeness that had been there since you were kids.

Back when it was just scraped knees and daring each other to jump off swings. But now? It was still there, but deeper. No matter how far you went or how long you’d been gone, in moments like this, sitting beside him with the night, it shows how close you two really are. Reminding you that you never really let him go.

Without even thinking, your hand reached across the space between you, fingers brushing lightly against his. You didn’t grab him, not yet, just let your fingertips rest there, testing the waters. Connie didn’t flinch. He turned his hand out. The warmth of his skin met yours as your fingers slid into his, locking together.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. Instead, his thumb started tracing soft, slow circles over the back of your hand.

“You still think you could beat me in a race across the park?” you asked suddenly, breaking the silence with a smirk tugging at your lips.

He blinked over at you, his grin already forming. “Beat you? Girl, I did beat you. Every single time.”

“That’s a damn lie,” you shot back, laughing. “I let you win once, and you’ve been delusional ever since.”

He turned toward you now, eyes glinting, the chains of his swing twisting slightly as he angled himself in your direction. “Nah, you always had a lil’ crush. That’s what it really was. You let me win ‘cause you liked me.”

You scoffed. “Boy, please. If anything, you had the crush. You used to chase me round' this park like a puppy.”

He leaned a bit closer, his swing inching toward yours just enough that your knees brushed. “And look at us now, still chasing each other.”

“Na you chasing me” 

“Man, whatever, c’mon, let’s go see how Junior’s doin’,” Connie said, nodding his head down the block toward the deli. You both knew exactly who he meant. Junior, the deli owner who had been holding it down on the corner since before yall were born.

He was at least forty years older, with a greying beard and a voice that carried. But despite his age, Junior had the kind of energy that made the neighborhood feel alive.

Always posted behind the counter with a half-eaten sandwich and some sports game playing in the background, he treated you two like you were his own, especially when you’d come in with new report cards. He’d give you free snacks if your grades were good, giving you chips and honey buns.

Connie, of course, never had the grades to match, but Junior let him slide anyway, always talking ‘bout “I’m rewardin’ potential, not performance.”

You laughed softly at the memory, already able to picture Connie lying through his teeth about a fake B-minus just to get a free Arizona, and Junior pretending to believe him, all while shaking his head with that little smile he couldn’t hide.

The walk to Junior’s was mostly calm, the kind of quiet that only really hits late at night. The air was warm from the summer humidity, but the sidewalks had cleared. You and Connie walked side by side, your steps slow and easy, the kind of silence that felt comfortable until it wasn’t.

“Oh my gosh,” you shrieked, body jolting as your feet left the ground, startled. A massive rat darted across the cracked sidewalk just inches ahead, its long tail dragging behind. You’d jumped straight into Connie’s side without thinking, gripping his arm like your life depended on it.

Connie nearly doubled over, bursting out laughing. “Yo. It wasn't even that big.” He looked at you with a grin, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.“Clearly, you been outta New York too long.”

You glared at him, heart still thudding as you reluctantly let go of his arm. “Connie, c’mon, nah, that thing was huge. Like a big ass opossum.” 

The two of you finally made your way to the deli, the fluorescent lights casting a soft glow. The chipped red-and-yellow awning still hung above the doorway, the same one that had been there since y’all were kids, its colors a little more faded now. The neon “OPEN” sign in the window, and the door creaked like it always had.

You expected him to not be there right now, figuring it was too late for Junior to still be behind the counter. He had to be over sixty by now, and even back then, he always joked about retiring. But as you pushed the glass door open and the little bell overhead jingled, there he was.

Standing behind the counter like he’d been waiting for y’all this whole time, arm resting on the worn surface. His salt-and-pepper beard was a little longer, the circles under his eyes a little deeper, but that same smile spread across his face the moment he saw you. “Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in,” Junior said, like no time had passed at all.

You let out a laugh, one that came straight from the gut, your eyes lighting up. “Damn, Junior. You still here?” 

He chuckled, tossing the half-scratched lotto ticket onto the counter. “Y’all thought I was gonna retire before I saw your grown ass again? Nahhh. Ain’t no way,” he said, as he rounded the side of the counter.

Without hesitation, he pulled you into a tight hug, the kind that squeezed the breath out of you yet made you feel safe all at once. His arms wrapped around your frame. Junior was someone who watched you grow up, who fixed your scraped knees, saw report cards, and let you have snack runs after school. “Long time no see,” his palm giving your back a firm pat. “’ Bout time you came back.”

You could feel his smile before you saw it again, the kind that wrinkled his eyes and softened his whole face. Over his shoulder, Connie grinned too, watching the reunion with a smile.

Connie was already grinning ear to ear. He leaned his elbow on the counter, the exact way he used to back when he was sixteen and coming in here every other day after school. Eyes flicking to the familiar snack racks and scratch-offs behind Junior like nothing had changed.

“You still givin’ out free chips if I say I got straight A’s?” Connie asked. They dapped each other up, a small clap coming from them. Junior was pulling him in for a quick half-hug, slapping his back, like no time had passed at all. 

Junior grabbed one of the newspapers behind Connie while they were in a hug and he smacked Connie on the back of the head, not hard, but just enough to make Connie duck like a kid again. “Boy, you never had straight A’s,” Junior grinned from ear to ear, shaking his head like he still couldn’t believe the lies Connie used to try to sell him back in middle school.

Connie held the back of his head with an exaggerated wince. “Damn. You tryna give me brain damage, old man?”

Junior waved him off like he’d done a hundred times before. “You already came in here wit yo brain damaged,” he said, pointing a finger at Connie like he was scolding him, but the warmth in his eyes told the truth. “But go ahead. Take what you want. You know how it go.”

Connie lit up at that, already eyeing the shelves like a kid let loose in a candy store. “Say less,”

You couldn’t help but laugh, watching the exchange while you were looking at the drinks.

“You two ain’t married yet?” Junior called out while he was walking behind the counter, full of that nosy-uncle energy he always had. His voice carried across the deli as you were reaching into the fridge to grab you and Connie’s usuals.

You turned your head slowly, your fingers still wrapped around the handle of the refrigerator door. Connie let out a low laugh beside you, already cracking open his Arizona Fruit Punch like the question didn’t bother him.

You pulled out your own drink, a cold Watermelon Arizona, and shut the fridge door with your hip, shooting Junior a look. “Junior, you still on that?”

Junior scoffed dramatically, tossing the scratch-off booklet onto the counter like he was offended. “On that? C’mon. I’m gettin’ old, I wanna be able to be at y’all’s wedding before my knees give out,” he said, rubbing his lower back for emphasis as he leaned forward. “I practically raised y’all in here.”

“You know how many sandwiches I made while y’all sat right there,” he pointed to the worn corner, where there were chips from years of wear and tear, “arguing about who was better at Double Dutch."

You laughed, already picturing a younger you and Connie perched on that counter with hot chips in hand, play-fighting between sips of soda. Connie snorted beside you, shaking his head with a grin, but Junior kept going.

His voice softened a little as the memory pulled him back, a crooked smile spreading. “Every week it was somethin’. You with your jump rope and Connie swearin’ up and down he could out-jump you while the boy couldn’t even stay in rhythm.”

“Na, I had rhythm.” Connie cut in defensively, grinning.

Junior didn’t even glance at him. “You had rhythm like a busted washing machine.” He snorted, then looked back at you. “But you always came back. Both of you. Like this place was home.”

“Man, whatever lemme get two chopped cheeses with barbecue sauce,” Connie said, leaning casually against the glass counter like he’d never left. He tapped the counter with two fingers, then glanced back at you with a smirk. “You still like it with the barbecue, right?” You couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips as you nodded your head.

Junior, still rocking his signature Yankees cap tilted slightly to the side, gave Connie a squint, already pulling gloves on with one hand as he reached for the grill handle with the other. “Y’all come back here like no time passed. Same order, same nonsense. You want it on a hero or a roll?”

“Roll,” Connie answered instantly. “C’mon, y'know how we eat old man.” You leaned on the edge of the chip rack, eyes scanning the row of candy and chips.

As Junior threw the meat on the hot grill, it began to crackle and hiss. You felt Connie’s shoulder brush against yours lightly, casually.

Junior nodded at both of you while flipping the meat. “I swear, I blink and y’all all grown. But y’all always been a pair. Don’t matter how long it’s been, you two walk in here, and it’s like nothin’ ever changed.” You glanced at Connie again. He was already watching you.”

“Yea,” he murmured. “Some things just never change.”

Just as if on cue, a familiar soft purr echoed from the corner of the deli. You barely had to look, your body reacted before your eyes even found her. Walking her way out from behind the chip rack came the deli cat, the same one you and Connie had practically grown up with. Her orange-and-white fur was a little duller now, her body moving slower now.

Your face lit up instantly. “Hi, mama,” your voice softened the way it always did for her. You bent to your knees, hand already reaching out as she found herself around your legs, her purrs growing louder the longer you stroked down her back. Her body brushed against you.

“She don’t even like nobody no more.”Junior called out with a chuckle from behind the counter, flipping the meat on the grill. 

Connie snorted behind you. “That’s ‘cause she got taste.” You scooped her up gently, hands sliding beneath her soft belly as she let out a low purr, already melting into your arms like she’d been waiting for this all day.

As soon as she settled against your chest, she put her head up and began nuzzling into the curve of your neck, her little head pressing insistently like she was claiming you all over again.

“Aww,” you cooed, voice dropping to that tone only reserved for her, “I missed you too, mama.” Your fingers automatically began stroking behind her ears, where her fur was still the softest, while her tail flicked back and forth.

Junior returned to the counter, setting everything down like it was, the two warm sandwiches wrapped in foil, two ice-cold Arizonas, and a pack of watermelon Sour Patch and Skittles. All of it slid neatly into the classic black plastic bag.

"How much we owe you?” Connie asked, already pulling out his wallet from his back pocket.

Junior shot him a look over the top of his glasses, one brow raised like he couldn’t believe Connie had the nerve to even ask that. “Boy, put that wallet away.” Junior leaned on the counter, crossing his arms with an unimpressed look. He’d known you two your whole lives and wasn’t about to start charging now.

“You think I’m takin’ money from y’all tonight? After all them years of you eatin’ for free just ‘cause she brought home good grades?” He nodded toward you with a smirk.

You laughed, gently nudging Connie with your elbow. “He’s not wrong. I was the reason you got snacks sometimes.”

Junior pointed a finger at you, nodding. “She held it down, and you always came in here actin’ like you earned it.” Junior waved dismissively at Connie

Junior pushed the bag toward you both. “Now take your food and get outta here before I change my mind.”

You both grabbed the bag, your hands brushing for just a second as you lifted it. You turned to leave, Junior added with a wave of his hand, “Y’all be safe out there. And don’t go makin’ no babies on my block, you hear?”

“Too late,” Connie said under his breath, and you smacked his arm on your way out the door, your laughter ringing.

“Missed his ass. He needa sit his old ass down somewhere tho, should be sleep by now.” Your voice full of affection as you stepped out onto the sidewalk. Connie was already swinging open the passenger side, waiting for you to get in. 

"Deadass," he agreed. You slid into the car, the leather seats.

The scent of his cologne clung to the air inside. Not that you would say it out loud, but you really liked the way he fixed up the car from the last time you saw it.

Connie settled into the driver’s seat, the door clicking shut behind him. The keys jangled softly as he slid them into the ignition, but he didn’t start the car right away. His hand came to rest on the back of your headrest, fingers lightly drumming against the leather as his eyes found yours.

“Y’know,” he started, voice low, in a way that wasn’t like him. Not the Connie everyone knew, not the jokster. This was different. Softer. “I fixed this car up, not just ‘cause I love it.” He paused, his tongue pressing against his cheek like he was working through the rest in his head before it left his mouth.

“But ‘cause I ain’t wanna let go of the stuff we did in it.” Which was history. You. Him. All the laughter, the arguments, the late-night drives, being stupid teenagers, and even still now, the unsaid confessions.

You couldn't help the smile that crept onto your face. Connie’s words hung in the air. He didn’t look at you after he said it. Just stared straight ahead.

Instead, your hand moved slowly, deliberately across the center console. You reached for his fingers, brushing against his knuckles, then sliding between them. Like no time had passed. You didn’t look at him right away. Just squeezed soft at first, then tighter.

You just let the moment pass, your hand still intertwined with his, fingers resting softly against his palm. You leaned into the center console a little more, something drawing you toward him without even realizing it.

Your gaze wandered not intentionally and landed on his forearm. That’s when you noticed the new ink. You reached over without saying a word, your fingertip gently brushing the edge of a tattoo that curled just along his forearm.

The tattoo caught your eye in the dim lights, one you didn’t fully remember. So it had to be newer, something he must’ve gotten after you left.

Your nail traced along the lines. You felt Connie’s breath hitch as your finger moved slowly across the ink, the silence between you stretching. His arm stayed still, letting you take your time. Letting you see it. Like maybe he’d been waiting for this moment to show you, to let you find it on your own.

But once you recognized it, you couldn’t forget it. Your lips parted slightly, a breath caught in your throat. There, in the design, were those terrible doodles, the same ones you and Connie had drawn of each other back in elementary school.

Lopsided heads, uneven arms, big stupid grins. One of them was supposed to be you, the other him. And beneath each figure, your initials were scrawled in that same terrible handwriting you'd used back then, yours under the crooked girl, his under the terribly drawn boy. It was ridiculous. And it damn near broke you.

Because of all the things he could’ve inked on his skin, that’s what he chose.“Connie,” you breathed, your voice softer now. Your eyes lingered on the tattoo, thumb brushing lightly over the outline of your childhood drawings.

“What?” He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “You tryna distract me while I’m drivin’?” he said, that smirk playing on his lips, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

He was trying to play it off. To shift the weight of the moment back into something light, like he always did when he overthought. But his fingers gripped the wheel a little tighter. And even though he was staring at the road, you could tell he was waiting to see what you’d do next.

“Connie,” you say again, even softer this time. Your voice barely above a whisper, your eyes hadn’t left his arm, your fingers still resting gently over the tattoo. There was something about seeing your childhood doodles, inked forever into his skin, that made your chest ache.

Your throat tightened, your vision blurring just a little, and you blinked rapidly, holding back the sudden rush of emotion. It was silly, and he’d made it permanent. “You’re too sweet.”

“Don’t cry.” He had parked the car by then, the engine ticking quietly in the silence as he turned to face you fully. One of his hands came off the steering wheel, the pad of his thumb brushing beneath your eye, catching the small tears that had begun to gather in the corners.

It wasn’t just about the tattoo. It was everything. The way he looked at you. The way he remembered small things about you. The bounce castle, the car, the park, the swing. The jokes, the snacks, the music. Every small gesture tonight had made you feel so seen.

It was the quiet moments, the way his fingers rested on your thigh, the way he opened your door without thinking, the way he listened. Every part of tonight was with you in mind. That’s what made you fall in love him so much. “C’mon,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “We here.”

It was late, real late. Most of the windows dark, the only sounds being the soft hum of cars in the distance. You two had parked a little far off, walking the rest of the way, finally making it to his house. 

Most of the people in Connie’s house were knocked out by now, with the lights off. So naturally, you two were trying to be quiet. But of course, the second Connie eased open the front door, holding it so it wouldn’t creak, he whispered, “ight, just follow behind me, don’t trip over nothi-” 

He immediately stumbled forward, groaning low under his breath as he smacked his shin right into the edge of a shoe rack by the door. You watched him freeze in place, his lips pursed like he was trying not to scream. “Shit,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

You shook your head at him, of course it had to be his dumbass. “Boy, how you gon’ tell me not to trip over nothin’, look at your dumbass,” you whispered, barely holding in a laugh.

“Man, just come on before I leave you,” he muttered, glancing back at you with a playful scowl as he limped a little. 

You two crept up the stairs like kids sneaking back from somewhere they knew they shouldn't have been. The house was dark, only a faint nightlight glowing from the hallway outlet, casting small shadows up the staircase.

But you didn’t need light to know your way through this place, you knew this house like the back of your hand. Every creaky board, every wall scuff from back when y’all used to race each other to the kitchen for snacks.

Finally, you reached his room, the door creaking open. Once you stepped in and your eyes adjusted, “Connie,” you started, blinking at the scene in front of you, “ain’t no fucking way.”

The room looked exactly like it did back in high school. Same scattered collection of action figures on the shelves, some in dramatic poses, others lying down like they’d been through war. Comic books were stacked messily on the dresser, and anime posters still on the walls, faded, just peeling off slightly at the corners. But the main thing that threw you off?

The Spider-Man bedsheets.

Bright red and blue, with Peter Parker mid-swing across a pixelated skyline. “Why you got Spider-Man bedsheets, bro?” you turned to him with disbelief in your voice.

Connie just shrugged, completely unbothered, tossing his keys on the dresser. “What you mean why? Man’s a goat.”

“You’re a grown man bro.”

“Exactly. Grown enough to not care.”Connie slid open the window in his room.

He reached down to grab the crinkled black deli bag stuffed with your snacks and sandwiches, the plastic rustling in his hand. He ducked through the open window and stepped onto the fire escape, the metal clanking softly beneath his sneakers.

You followed right behind him, lifting one leg through the window, then the other, your hands bracing against the frame as you climbed out. The night air was cool against the warmth on your cheeks.

You two got comfortable on the metal as Connie sat with his legs stretched out, sorting through the black bag, pulling out your watermelon sourpatch kids, his Arizona, making sure everything was accounted for.

You leaned into him, head resting softly on his shoulder as the city buzzed faintly below. The warmth of his body next to yours made the night air feel less cool.

“I forgot how pretty you look under streetlights.” His voice was teasing.

You lifted your head and gave him a look, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Stop flirtin’ with me, Springer.”

You took a bite of your chopped cheese, it hit just right. Your eyes wandered across the quiet street below, the faint orange glow of the streetlights. It wasn’t much, just cracked sidewalks and cars lining the curb, but somehow it all felt like home. Connie felt like home.

He sat beside you, legs bent at the knees, arms resting at his side as he stared off into the same night sky. It was just the two of you, your breaths syncing in the silence.

There were no jokes, no teasing. Just the shared space that you shared for years. The kind of silence that didn’t need to be filled. You stole a glance at him. And he was already looking at you. He didn’t say anything. And neither did you. He just looked at you with a soft smile.

“You still eat like you inna race,” you said with a soft laugh, shaking your head as you leaned in a little closer. Without thinking, your hand came up, thumb brushing the corner of his mouth where a bit of barbecue sauce clung.

His skin was warm under your touch, but he didn’t flinch or pull away, he just stared at you, still chewing slightly, brows lifting just a bit in surprise.

When, without breaking eye contact, you brought your thumb to your lips, tongue darting out slowly to taste the sauce. You dragged your teeth lightly across the pad of your finger before letting it drop to your lap, eyes never leaving his.

Connie blinked once, then twice. His back pressed a little deeper into the cold railing. But the look on his face? That crooked smile?

It was like he was trying not to give in too easily. He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head like you were trouble and he knew it. “Keep lookin’ at me like that,” his voice rougher, now, “I’m not gon’ be able to chill.”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence as you slowly took another bite of your sandwich. Connie shifted beside you, subtly adjusting his seat like you were making it hard to sit still. 

“Don’t look at me like that, shorty,” his eyes narrowing at you, but of course, there was no real heat behind it. You could see the muscles in his jaw flex as he chewed more slowly, like he was trying to focus on the food and not you.

You leaned into him just a bit, your voice soft but edged with teasing. “I’m not lookin’ at you like anything,” you said, even though your eyes were on him again. 

For a second, the air between you two felt silent but loud. You felt it sitting in your throat, the words right there, clawing their way up. You wanted to say it.

You wanted to tell him everything, how this whole night had you spinning, how you’d never stopped thinking about him, how it always came back to him. Only him. You opened your mouth. Then, closed it. Your eyes dropped to his lips, then flicked away. 

His tongue darted out to lick the corner of his mouth where your thumb had just been. He watched the way your eyes kept flicking to his lips, then down, like maybe you were hoping he wouldn’t notice. But he did. He always did. 

“Say what you wanna say,” his voice lower now, thick with that Brooklyn drawl. His eyes were locked on yours, expression serious despite the teasing grin he wore a second ago. “Or I’ma say it for you.”

Your thighs shifted slightly against the cool metal, and you sat up straighter, barely, just enough to tilt toward him, and for a second, he didn’t look like the boy you grew up with, he looked like someone brand new and familiar all at once.

You tilted your head, eyes scanning his face, his lips, his jaw, the tattoo on his arm that had your initials, still there. That was all it took.

You moved without a word, slowly swinging one leg over his, settling onto his lap. Your thighs rested on either side of him, your body closing the distance in a way your mouth hadn’t dared to yet.

“Ok,” His hands instinctively went to your hips, his grip was firm, a light little squeeze like he wasn't ready to let go of you. “You wanna play like dat.”

"Heard."He leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I promise you-” You could tell he had a smirk etched onto his lips without even having to see it. 

Connie's hand was moving up and down your waist. He pulled back. “I think no- I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.” 

“I’m talkin’,” he said, glancing away like he couldn’t believe he was saying this, “back when you used to chase me around the monkey bars. When you cried over that dumbass grade you got, and I gave you half my sandwich to make you feel better, even though I was hungry as hell.”

He laughed, his eyes were glassy now. “I was in love with you when we was stupid and sneakin’ Arizona cans in our backpacks. And now? You sittin’ on my lap, talkin’ shit, lickin' my barbecue sauce on your thumb, and I’m still right here. Still yours like I’d always had been.” 

It was silent for a beat before. “I ain’t never stopped wantin’ you. Even when you left. Even when I told myself to move on.” He swallowed. “So if you still feel anythin’, just say it. Or kiss me. Or” He trailed off, almost bashful now. “Just, don’t leave me guessin’ no more.”

“Ion think I really ever left you guessin', but if I kissed you right now?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, fingers trailing up the side of his face, your palm settling gently against his cheeks. “Where would we go from there?”

Connie didn’t answer right away. His eyes searched yours, not just for permission, but for truth. For all the things you hadn't said yet. His breath hitched just slightly under your touch, his jaw tightening like he was holding back. “Ion think we’d stop,” his voice low. “Not this time.”

The space between you was barely there, the only thing keeping you apart was hesitation, and even that was slipping. His hand rose to cover yours on his cheek, his thumb brushing your wrist like he was trying to memorize the feel of you. “You kiss me,” he said slowly, “and I’m yours right now and forever.” 

And that’s when everything shifted. Like a thread that had been pulled too tightly for too long, finally gave way, unraveling years of what-ifs, stolen glances, almosts, and everything unsaid between you. You leaned in slowly, intentionally, and your lips finally met his.

Soft at first. But the second he realized it was real, that this was actually happening, Connie's hands flew to your cheeks, fingers curling around your jaw like he was scared the moment would disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

He kissed you like he'd been holding it in for years, because he had. Like every late-night call, every stupid argument, every ride around the block had been leading to this one moment.

His lips molded against yours. The heat of it wasn’t rushed, it wasn’t lustful, but something deeper. You could feel the way his chest rose and fell against yours, just a little too fast. His thumb brushed your cheekbone lovingly. Like you were something he never thought he'd get to touch again. You were his, and he was yours, and there was no undoing it now.

Connie had finally kissed the girl he’d been in love with since the first time he made her laugh, and it felt like the whole world stilled just to make room for it. 

Connie pulled back for a second, just barely his lips lingering inches from yours, breath shaky, eyes scanning your face like he needed to confirm this was real. His eyes searched yours, his eyes wide as if his brain was still catching up to what his heart already knew. You were here. You kissed him. After all these years.

His lips were slightly parted, swollen from the kiss, and his thumb brushed slowly along your bottom lip. And for a second, he just looked at you like he was trying to memorize the moment. And then something shifted in his eyes, awe.

His lips crashed back into yours, this time with no hesitation, no fear, just everything he’d ever wanted pouring into that kiss. It was deeper, needier, like he was trying to make up for every day he hadn’t said how he felt.

His fingers slipped into your braids as he tilted his head, pulling you closer, not just physically, but emotionally. Like he needed to feel every second of this.

You could feel the tension melting out of his shoulders. He wasn’t dreaming. He wasn’t imagining. This was happening. You were kissing him like he was the only thing in the world, and for him, you always had been.

Connie’s thumb rested delicately on your cheek, the rest of his fingers going gently along the side of your neck. His hand was warm, the pads of his fingers brushing over your skin with a tenderness that made your heart flutter.

He tilted your chin slightly, guiding your head just enough to give him access, and then, softly, slowly, he began to press kisses along the curve of your neck.

Slow, loving kisses pressed along the curve of your throat, each one sending a warm pulse through your body. You could feel his breath against your skin, shaky, like he couldn’t believe he was finally this close to you. Your scent was sweet, something he’d never forgotten, cause he could never forget.

“I’m so in love with you, Con,” you whispered, barely able to get the words out. Your breath hitched as another kiss landed just below your jaw. The weight of what you said hung between you, finally spoken aloud after years of silence, tension, and everything unsaid.

He stilled, just for a second. Then you felt his smile against your skin. “I love you too, mama.” His hand tightened ever so slightly on your neck, not rough, he leaned back just enough to meet your eyes, forehead brushing yours. “Been in love wit you.”

You didn’t say anything at first, just let the weight of his confession settle in your chest, warm and heavy. His breath mingled with yours, foreheads still touching, his eyes locked onto you, then, the breeze hit it was soft yet cool, brushing against your thighs.

You blinked, suddenly aware again of where you were still sitting out on the fire escape, the chill creeping in, the sounds of the city humming below. You glanced at him, your hands still resting on his chest. He felt it too.

You just couldn’t help yourself, you leaned in and pressed soft, fluttering kisses all over his face. His forehead, his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, even the corner of his mouth. You giggled quietly between each one, like your heart was full. Now, the boy you’d been in love with all those years ago was yours. Finally. And you couldn’t be happier.

Connie let out a low chuckle, his eyes fluttering shut as he soaked in the affection. “Damn, “You gon’ kiss the freckles off my damn face, huh?”, he mumbled, lips curving into a smirk, “Y’know I ain’t gon’ stop you, tho.”

“Shut up, Connie,” you said through a breathy laugh, your hand lightly smacking his chest. The warmth of his skin beneath your palm made you linger a little longer than you meant to. He didn’t even flinch, just grinned wider, all smug and satisfied like he knew exactly what he was doing to you

Connie let out a soft, reluctant sigh and brushed his knuckles along your jaw. “C’mon,” he whispered,“Let’s go inside.”

You didn’t need to ask where or why. The air had shifted into something thicker. You climbed off his lap carefully, legs a little unsteady.

Connie reached behind you to grab the half-eaten sandwiches and the empty Arizona cans, and the two of you stepped back through the window.

The quiet creak of the window shutting behind you was the last sound before everything went still. The room was dim, lit only by the small scattered lamps he had throughout his room, giving the walls a golden look, and Connie, standing there watching you, looked like something out of a dream you never let yourself believe in.

You sank down onto his bed, the sheets surprisingly soft beneath you despite the loud red-and-blue Spider-Man print stretching across them. You looked down, then up at him, a laugh slipping past your lips. “Can’t believe I’m ‘boutta let you fuck me on some Spider-Man bedsheets." 

He stepped in close, a smirk crawling across his lips as he stepped between your legs. “Spidey got Mary Jane, I got you. I think I won." 

Before you could say anything slick back, he caged you in, palms planting firm on either side of your thighs as he leaned in, his forehead brushing yours, heat radiating off his chest.

His lips found yours again, and this time the kiss was messy. Your tongues moved in tandem, breath catching between shared exhales. Like neither of you could get enough.

Your hands slipped up the back of his neck, fingers finding the short, overgrown curls at the top of his head. You played with the little bit of hair he had, tugging just enough to pull a low groan from deep in his throat.

Connie responded with his own grip, tightening his large hands, finding your neck, not in a rough way, but in that possessive kind of hold that said you’re mine now. His thumbs rested gently under your jaw, tilting your head up as he deepened the kiss, pulling you in closer like you still weren't in close enough.

You felt Connie’s lips press softly to your shoulder, a slow, lingering kiss that made your breath catch. Then another, just below your collarbone. His hands slid down your sides with a kind of touch that was gentle. He moved with intention, kissing his way lower, dragging his mouth along your stomach.

By the time he dropped to his knees in front of you, your thighs were already trembling slightly from the anticipation. He rested his cheek against one of them for a second, his breath warm on your skin, his fingers gripping your hips like he never wanted to let go.

He looked up at you, eyes low with something deeper than lust, his lips brushing your inner thigh. “Y’know I been waitin’ to have you like this, right?” voice thick with want but also had that soft, teasing tenderness only he could pull off.“Imma kiss every inch of you, mama. You mine now. Lemme show you.” Then he kissed the inside of your thigh so tenderly and full of love you could feel it in your chest.

His fingers played lazily with the hem of your shorts, rough fingertips brushing the soft skin of your thighs, slow like he was savoring the moment. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, still waiting for your go-ahead. He didn’t need words; you didn’t either. You gave him a small nod.

Connie suddenly paused. “Wait,” he muttered, breathless but grinning, and peeled himself away from you.

“Connie, what are you doing?” your brows furrowing as you blinked at him, your body still on fire from his touch. He had pulled away so suddenly that it left your skin feeling cold.

You sat up a little, watching as he went across the dim room, muscles flexing with every lazy step. The soft creak of the floorboards gave him away, even though his movements were light. He crouched by the corner, where the little black speaker sat beside his phone. 

The glow from his screen lit up his face as he squinted, thumb scrolling with calm, deliberate flicks. His lips curved into that smug little grin, one you’d known since middle school, and one you knew meant nothing good.

“I gotta set the mood,” he said, not even looking back, his voice dipping into that same damn playfulness that hadn’t left his voice once tonight, and it wasn’t about to now.

The speaker clicked on with a soft chime, and you could already hear the opening notes of something familiar. That deep bass thumped low through the room, and your eyes narrowed. “Connie.” 

He turned around slowly, already biting back a grin he couldn’t hold. “Pony” by Ginuwine pulsed through the tiny speaker, clear as day.

He started taking off his shirt like he was in some kind of striptease, dragging the fabric up slowly, his hips throwing in a ridiculous little sway. A grin plastered across his ridiculous face. “You like what you see,” he teased with a playful wink, rubbing his hands together like he was about to put on a whole performance.

You stared at him deadpan, unamused but clearly fighting a laugh. “Connie, hell na,” your voice flat with fake annoyance. You grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it at his chest.

The pillow hit him with a soft whump, knocking him off rhythm just enough to break his fake sultry pose. He stumbled back a step, clutching the pillow like it was a wound, grinning like a damn fool.

“Ight,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender, laughter bubbling in his throat. “You got it.” You just rolled your eyes, but the warmth on your face betrayed how much he was getting to you. The room felt stupid and safe. Just the two of you, Connie being Connie. And you both loving every second of it.

He got back on his knees in front of you, the soft thud of them hitting the floor nearly drowned out by the low beat of Ginuwine’s “Pony” still thumping through the little speaker in the background. His hands returned to your thighs, warm and steady, rubbing slow circles into your skin.

His touch was unhurried. You could feel the tension building in the space between his hands, in the way he kept looking up at you through half-lidded eyes, his mouth slightly parted like he was about to say something but didn’t.

You had to pause for a moment, the stupid song throwing you off, rolling your eyes, you reached over with one hand, grabbing his phone off the nearby nightstand. “Na, we not doin’ this,” scrolling through the Spotify with a small laugh. “We not finna be doing this to Pony, Connie.”

You tapped one of your old playlists, the kinda songs that felt like they had you and Connie in it. Connie watched you the whole time, the corner of his mouth twitching like he wanted to say something slick, but didn’t.

He just leaned in closer, resting his cheek lightly against your thigh for a moment like he was listening to the beat of your skin. Then he mumbled against your skin.“Relax. Lemme take my time. Ain’t no rush tonight.”

Connie’s fingers hooked into the waistband of your shorts, his touch unhurried as he dragged the fabric down your hips. You lifted your hips just slightly, making it easier for him to slip them off.

His eyes didn’t leave you, not once. When the fabric finally slid past your thighs, down your legs, and hit the floor, his gaze lingered at the center of your panties. A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Damn” 

His thumb brushed lightly over the obvious wet patch that had formed against the cotton. “You sure you wasn’t sittin’ in the car like this the whole time?” He raised a brow, his grin deepening.

You felt heat rush to your face and all over. Before you could even form a response, his thumb pressed down with the faintest pressure, just enough to draw a soft, involuntary whine from your lips.

Connie’s gaze flicked up, catching the sound. His eyes darkened as he leaned forward, placing a slow, small kiss right over the damp spot. His lips stayed there for a second longer than necessary.

“Connie, please…” Your voice cracked, your words came out soft and breathless. The anticipation had built so high, pooled too deep between your thighs. You were aching, throbbing in a way so desperate it made your fingers dig into the sheets without even realizing. 

Your body was already leaning into him, chasing his touch. Every time his fingers lingered too long, or his breath ghosted over your skin, it sent another ripple of frustration through your body.

“Stop takin’ your time,” you tried to say with firmness, but your need betrayed you. It didn’t come out like a demand. It came out like a plea. And Connie knew it. You were all bark, no bite, and he loved every second of it.

“C’mere then,” he said as he let himself fall back slightly, leaning onto the sofa chair behind him, his legs spread naturally. From where you were sitting, you could see the slight bulge pressing up against the fabric of his pants, impossible to miss. One of his hands moved instinctively, cupping himself, slow and needy, as his eyes dragged over you like you were something he’d been starving for.

“Sit right here. Lemme taste you right.” He ran his tongue slowly over his bottom lip, like he could already taste you. The look in his eyes darkened, pupils wide with hunger. He looked dangerous like this, like the second he had you on his face, he wasn’t going to let up. Not until you were trembling. Not until he got everything he wanted.

You’d never seen this side of Connie before. It caught you off guard, in the most intoxicating way. The boy who was usually all jokes and shit-talking, who laughed with his whole chest and made every moment feel lighter, was now looking at you with something darker but still had that look that made your stomach flip, and your skin burn. His voice wasn’t as playful as you were used to, and hearing him speak like that? It was making your head spin.

You didn’t move at first, you were frozen in the moment, your breath caught. “C’mon, love,” he spoke again. “You gon’ make me beg for it?” That last word to leave his mouth was a small “please” which left his mouth like it was pulled from somewhere deep.

The shift in him was the perfect balance between dominance and desperation, and it was fucking with your head. You didn’t know whether to melt into the mattress or crawl right into his lap.

You rose slowly from the bed, your legs carrying you on instinct more than thought. The room felt thick with tension, every step drawing you deeper into it. You walked over to where he was, your feet soundless against the hardwood floor, until you stood between his spread legs right where he wanted you.

The look in his eyes was enough to make your knees wobble. “Maybe I will,” you said, the words leaving your mouth with a tease, though they faltered just slightly as his hands found your waist.

He pulled you in immediately, strong arms wrapping around you, holding you there like he didn’t want you to go anywhere. His head tilted back to look up at you, lips brushing your skin as he spoke.“You know I'm in so so love with you, right?” he murmured into the softness of your plump thighs,

"'Cause I’m ’bout to fuck yo’ shit up.”The way he said it made your breath hitch. “Take ’em off,” eyes on the last piece of clothing between you and him.

His fingers hooked into the sides of your panties, gripping the soft fabric like he owned it. His touch was rough enough to make you take a deep breath to try to calm yourself down.

But you didn’t. Instead, your lips curved into the faintest smirk, that same teasing glint sparking in your eyes as you looked down at him. “How ’bout you take ’em off?”

His eyes darkened, jaw flexing once like he had to stop himself from dragging you down right then and there. The control in his expression cracked just a little. You loved being the reason for it. “Bet,” and just like that, his hands slid lower with a hunger that made your stomach flip.

Your panties slipped off with ease, the soft fabric gliding down your thighs before pooling at your ankles. You stepped out of them slowly, the air cool on your exposed skin, making you shiver every inch of you felt hyperaware, your heart beating so loud it almost drowned out the quiet music in the background.

Connie’s hands moved with a lazy kind of confidence, fingers curling around the delicate cotton like it was nothing and everything at the same time. His eyes didn’t leave your body as he bunched the fabric in one hand, then, without breaking eye contact, slipped it casually into his pocket.

Your breath caught, lips parting slightly. “Connie, I’ma bout to fuck you up,” heat curling in your belly at the same time.

His grin spread, “What?” he said, “I gotta keep ‘em for memory.”

“Now sit.” His tone shifted so suddenly, leaving no room for games. Something in you responded instantly, like your body knew to react before your mind could catch up.

You moved forward slowly, heart pounding, knees sinking into either side of his head. Connie leaned back into the plush lounge chair, his hands finding your hips, then gliding down to your ass, kneading the flesh, which made your skin burn.

“I got you.” his palms went up your thighs, steadying you. You hovered just barely above his face, nervous despite the heat pooling low in your belly. You didn’t want to hurt him, didn’t want to press your full weight down, even though every part of him was telling you to. Then came his voice again, rougher now, “All the way, mama.”

His fingers dug a little deeper into your flesh, pulling you closer.  “Don’t hover. I want you to sit. Suffocate me if you need. I'll die a happy man." Your chest rose with a sharp inhale, and you realized it wasn’t just want in his voice, it was need.

You actually sat this time, you let yourself settle onto him fully, the heat of his mouth meeting you head-on. Your thighs caged his head in, and your hands flew to the armrests of the chair, gripping them like your life depended on it.

The first flick of his tongue made your whole body jolt, his tongue dragged up your slit in a way that had your thighs trembling around his head.“F-fuck~” you whimpered. Your nails clawed into the cushion beneath, as your hips jerked forward on instinct.

Connie groaned low in response, like he tasted that reaction and got high off it. The sound vibrated through you, buzzing against your clit in a way that made your hips twitch.

His tongue was relentless, dragging up and down your slit in long, deep strokes. Every pass was firm, like he knew exactly where to hit to make your stomach tighten.

Then he shifted slightly, his mouth closing around your clit, tongue circling the sensitive bud before sucking gently, then harder, lips locking into place like he wasn’t letting go until you broke apart in his mouth.

“I can’t,” your voice barely more than a breath. The pleasure was overwhelming, your nerves burning in the best way. “Con, it’s too much.” Your fingers tried weakly to push yourself up, your thighs trembling, you didn’t even know if you were pulling away from the pleasure or chasing relief from how good it was, but either way, Connie wasn’t having it.

His hands gripped your hips tighter, just enough to keep you there. “Let me have you,” he murmured against you, his voice coated in need. He looked up through his lashes, his lips glistening, eyes needy. “I need you, baby. Please.”

The desperation in his tone cracked something in you. You felt it in your chest, in your gut, in the way your thighs locked tighter around his head without meaning to. His fingers dug a little deeper to hold you close. And then his tongue was back on your clit, his mouth dragging you closer to that breaking point with every pass of his tongue.

His tongue moved up and down your slit like he’d memorized every inch of your body, like every flick and drag was mapped out in his mind, hitting spots you didn’t even know you had. It was overwhelming, the way he devoured you.  

You let yourself come undone, unraveling in Connie’s mouth. Every word, every groan, every flick of his tongue dragged you deeper until there was nothing left but need. “connn.”

Your fingers ached from how tightly you were gripping the arms of the lounge chair. You couldn’t take it anymore, your body moved on instinct.

Hips rolling, as you began to rock your cunt against his face, slowly at first, then with growing desperation. The heat of his mouth was too much and not enough all at once. Connie’s hands slid down, gripping your ass to guide your rhythm, grounding you to him like he didn’t plan to let you go.

You could feel him mumbling something against your pussy, the words so incoherent that you couldn’t make out a single one. Swallowed by the wet sounds between your thighs and the gasping noises that left your lips. Still, you didn’t need to hear them as just the vibration of his voice sent shivers running up your spine.

All you could understand was want. No, need. The overwhelming, aching need to cum was building so fast it felt impossible to breathe. Every movement, every swipe of his tongue, every squeeze of his hands was pushing you closer, dragging you to the edge.

Your thighs shook around his head, your fingers clutching the armrests like they were the only thing keeping you grounded in this moment. You were right there, it was so close it hurt.

The corners of your eyes had tears welling from the sheer intensity of it all, the pleasure building so high, everything else was thrown out of your mind. “F-fuck, Connie, I-” The words tumbled out. You couldn’t even finish the sentence, your mind was too full of him.

The rhythm of your hips faltered, grinding against his mouth in desperate strokes. You were losing it. Each movement was messier than the last, chasing a release so close it felt like it was right there. Your body teetered, you were trembling, your mouth parted, silent moans falling out.

Connie pulled back for just a second, the sudden absence of his mouth making you whine instinctively, your hips twitching forward in protest. Your breath hitched, eyes flickering to his dazed confusion until you met his gaze.

“Look at me when you cum.”The glint in his eyes was wild, like he already knew he had you on the edge. Then, without another word, he dove back in, tongue lapping as if making up for the pause.

You started moving, grinding your soaked cunt back against his face, messier and even needier now. But your eyes stayed on him, just like he told you to. You watched him watch you, his eyes never leaving yours. 

It had your stomach twisting in tight, aching knots, the pressure building so fast it felt unbearable. Your whole body trembled, legs shaking around his head, and the way you were grinding had gone slow.

You were unraveling so fast, chasing release like it was the only thing keeping you breathing. Connie’s hands tightened around your hips, guiding you to move faster refusing to let you hold back.

The tears were falling freely now, vision blurring as the pleasure had blurred everything else. Then it hit, a loud groan ripped from your throat as you came, hips jerking, thighs clenching around his head, your release soaking his face. You slumped forward, gasping.

Connie slowed the movement of his tongue, easing the pressure in soft, steady licks as your body trembled above him, letting you come down at your own pace. Your chest was rising and falling. Your body felt heavier now.

Connie had that glint in his eye that made your stomach twist all over again. His lips were wet, jaw slick with you, glistening as his is grin was just a little too satisfied. The sight of it made your face burn, and you shifted, flustered, trying not to shy away.

“Why you actin’ all shy? Memba the way you was fuckin’ my face a few seconds ago?” his voice rough, “Takin’ it so well f’me. You made a fuckin’ mess.” His tongue darted out, and slowly he ran his tongue over his lips like he didn’t want to waste a drop.

Then, without warning, he pulled you forward until you were trembling against his mouth. His lips placed a soft kiss on your clit like he wasn't ready to let you go just yet. But he did. 

Connie exhaled, licking his lips one last time before slipping his arms from around your thighs and standing up in front of you. His chest rose and fell,  glistening, while the warm light caught everything. He looked at you like he wanted to ruin you all over again. 

“Y’good?” His voice was low, gentle even, his eyes were scanning your face like he was trying to get the answer just from your face alone. There was something you couldn’t ignore anymore. Maybe it had always been there, and you were just too blind to see it before.

You nodded slowly, still catching your breath, and a soft, knowing smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Good,” He brought your hand down between you, guiding it to the thick bulge straining against his boxers.

It was so hard and impossible to miss. Your fingers curled instinctively around it, and Connie’s breath hitched slightly at the contact.“You feel that? That’s what you do to me.” his voice deeper, not having that same gentleness that was in it before.

“Lie down.”Connie’s voice was calm but firm, the kind of tone that made your stomach flip and your thighs press tighter together. His gaze never left you, leaving no room for argument.

But you didn't budge, you didn't want to lie down, not yet. Not when his lips were still slick with you. Not when he had worshipped you with his mouth. And not when your palms were now wrapped around the thick heat of him, your fingers brushing the outline through his briefs, feeling just how hard he was, feeling just how much he wanted you.

“Let me take care of you,” You sank down onto your knees looking up at him through your lashes, stubbornness written all over your face.

He didn’t answer right away. Just watched you. Jaw tight. Adam’s apple bobbing like he had to swallow something back. You could feel the tension radiating off of him. The way his muscles flexed under your touch. The way his hand twitched at his side, you drove him insane he wanted to be inside you so bad

You kissed just above his waistband, dragging your lips slowly across the warm skin, then down, feeling him jump slightly under your mouth. He was so hard now that it almost hurt to look at.

You slipped your fingers beneath the band of his jeans and boxers tugging  them down, letting them fall to his ankles. The second he was free, his cock sprung up toward his stomach he was thick, the brown tip leaking precum. You felt him throbbing in your hand.

You could hear the small hitch in his breathing, the low sound of him muttering “fuck” under his breath like he was genuinely losing composure for the first time tonight.

You leaned forward, your tongue tracing the underside in one slow, deliberate stroke that had him already going insane. You licked from the bottom of his tip all the way to leaking tip. “F-fuck, mama, please,” his voice cracking just a little. “Don’t tease, please I need to be in you so bad right now.”

It took everything in him, every last shred of control, to reach down and gently tangle his fingers into your hair. He gave a soft tug, enough to pull you off him with care, not force. Your mouth released him with a wet little pop, the absence making both of you shudder for different reasons.

Your brows furrowed immediately, confusion and a little protest in your expression as you looked up at him. Lips swollen, eyes glassy, spit still connecting your lips to the tip of him.

But Connie looked ruined and you hadn’t even done anything yet, “Please,” he rasped, his voice wrecked like it was caught in his throat. “Lemme be in you.” His thumb brushed your cheek, so softly so tenderly but his eyes were anything but, they were dark, soaked in years of want they looked as if they were just pleading for you to say yes.  “Been thinkin’ ‘bout this for years, baby. Please.”

Connie pleading with you did something to you, everything really. He looked so good like that, desperate, eyes wide, pupils dilated, his voice wrecked. The way Connie begged. It was hot in a way that made your whole body throb. You couldn’t get enough. You got up slowly, eyes locked with his, and a soft, breathless “Ok” left your lips.

“I’m not gon make you wait another second.” Your voice was still laced with that same softness you always gave him, the kind that melted him from the inside out.

Then your tone dropped into something deeper, needier as your palms squeezed his skin now. “Fuck me Connie.” 

Just those three words shattered any restraint Connie had left in him. Connie was on you in seconds. The moment he processed those words, it was like a switch flipped. His hands gripped your waist, dragging you toward the center of the bed like he couldn’t get inside. 

Your thick thighs sank into the mattress, the sheets warm beneath you from the heat of everything that had already happened. You could feel the steady thrum of your own heartbeat in your ears, in your chest, everywhere, to be honest.

“I got you,” Connie whispered, voice softer than you’d ever heard it. His fingers found the hem of your shirt, his fingers slipping beneath it. You raised your arms without a word, letting him peel it off you slowly, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I know,” you whispered, your voice soft as your eyes met his. There was a quiet sparkle in your eyes, one that you never noticed yourself, but everyone else did. Especially when you looked at Connie. You were the calm to his chaos, you always had been. Since you were kids. And right now, looking up at him like this, it felt like every piece of that history, every laugh, every fight, every moment had led to this one.

Connie leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips once, then twice, then a third like he couldn’t help himself. His hands moved behind your back, fingers working with surprising ease as he unclasped your bra in a single motion. “Well damn nigga.” Your brows lifted, your face instantly scrunching as he tossed your bra to the side. “How many bras you been out here unhookin”

Connie shook his head, a low chuckle slipping past those lips of his. “You actin’ like I ain’t got skills. Don’t play wit’ me. These hands? Gifted.” He then threw his hands up in mock defense when he saw the deadpan look on your face, like you weren’t impressed in the slightest. 

“Only bra I ever wanted to take off was yours, anyway. He stepped in closer, his legs settling between yours. Then he leaned in, his hand on your chin, tilting your head slightly so his lips could begin kissing down the side of your neck.

Each kiss softer than the last, like he was making sure you could feel the ghost of every touch long after he pulled away. Like he wanted his mouth to linger even when he wasn’t there.

“Don’t be tryna get slick,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady, but the way your breath hitched on the last word gave you away.

Connie just smirked to himself clearly proud though it was clear he wasn’t in any kind of rush tonight. No matter how many times he claimed he needed to be in you so bad, he was moving even slower and slower. Like he was trying to savor every second of this moment. Like he needed to memorize every sound you made.

His lips moved from the side of your neck to the middle of your throat, his warm breath hitting your skin before each kiss landed, making you twitch beneath him. Then lower down to your chest, his mouth grazing the top of your breasts. His hands trailed up your sides as he went, fingers spreading like he was trying to feel every inch of you all at once.

“I’m not.” His voice was low, barely more than a breath against your skin, then his lips closed around your nipple. A gasp broke from your throat as his tongue swirled around the sensitive bud, slow at first. Like he was testing you. Testing how much you could take. His mouth was warm and wet, every flick sending a ripple of pleasure straight through your chest, down your stomach, pooling between your thighs.

He sucked gently, then a little harder, his tongue tracing soft circles. One of his hands came up to cup your other breast, thumb brushing lazily across your other nipple, not wanting either to feel neglected. You arched into his mouth, your hands curling in the sheets as his tongue moved like he knew exactly how to unravel you.

“Fuck-Con, that feels so good.”He had your body trembling underneath him. He didn’t rush. Made sure you felt every little pull of his mouth and every swirl of his tongue.

The slick pop of his mouth pulling off your nipple made your breath hitch again. Connie glanced up at you through his lashes, a lazy grin tugging at his lips like he knew exactly what he was doing to you. “Dont stop, please.” 

Kissing his way across your chest before giving the other side the same treatment, it was messy, open-mouthed kisses, his tongue dragging. You could feel yourself getting worked up all over again, heat pooling between your legs. 

Connie still had his lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking soft and slow while his other hand worked over your other breast, massaging the sensitive bud with just enough pressure to make your toes curl. You were so caught up in all the heat that you didn’t even notice his hand slipping away from your breast.

It drifted lower, wrapping around the base of his cock. He groaned under his breath. The second his palm met his cock, it twitched in his grasp as he gave it a few slow strokes. His breath hitched against your skin like he was struggling to keep it together.

Then, without a word, he guided himself right to your entrance, letting his fat cockhead press against your soaked cunt. He didn’t push in yet. Only dragging his tip up and down your slit, slicking himself. “F-fuck, Con, please,” your voice breaking. “I need you.”

He didn’t answer at first. Not with words, anyway. At the same time, his mouth was still on your chest, his lips closing around your nipple again. He gave it one final, slow swirl of his tongue, then bit down lightly, just enough to make your hips jerk beneath him, a gasp tearing straight from your lungs.

Your whole body tensed, stretched tight with anticipation, the drag of his cock at your entrance making you ache from the inside out. Every part of you was screaming for him. Connie finally pulled back, his mouth glistening, eyes half-lidded with want. “You ready f’me, mama?” he rasped, voice trembling with restraint, still holding himself right there on the edge.

It took you strength you didnt even know you had in you to mumble a “Please.” It came out shaky and desperate, like you were hanging by a thread and he was the only thing keeping you there.

Connie’s cock kept dragging up and down your slit, the swollen tip catching on your clit every now and then just to make your back arch and a whine slip out of your mouth. It was maddening, the slick sounds, the way your body clenched around nothing, aching to be filled.

You needed him inside you. Just as bad as he needed to be there, but he wasn't letting up. “Huh? Whatchu said?” A grin spread wide across Connie’s face. “Imma need you to speak up f'me, love.” That stupid smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, the kind that always meant trouble. 

But he was slipping as well, you could tell by the way his jaw clenched every time your hips bucked, the way his hand flexed tighter around the base of his dick as he kept sliding it through your folds over and over, it was driving him crazy, too.

He wasn’t just teasing you. He was torturing himself as well, but he loved it. Loved how you looked beneath him, squirming, whining, your thighs twitching every time he rocked against your clit just right.

But what he loved more was the way your face turned, the way your brows furrowed, how your lips parted like you were about to say something but couldn’t. Like you were trapped between begging and breaking.

Connie leaned in just a little, his breath brushing your ear.“You look too good like this, baby. Gotta make it last.”

“Connie, you can literally feel how fuckin’ wet I am.” The irritation was bubbling in your voice, not because of him, kinda, but not really, but because he had you waiting so long you were losing your damn mind. 

“Just put it in.” Your tone cracked at the end. Your fingers curled against his arms, nails digging in lightly like you were trying to ground yourself. “Please,” you added, quieter now. The word slipped out, so needy, and it completely wrecked him.

The ‘please’ did it. Connie’s whole body tensed like he’d just been hit in the chest. His smirk faltered for a split second just long enough to see the way your eyes pleaded up at him, how your thighs trembled, how you were barely holding yourself together. “Yea I know, I ain’t even slide in yet and you already leakin’ all over me.”

He leaned in closer, chest brushing against yours, his lips ghosting over your mouth without kissing you yet.“That's crazy baby.” You could feel how hard he was, twitching between your legs, the head still dragging slow, taunting strokes through your slick folds.

He ultimately waited one more beat, just long enough to make your breath hitch again before finally pushing into you.

It wasn’t fast or rushed, he took his time. You could feel every inch as he stretched you open, thick and heavy, dragging along your walls like he was carving himself into you. The pressure felt so good, making your back arch and your nails dig into his skin like you needed something, anything to hold onto.

Your head fell back against the pillow as the fat head of his cock eased past your folds. A deep, guttural sigh left your lips, your eyes fluttering as you took him inch by inch. “F-fuck” you exhaled, barely able to catch your breath. This was it. The moment you’d been aching for all night. And it was everything.

Your walls instinctively clenched, trying to adjust to the thickness of him, but it was no use, he stretched you out brutally, filling you up, and he wasn’t even all the way in yet. You could feel every twitch of him inside you, and the heavy drag of his veins pressing against your walls. 

“Y’good?” Connie’s voice came out more strained than usual, like it took everything in him not to bury himself deeper into you. His jaw was locked tight, the muscles flexing as he tried to hold himself back, for you, to let you adjust.

Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his, your lashes wet. The look on his face nearly undid you. His brows furrowed, lips parted, eyes dark but still so soft with you. Your face twisted from the stretch, that kind of pleasure that hurt in the best way, and you gave him a small, shaky nod.

“Lemme hear you.” His eyes never left your face, watching every twitch of your face, every shudder your body made, and every small sound that left your parted lips

“S’good.” Your eyes were already half lidded, face fucked out, and he hadn’t even done much yet. “Deeper.” you said and who was Connie to deny you when you looked at him like that? He didn’t waste another second. His hips rolled forward, slow at first, letting you feel every inch before finally sinking all the way in.

He didn’t move yet, just stayed buried deep inside you, he wanted you to feel every part of the stretch he was giving you, but it was going to drive you insane. It made you hyperaware of every inch of him you clenched around him taking a deep breath to steady yourself.

“You feel that?” He took your hand guiding it down to your lower stomach pressing your palm right where he was filling you up, and the weight of it made your breath hitch. His pupils were blown wide, like he was barely holding himself together. He looked unhinged in the best way. 

“I asked a question.” His voice dropped lower when he said it. His thumb slid down pressing deliberately against your clit. Just enough pressure to make your hips twitch beneath him. He still didn’t move inside you and that was the worst part.

He stayed seated deep, keeping you stretched around him while his thumb began slow, lazy circles. Each pass made your breath hitch, making your fingers curl against the sheets. “Answer me,” he watched your face twitching.

“Yes,” you breathed out, voice already breaking. “Of course I feel it.” His thumb pressed a little firmer, drawing a soft gasp from your lips, your back arching off the mattress.

The stimulation was almost too much with him already buried inside you, the pressure building low in your stomach. “Now please,” your fingers slid up his arms, nails grazing his skin like you needed something to hold onto. “Just fuck me, Connie.”

The last part came out softer than you meant it to. Needier. Desperate in a way that made his jaw tighten. But he didn’t slam into you. Not yet. Instead, he pulled almost all the way out, slow enough to make you feel the drag before pushing back in just as slow. “I gotchu baby.” 

Your mouth fell open, a quiet gasp slipping out before you could stop it. The first slow roll of his hips made your fingers tighten against his skin. The next one deeper. And the one after that somehow felt like it went even deeper. 

His movements were deliberate, like he was savoring every second. The slow rhythm was torturous in the best way, making your body ache for more. You could feel the heat pooling low the tight coil in your stomach getting tighter with each slow thrust.

“Look at me,” You tried your best to meet his eyes, and when you did, you could see the hunger in his eyes. Fuck, he looked so damn sexy.  

“You look beautiful, mama. Fuck,” he breathed out as he leaned down, planting soft kisses along your neck. 

“You look good too, Con, ” you whispered back, breathless. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him as close as you could. 

Then, suddenly, his pace shifted, still slow, but deeper now. Each movement, he dove harder, hitting you in all the right places. You clenched around him, gasping as he hit your sweet spot again and again. “Conniee~.” 

His lips found yours, soft at first, then rougher, more demanding. You parted your mouth instinctively, and his tongue slid inside. The kiss deepened, becoming messier as he continued hitting that spot inside you.

A low, grunt rumbled from deep in his throat, vibrating against your lips. You moaned into the kiss, your breath hitched. 

“You squeezin’ ‘round me, so tight, baby,” his voice thick with need. He pounded into you harder, each thrust diving deeper, making your nails sink into his skin.  

Your body trembled beneath him, nails digging deeper. “Tell me how good you feel.” He didn’t let up, each thrust harder than the last. "I wanna hear you." 

You gasped, voice breaking, “S'good, Connie, don’t stop.” 

His thumb found your clit again, circling your clit  that sent shivers racing through you. Your back arched off the bed. “Connn."

“You like that, baby? Needa feel you cum all over me.” his thumb circling your clit faster now, rubbing with more precision as his hips slammed deep and hard inside you. You felt your whole body tighten "Gonna cum f'me?"

“C’mon, baby,” he urged, his voice like a man barely holding himself together. “You’re almost there, mama, I feel it.”

“I’m close,” your breath shaky Just a few more circles of his thumb, and you were almost there. 

“Come on baby, you’re doing so good for me,” he praised. 

Then it hit you  your muscles jerked around him as you cried out, “Ughh~.” But his fingers didn’t stop. “Fuck,” you moaned, 

“I’m almost there, baby,” he said, speeding up his thrusts, his hips pounding with more urgency. While his fingers kept working your clit, “One more f'me? Can you do that?”

“I dont know,” your voice cracked, sounding desperate as the words left your mouth.  Connie was driving you insane, you felt so sensitive.

"You can, baby, you can." His thumb pressed harder, making a soft whine leave your lips. His hips slammed back into you. All Connie wanted was to see you cum all over his dick again. He could watch that a thousand times over.

"I'm so close," you breathed, voice trembling. It hurt so good you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

As Connie neared his own release, his body tensed, You could feel, the way his breath hitched and his jaw clenched. He tried to hold back the small whimpers escaping him, but you heard every one and they only made you clench around him harder.“You’re driving me crazy,” 

“Fuck,” you both gasped, cumming at the same time. Your back arched off the bed as your whole body jolted, your walls clamping down around him, you squirted, the liquid covering his dick and soaking the sheets beneath you. Your thighs shake as your grip on him tightens.

“You tryna kill me.” he groaned, voice wrecked, barely holding on. He buried himself deep inside you, his body tensing the ropes of his cum filling you so you felt warm and full, you could feel the small twitches of his dick inside you as his cum leaked out of you.

For a second, neither of you moved. Connie stayed right there, still buried inside you, his chest rising and falling against yours. His forehead rested against your shoulder, his grip on you loosening just slightly but not letting go. And for a second, it feels like way more than just sex.

He let out a slow breath against your skin, his thumb brushing along your waist, pressing small kisses into your skin.

“You can squirt!?” he looked at you with wide eyes, shocked and impressed all at once.

“Shhh, your people's sleeping,” you laughed, smacking his forehead lightly, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“ight, ight,” he chuckled, still smiling mad hard. “So, how was that?” His hand stayed on your thigh as he slowly started to pull out. The feeling made you exhale softly, your body still sensitive from everything. “It was good.”

For a second, neither of you said anything, just looked at each other, Then he leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. Once. Twice. Then a third, each softer than the last.

“Yea?” a smile spread across his face. “I’m glad.”

“I’ma be right back,” he added, brushing his thumb along your cheek before getting up.

You watched him disappear into the bathroom, the sound of running water filling the space for a moment. When he came back out, he had a warm washcloth in his hand.

Without saying much, he climbed back onto the bed. “He was quieter now, more focused as he gently wiped you down. Who would’ve thought that could happen?”  

It made your chest tighten in the best way. You couldn’t help but smile at him. 

“Why you lookin’ at me like that?” he asked, squinting.

“Like what?”

“Like you in love or some shit.”

You laughed, turning your head. “Boy, shut up.”

[conniesdurag]

We can tell when you use ai for your writing btw 😭😭💔💔if you dk how to write good that’s fine bro don’t pollute fanfiction with that NONSENSE

[conniesdurag]

hey so like are there any black writers that write for Johnny Lawrence I’m like feining right now EVEN AO3 IS EMPTY YALL PLEASE 💔💔do I need to come out of retirement like

[nobitchs-world]

When you’re reading a fic and the writer starts being misogynistic randomly

(Mind you most of the time the writers be girls)

[mayaromii]

.ᐟ ⋆˚ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴀᴡ ɪɴ ᴍᴇ ࿔

synopsis: suguru has his mind made up, but you can't let him go down this path, or at least not without saying goodbye .ᐟ

contents: hidden inventory arc suguru x reader, angst!, angry love confession (ish). sashisu dynamics, canon adjacent

the first sign they’re back is the noise.

“you’re exaggerating,” satoru says, voice carrying long before he does.

“i’m not,” suguru replies, “you didn’t need to bring the entire wall down.”

“it was already falling.”

“it wasn’t.”

you don’t look up from where you’re sitting. across from you, shoko doesn’t bother hiding her sigh.

“sixty-seven minutes,” shoko mutters. “that’s how long it’s been quiet.”

you let out a small smile, as they round the corner. satoru looks exactly how you’d expect. uniform slightly out of place, expression bright, like whatever just happened was more entertaining than exhausting. suguru emerges from behind him, composed as always.

“you’re late,” you call.

“awww, what’s wrong, ladies? missed us?” satoru teases, as shoko rolls her eyes, “blame him,” jerking a thumb toward suguru. “he wanted to ‘handle it properly.’”

“i did handle it properly,” he snapped back

you try focusing on your work while the two bicker in the background.

soon, the bickering stopped, and suguru quietly took a seat beside you.

you tilt your head slightly. “bad one?”

he pauses, “not particularly,”

satoru butts in “it was easy.”

shoko snorts. “for you, everything’s easy.”

“exactly,” he replies. “glad you’re catching on.”

you barely hear him, you’re watching suguru.

there’s a brief moment where his gaze shifts not to you, not to any of you, but somewhere past, like he’s still half in it.

and just like that, it’s gone.

“did we miss anything?” he asks instead.

“nothing exciting,” you say. “shoko threatened to leave if you didn’t come back soon.”

“ah so nothing new,” he exhales softly, something closer to a real smile finally settling in. he shifts to sit closer to you, close enough that it feels familiar.

“you should’ve come,” he adds. “would’ve made it faster.” as shoko and satoru start arguing about something again, you tune them out as they fall back into it, leaning your head on suguru’s shoulder as their voices overlap in a weirdly comforting way.

“fine whatever, i’m not arguing with someone that looks like a genderbent elsa” shoko says,

“WHAT’S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN??” satoru snaps back, riling up a whole new argument

you let out a snort, glancing over at suguru.

he’s quiet again. not withdrawn, not distant, just… thinking.

“sure it was easy?” you ask, low enough that only he hears.

he looks at you.

for a second, you think he might say something real. something honest.

but then he smiled, small, practiced, “of course,” he says.

and because it’s him,

you let it go.

“alright,” you sigh, pushing yourself to your feet. “how about you two continue this over lunch, before satoru starts complaining again?”

“he already started,” shoko points out, heading to the door already.

suguru lingers for half a step before falling in beside you.

by the time you’re outside, the air feels different.

and by the time the four of you start walking, the moment has passed. ── .✦

satoru had peeled off halfway down the hall, still talking about food like he hadn’t just eaten, dragging shoko along with him despite her very clear lack of interest. their voices fade soon after, leaving you alone.

it had always been the four of you. the three of them were your getaway, your rock, your sanctuary. it always felt so easy with them.

more importantly, it had always been suguru. there is definitely something there, though neither of you would ever admit it, and between the lingering touches, and the comfortable silence, you really don’t have to, or at least that’s what you tell yourself.

you don’t slow down when you hear the footsteps catching up behind you; you don’t need to. a second later, he’s there, right beside you, like it’s something long decided. neither of you say anything at first, which wasn’t new between the two of you, but today, your thoughts are too loud.

you keep replaying it. small things, stupid things. subtle ways he looks at you, talks to you. it can’t be all in your head, right? It shouldn’t matter, but it does anyway.

“…you’re walking faster.”

you blink, glancing sideways at him.

“i’m not.”

“you are.”

“you’re imagining things.”

“i’m not.”

there’s no bite to it, just certainty.

“…even if i was, so what?”

suguru hums softly, like he’s considering that.

“nothing,” he says. “just means something’s bothering you.”

you let out a small sigh. “you don’t miss anything, do you?”

“not when it comes to you.”

the words land too easily. like they didn’t cost him anything to say. it can’t be all in your head, right?

you shake your head lightly, like you can brush it off. “it’s nothing serious.”

“no c’mon, lay it on me,” he said, genuine interest in his eyes.

that’s how it was with you two. genuine.

you consider telling him, really going off at him, but eventually decide to let it just fall silent.

“can i ask you something?” he finally says, realising you aren’t going to talk.

“mhm”

“is all of this worth it?” he finally said

“what?”

“you know,” he waves his hands around, “all of this. the exhaustion, the injuries, the weird hours, not to mention the taste.”

“i mean, yea i do think it’s worth it, we’re saving lives.”

“lives of people that don't even notice”

“lives of people that can’t even notice,” you correct him. this wasn’t the first time he was questioning it all; the two of you had spent hours late at night talking about anything, and everything, but this was the first time he seemed this riled up.

“that doesn’t justify it though,” he continues, “just because they can’t, we have to?”

“yes actually, you can protect yourself; they can’t.”

“they are the reason the curse exists, though? and what about the sorcerers that have died because of all of this?”

“is this about haibara?” you say without thinking, realising as it was coming out of your mouth.

he takes a moment,

“i can name countless.”

it fell silent again. the two of you had been walking circles around campus, but it was obvious it was time to go now.

“i’m tired of all this,” he said finally

“suguru, you don’t mean that, you just had a rough day,”

“i don’t say things i don’t mean.”

and that you belive, is the problem.

.' ── .✦

the following months, he was what you could only describe as off.

he’d still hang out with you guys, just quieter than usual, less bickering. suddenly, it was all different, moving away his hand if yours grazed it, avoiding eye contact when you’re laughing about something shoko said to satoru, getting up just a moment earlier to avoid walking with you.

at first you thought he was acting like this with everyone, but then you realised it was different with you.

it always was.

sure he was a bit more distant than usual with everyone, but it was almost like he was avoiding you.

you’ve had arguments before, and you’ve definitely said worse things to him, but you’d be fine within a week, there’s something else.

if there's one thing you know about suguru, it’s that he doesn’t open up easily. there’s nobody he’d easily vent to, with the sole exception of satoru gojo, of course. so when you got to the park bench you usually meet at, and didn’t see suguru, you saw your opportunity and took it.

“has he mentioned me?” you say, glaring at satoru for an answer, “like at all.”

“who?” he asks, not looking up from the caterpillar that he found,

“suguru.”

he finally looks up, “no, i dont think so. anything wrong?”

“i knew there was something off between you two,” shoko butts in

off.

“so he’s completely normal with you guys?” your attention now directed to shoko more than satoru

“i mean, he’s a bit more distant than usual, but it’s nothing new, you just don’t notice because,” she thinks for a moment, trying to pick the right word “well,” she didn’t find it, but you got what she meant, you were never really someone he’d ignore. “though i would say, he’s quieter than his usual, even for him.”

“did something happen?” satoru asks, finally losing interest in the caterpillar now that there’s potential drama. “trouble in paradise?” he grins.

you hesitate.

“it’s weird. we were talking the day you two went on that mission, the one i sat out. he said he feels like this isn’t worth it anymore. we were going back and forth and,” you pause, throat tightening slightly. “i brought up haibara.”

“oh.” they say, almost in unison. everybody knew how haibara’s death affected him, how long he spent resenting the superiors for their negligence.

“i know it was shitty of me, i want to apologise but this is the longest he’s given me the silent treatment. he has every right to be mad at me but i know this has to be more than just that.”

there’s silence again, and not a comfortable one.

“there’s no getting suguru to talk,” satoru says finally. “when he’s like this, even i cant get him to talk.”

“you might just have to wait it out,” shoko adds, “where is he right now anyway?”

“think i heard someone mention he was with tsukumo,” satoru replied, now looking for the caterpillar again.

“yuki tsukumo? do you know where?” maybe you can corner him.

“I know what you're thinking. forcing him to talk isn’t going to do you any good,” shoko says, almost as if she read your mind. “just be patient, he’ll come talk to you on his own eventually.”

you sigh, figuring she’s probably right. you take a seat right between them, trying to focus more on the moment than on the thoughts in your head.

── .✦

over two weeks later, and nothing had changed. in fact, they might have just gotten worse. he had stopped hanging out with the group altogether. running into him became a near-impossible feat. even missions he was assigned to, radio silence, leading to satoru, shoko, and you having to cover for him in front of the superiors. the whole situation had you fucked up in a way you couldn’t explain, like a chronic daze you couldn’t get out of.

it was a plain saturday morning, and you had just gotten to your ritual of wallowing in self-pity, something you had gotten quite good at, when you got a text.

‘we’re going to town, around shinjuku.’

it was from shoko. she wasn’t the most lively texter, but this wasn’t her usual tone either. just by looking at it, you knew this wasn’t just her informing you; it wasn’t an invite either, it was an order.

you get there a bit late, and are met with shoko lighting up a cigarette, pocketing the lighter as she watches you walk up to her.

“i talked to suguru,” she started, you just quietly stood beside her, “well, more like he talked to me.”

“where is he right now? and satoru, too.”

and as if you called it into existence, you saw satoru walking up to the two of you, except he wasn’t smiling like usual; he looked distraught. if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he looked angry.

he stormed up, completely ignoring your presence.

“how long have you known?” he said, in a tone you've never heard from him.

shoko took another drag of her cigarette, just for satoru to snatch it right off her, throwing it aside.

“answer the question, dammit,” he said through gritted teeth.

“not long,” she said finally

“and you're okay with this?? you didn't try to talk him out or ANYTHING?” you had never seen him talk to anyone like this.

“does it seem like anyone could talk him out?”

“and you didn't try? didn’t even bother telling ANY of us?”

“like i said, i haven’t known that long. i wanted him to say goodbye in his own time-”

“what is going on???” you finally interrupt.

satoru turns his attention to you, just realising you're here. “that suguru of yours,” pointing into the crowd, “is leaving. he wants to kill all the non-sorcerers, and shoko here couldn’t care less,”

“that's not what i said!” she snaps back,

“where is he right now?” you ask, before this escalates.

“i don’t know. somewhere in the crowd. he just left,” gojo replies “shoko probably knows.”

“i don’t. and you know i don’t. you’re misdirecting your anger.”

you can tell this argument is going to blow, but you don’t have time for that; you’ve heard enough. without putting much thought into it, you run straight into the crowd, the sound of them shouting drowning out behind you more and more.

“how come everyone else got a goodbye?” you say in between pants, finally catching up to him,

he slowly turned around, “it’s nothing personal,” he said, composed, as always.

“that’s the problem.”

he sighs, “look-”

“no,” you cut him off, “don’t do that, don’t give me a half-assed excuse. i deserve more than that.”

he stared back at you.

“i don’t stand with your stupid, self-righteous philosophy, but clearly your mind is made up,” you started again, “but it seems like everybody got a proper see-off except me.”

“i see why you're mad,”

“i’m not mad,” you can’t help but cut him off again, “i’m insulted.”

he goes quiet again.

“it slipped my mind i-” he paused, like he expected you to butt in, “it’s quite hard to keep track of shit like that when i have bigger matters to attend to.” he wouldn’t even look you in the eye.

“slipped your mind? so that’s it? if i hadn’t chased you down right now, that would’ve been the end of our... friendship?” you pause, “or whatever we were, like what the hell were we? tell me we weren't just friends.”

“i don’t know what you want me to say,” he says finally, “and if you're so against me, and my ‘stupid philosophy’ then why do you even care so much?”

“because i worry about you, you know i do, and i have been trying to figure out what we were for a while now.”

“well do you care about me? because it sure as hell didn’t feel that way for the past few months. but theres no point now, is there? i guess i’m doing you a favour.”

“a favour?” you scoff, “you don’t think i wanted to check up on you? wanted to snap you back into reality? but you made it seem like you hate every fibre of my being, and right now, that doesn’t seem too far from the truth.”

“you’re taking this too personally,” he steps closer, “my decisions have nothing to do with you, so lay off.”

“so why have you been avoiding me? why have you grown so distant? why didn’t you tell me what was on your mind? and why didn't i get a goodbye?” your voice softened at that last part, but it doesn’t do much because you’ve been shouting for long enough to gather a crowd

“you’re reiterating, and quite frankly, i don’t have the time.”

“then just tell me why”

“because i love you,” he snapped “i didn’t want to say goodbye because i have loved you for such a painfully long time, that i knew i couldn’t handle seeing you disappointed in me. i don’t care about anyone else’s thoughts on the matter, but the thought of admitting to you that i can’t take this anymore..” he lets himself trail off, “but just because i couldn’t say it to you, doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”

there is silence again. you finally heard what you wanted to hear, but what was even the point?

“there has to be a better way to go about this,” you say finally.

“probably,” he shrugged, “but this is the way i chose. i didn’t expect it to go like this between us, but maybe when you talk about me, you can tell them what you saw in me, and not how i turned out to be.”

with that, he turned his back, and walked away. gone before his footsteps ever fully faded.

divider creds: @uzmacchiato

© MAYAROMII 2026. translating, plagiarizing, ai training and modifying in any way is prohibited. don’t repost on other platforms.

[conniesdurag]

yall im ngl i hate when i go through the *insert fandom/character* x black reader tag and i get excited and go to said writers page just for them to be non black 😭😭😭like i get y’all’s heart is in the right place sometimes but like don’t flood the tag with this 💔and they ALWAYS have overuse/misusage of aave in there like it js feels micro aggressive. idk that’s js me tho

[soapflavoredtea]

Standards — Yuji Itadori (1)

Chapter One: Failed First Impressions

Pairing: Yuji Itadori x Black Female Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Series Summary: After being scouted from abroad by the esteemed Yuuta Okkotsu, your once normal life takes many new turns as you learn to navigate the numerous issues that come with not only being a rookie sorcerer, but a Black girl in Japan.

Chapter Summary: Your first day in Japan is nothing short of eventful.

Content Warnings: Not beta read, so probably some typos

Series Masterlist

There were a plethora of ways you had expected your first day in Japan to go. Having spent fourteen hours on a plane that left you with nothing better to do than conjure up a list of everything that could go wrong, you were more than positive you had mapped out every scenario possible. Getting organ trafficked certainly wasn’t one of them but somehow ending up lost was–so the overlook canceled out.

The initial instructions given had been very straightforward. Exit the plane, find some guy named Ijichi, and the rest would be taken care of for you. So simple it was too good to be true. And it was.

When you had finally made it to the greeting area the said man was indeed there. Clad in a suit and tie holding a white sign that had your name neatly written in sharpie. He had been nice enough. Carrying your luggage to the vehicle and making small talk with you in English for the duration of the ride. However the problems started to arise when you had gotten to the destination. Prior to coming, you had never seen what Jujutsu High was supposed to look like, but you highly doubted it was the place you arrived at.

“We’re here,” Ijichi said, his thick Japanese accent lacing the words.

Your lips pursed.“This is the place?” There was nothing around safe from an abandoned looking building. If not for the cursed energy seeping out of it, the mucky green a big contrast from the light blue sky, you would’ve thought it was haunted. “And you’re sure?”

He nodded in response while he got out to open the car for you. Looking suspiciously apologetic as he did so. You made the mistake of putting your back to him while you gave the building another inspection. “So is this supposed to be the school or–”

The slamming of the car door followed up by the engine revving interrupted your sentence. It had taken you longer than a couple seconds to process what had just happened. And by the time you finally did the driver was long gone.

There was a nice bench that you deemed as a perfect spot to wallow in your shame and misery so you did. And now here you are, deserted somewhere in Japan with not even a dollar to your name and a dead phone in your pocket.

After a couple of moments you came to the conclusion that this had all been one huge organ trafficking scheme that you had fallen victim to. If you were to be knocked out in one moment and woken up in an ice bath the next–you wouldn’t even be that mad. Whatever crime syndicate that had been in charge of this operation deserved your kidneys as kudos. It was all so convincing. Like heck, they had even given you a whole uniform.

You just stared at the ground. Contemplating whether to curse Yuuta when you died, for putting you in this situation or Ijichi for getting you there. 

“Ah, there she is!”

The headlines were already forming in your head. Foreign high schooler goes missing because she was too dumb to realize she was getting scammed. You just hoped that the photo they used for your missing poster wouldn’t have you looking busted. Multiple pairs of footsteps were starting to draw closer and closer. This was really it for you.

You were too tired for any sense of panic to hit you so you sunk your head in defeat. Contemplating whether to curse Yuuta when you died, for putting you in this situation or Ijichi for getting you there. 

“—Helloo. Is anyone home?”

Your head slowly rose to the man who would be the culprit of your soon to be kidnapping slash murder. The guy was tall. It took quite a bit for your neck to crane to the point where you could get a full view of him. A blindfold and spiked snow white hair. Gojo. You had never met the man but basing off Yuuta’s many stories of him, there was no mistaking it. Next to him stood three teenagers, who all bore the same uniform as you. “She’s alive!”

Gojo gestured to you with jazz hands. “This is the last first year. [Last Name] [Name]. Per Yuuta’s recommendation she will be joining us. Isn’t that right, [Name]-chan~.”

The shock of today not being your last on Earth finally wore off. With a newfound appreciation of life you shot up to your feet. “Oh..um…yes,” you huffed out, the words for some reason coming out breathlessly which you accredited to the adrenaline. Yuuta and old faithful (Google) always told you that bowing was a common custom in Japan, so now would probably be a better time than any to do it. “Please…please take care of me?”

You could feel the trio staring down at you. Their silence to your introduction only proving your gut feeling right and that you had probably done something wrong. If it wasn’t for the fact you were Black your face would’ve been the deepest shade of red of all time. The cramping in your back was growing by the second.

“[Last Name]...you can get up now,” a stoic voice spoke.

“Right,” you coughed out, straightening up. A ‘pft’ broke through the silence. The source being from the salmon haired boy that was miserably failing to hold in a laugh. Hoping you left a better impression on the one other girl in your group, your attention shifted to her—who’s expression more or less mirrored his. The last first year wasn’t looking at you. You were unsure of how to take that but chances were it wasn’t good.

Well shit.

A pair of hands found a home on their shoulders and shook you back and forth with a gentle playfulness. “What are you guys waiting for,” Gojo asked, “introduce yourselves to your new classmate!”

“Fushiguro Megumi,” the stoic voice from earlier said. Still barely giving you a glance.

The one with a red hood pointed to himself, “I’m Itadori Yuji.”

"Kugisaki Nobara,” the sole girl started, “glad to see this group won't be too unfortunate now that there's another woman."

Whatever was said by your teacher after you didn’t catch, only something about a curse, before Kugisaki and Itadori started making their way into the worn-down building. You were about to (reluctantly) follow suit before Gojo teacher called out to you.

 "Kugisaki Nobara, glad to see this group won't be too unfortunate now that there's another woman," she proudly declared.  

"Oh, [Name] you're fine you don't have to go in," Gojo assured, beckoning you over to where he and Fushiguro were sitting, which was the bench you had previously been at.

It didn't take long before you started zoning out again during another one of your teacher's rambles. The jet lag was finally starting to hit you and you couldn't even be bothered to translate his little lecture on jujutsu sorcery. 

"-me] is plenty crazy, well at least from what Yuuta has told me. Though I do eventually want to test it out for myself I know you're tired from the flight so I'll give you a pass today." He said gleefully, giving you a thumbs up.

“Thank you?”

At the mention of your name you perked up quickly replying with a nod, "Speaking of Okkotsu-senpai, how is he?" The first year asked.  

“From last I saw he’s doing well. His eye bags have probably gotten worse since then.”

Shattering glass rang out and a curse was escaping out one of the windows.

"I'll exorcise it," Fushiguro said, standing up ready to fight. 

Gojo waved him off, "Wait." At his words the once flying curse was hit by a few nails before incinerating into thin air. "Nice, she's crazy all right." 

“Um Gojo…sensei. Not to be rude but when are we heading back to the dorms?” You asked.

“Soon,” he replied with a smirk. You hoped he meant actually soon and not your parent’s version that would be three hours later. Seeing the two first years finally exit the building with a little boy a couple moments after, it was good to see he was talking in a literal sense. While your classmates took the elementary schooler back to his house you moved to a set of stairs so you wouldn’t be too far from them. It’d be a lie to say that you weren’t still a bit on edge about being in a new country. 

"Did you know that I get into a foul mood when I'm hungry?" You jumped at the sudden voice not even noticing when Kugisaki and Itadori joined you at your space on the steps. 

"Well we made sure the kid got home so let’s grab some food!” Gojo said. 

"Steak!"

"Sushi!" 

"Leave it all to me! And you [Name]? Megumi?" Fushiguro ignored him, too busy scrolling through his phone to acknowledge his teacher. 

"As long as I don’t have to pay, I’m fine with whatever," you yawned. 

"Okay, let's go!"

After another one of Itadori and Kugisaki's arguments the four of you happily agreed on steak joint, much to Fushiguro's dismay, and were now heading to it. All the boys were walking in the front leaving you with the brunette in the back. It was painfully silent between the two of you. Neither bothering to take the first step in killing the awkward moment.

"So-" 

"[Last Name], right? I like your," she made a gesture at her own bob," hair. It's really pretty."

At the unexpected compliment you grinned,"Thanks, yours too." 

"How tacky do you think the dorms are gonna be?"

[amalainse]

──── dirty deeds done dirt cheap. 7.1k

BRAT TAMER GETO SUGURU X BLACK FEM READER

Your boyfriend suggests cuckolding. In your mind, you're expecting a weird looking man with weird sexual tendencies and dick game worse than your boyfriend's. You couldn't be more wrong.

tags. modern au • cuck (er?) geto • brat-tamer geto • brat reader • filming • sexually inexperienced reader • the importance of foreplay • heavy praise kink • heavy petting • fingering • multiple orgasms • dumbification • crying • rough sex • a hint of soft degradation

100 brownie points for whoever can tell me what the title of this fic is referencing 🎤

Your boyfriend putters aimlessly around the bedroom. You roll your neck, chugging down on a bottle of water. The plastic crinkles loudly in your hand.

The ceiling has a weird stain. It's your first time noticing it. You really hope it isn't mold, because that's exactly the sort of thing life would throw your way. As if everything isn't already hectic enough.

There's a kissed pressed to your cheek. "Was that good?" Your boyfriend says, tugging his jeans back up. His belt clinks loudly and the sound grates on your ears.

"Mhmm" You faked every fucking moan.

Jiro, your boyfriend, isn't actually all that bad. A little tamer than what you're used to. But maybe boredom is normal in relationships. That means things are healthy; right? And isn't that what you want?

He's not hideous. He treats you well, even if he is a little forgetful most of the time. Jiro actually likes you—which is a first. He opens every door. Brings you souvenirs from all of his trips. Doesn't let you lift a single finger. Slightly overbearing, but what man isn't? All good signs.

You just aren't attracted to him. You keep hoping that one day it'll just...click, and you'll be head over heels for him. Maybe there's just something fundamentally wrong with you on some molecular level. This isn't the first time a boyfriend has failed to satisfy you in bed, after all. This one just happens to have the heart of gold to make up for it.

You snuggle back down into the sheets and drown out the smell of sex and beer with the scent of your candle. You're halfway into lalaland when Jiro kisses the side of your neck. You grumble and then whine when he does it again. You hope he isn't wanting round two.

You're at that point where you couldn't fake a proper moan even if he paid you.

"Babyyyy" Jiro says, nuzzling at your throat. "There's something I want to try"

"Not now, I hope" You say, sinking your fingers into the short strands of hair and pulling him off of you. Jiro makes a needy sound, leaning forwards to kiss you. There's no finesse to it—and Jiro isn't usually such a shit kisser. "Jiro—"

"Okay, okay" He says, pulling back for real. "Don't laugh at me"

"Why would I laugh at you?" You grumble, starting to get annoyed at the shifty nervous act he's got going on now. "I told you—as long as it isn't—"

"—Anal, yes, I know" Jiro finishes, and then starts fidgeting with the hem of your cami top. He says nothing else.

"Spit it out" You snap; not even bothering to hide your irritation. Jiro turns a rosy pink, he likes it when you get snappish with him—for some reason. He might be more messed up than you are.

"I want you to uhm–try" His voice cracks. Jiro pauses, and then tries again. "I want you to try cucking"

You're sure you've misheard him. "What the hell is that?"

"I want you to get fucked by another guy" He states plainly, red all the way to his big ears.

...what the hell?

But that isn't enough for Jiro, apparently, because there's more. "And I want to see. Not there physically, but a recording. I want you to film it...I know someone who does that kinda thing and he was talking to me about. I got interested and I've been thinking about it for a while"

You try to keep a straight face. You really do. You know it can't be easy, telling someone your sexual preferences and shit. But— "You know a guy who...what, gets paid to fuck other guy's girlfriends?"

Jiro groans, burying his face in his hands.

"Baby! You said you wouldn't make fun!" The petname is followed by more blushing, like what you said was somehow more outlandish than what he said "Just...yes or no?"

"I have so many questions" You tell him, grinning at the ridiculousness of it all. "One...why do you know someone like that. I've met all of your friends and none of them strike me as the type to...well. Do that kind of stuff. And two—" You pause, glancing at your boyfriend.

He looks sort of pathetic, in a sodden wet kitten way. It makes you feel kind of bad for the teasing.

For once, you'll have mercy on him. He really does treat you well. You can indulge his weird kink, just this once. "If we're recording anything, I don't want anybody having it but you"

Jiro, the sodden thing, perks right up. "Does that mean you're interested?"

"Yeah, sure" You tell him, shrugging a shoulder, grabbing his phone to order yourself something to eat. It'll suck, but it'll make Jiro happy...so. "I'm not doing any of that weird freaky shit though. Just regular sex""

You would've completely forgotten about agreeing to the stupid sex thing Jiro wanted to try, if it weren't for his anxious, antsy behavior over the course of the next three days. By the way he's acting, you would think he's the one about to have sex.

The first day, he treated you with an entire edible arrangement basket, kissing your cheek to tell you that the plans are concrete and everything has been paid for. You're pretty sure he might have mentioned his name too...a Segu, or something—but you were far too engrossed in the chocolate covered strawberries to care.

On the day the creep is set to arrive, you took an everything shower. Jiro even helped shave the parts you couldn't reach. It was such a weird experience. Your boyfriend dolling you up to get fucked by another guy. For a minute there, you were afraid he would accidentally nick you with the razor...but his hand were shockingly steady.

You're scrolling absentmindedly on your phone when the buzzer outside goes off. Jiro goes ramrod straight, like a dog hearing its owner come home. He freezes for a second, completely useless and cherry red, so you swat the back of his head and go to open the door yourself.

Sunlight streams through the apartment. The wind blows, sort of cinematic. You're staring at his chest, cicadas buzzing in your ears as you drift your gaze up...and then up some more.

Oh.

"Hello," A polite voice lilts, like tap from a sink.

You've never been one to mask your expressions very well. So when the stranger smiles at you, you can only assume he's seen your jaw literally drop. You stand there like an idiot, trying to get your brain to turn back on.

"H–hey?" You croak, brows furrowing in confusion.

You were expecting...not this guy. Someone interested in fucking other peoples girlfriends and wives would have to be just as weird looking as their sexual kink. And to be honest...ugly. So ugly you'd have to put your face in a pillow and picture someone else to get off.

This guy isn't that. The complete opposite, in fact. Tall, way taller than Jiro. Long, black hair tied up in a messy man bun, strands artfully framing his face. Tanned skin, eyes shaped like almonds with a certain fox-like character to them that it makes your stomach churn.

And when he smiles, which he's doing now, you can see a gleaming set of white teeth and slick lips. Is he wearing chapstick? Probably. You want to panic (which you are actually doing) and shut the door in face. This can't be the guy Jiro knows.

"Well; you aren't Jiro" He says, which completely disproves your earlier musings "So I'm going to assume you're his girlfriend. May I come in, sweetheart?"

Your brain shuts off again. This time, it's easier for it to come back on. Absolutely ridiculous. You've been around attractive people before. Shoulders tensing, you step back into the apartment, muttering. "Sure. Fuck; I don't care"

He chuckles behind you. Smooth. Really smooth.

Jiro has gotten back to his senses as well, and shakes the guys hand. There's a big black case strapped to his back. Your stomach churns. Oh. Right. The camera.

Knowing you're going to be filmed is one thing. Actually having to go through with it is enough. You watch as he slides it off of his capable shoulders while he and Jiro engage in friendly conversation.

"Baby, this is Geto," Jiro says, nodding his head in your direction. "Geto, this is my gorgeous girlfriend"

You roll your eyes, trying to save face. Geto, on the other hand, hasn't taken his eyes off of you once. Even when he and your boyfriend were talking, he was looking at you. And now, he slowly rakes his eyes up and down your body.

"Have you ever done something like this before?" He inquires; sliding the tripod over to Jiro, who works on setting it up.

"No" You answer simply, sitting on the couch because standing around uselessly is starting to make you anxious.

Geto chuckles, Jiro's struggling with the tripod now, and so he strolls over to assist him. It's a nice sound, his laugh, you mean. "You don't sound too excited"

"I'm not" You shrug, crossing one leg over the other and curling your toes into the carpet. "I mean, no offense, but the sex is probably going to suck"

A look crosses Geto's face. He pauses, hands stilling around the tripod (fingers slender and elegant), and then he stares at you. "Pardon?"

Jiro rushes to mend the situation. "She's a bit of a brat, I told you. Always says the first thing on her mind"

"I see that" Geto says; and smiles. It isn't a real one. You can tell. His hands have completely fallen away from the tripod now, watching you. For once, you're beginning to regret speaking. "And you really have no questions or concerns?"

How fast can this be over? You of course, don't say that. "Not really." You rest against the arm of the couch. Hopefully after this, you'll be able to forget the whole thing ever happened.

There's another lapse in conversation. And then, as if nothing had ever happened, Geto turns back to the tripod and Jiro. He murmurs something that sounds like, I see, and then the two of them begin to discuss things you don't really care about. Stuff Jiro wants to see, stuff you already told him you don't ever want to do. Pretty boring.

Geto doesn't address you again. You might as well be nothing but a fixture in the living room. In fact, his gaze sweeps right over you entirely. It makes your nerves buzz with energy. You don't like being ignored.

"So...I guess I'll head out now" Your boyfriend murmurs, leaning over the couch to kiss your cheek. You stiffen, but lean into it eventually. The door closes behind him, and the two of you are alone.

There's more silence. Awkward, heavy silence. For a second; it feels like Jiro's just signed your death sentence. And then it evaporates, and Geto smiles.

"What are you expecting from this?" He asks, which is far from what you were expecting. Less talking and more fucking.

"It's just like making a porn video right?" You ask in return; shrugging. "I just fake moan a lot and pretend you got me off and then Jiro's happy" To be honest, the real question should be what Jiro gets out of it.

Geto gets money and free sex, which is a low you never thought you'd reach...but you aren't gonna judge. To you, your boyfriend seems to be the only one missing out. Well, other than you of course. So maybe Geto's the only one reaping anything from this.

"Why do think you have to pretend to get off?" Geto inquires next, tilting his head at you with that honeyed voice.

You simply stare at him like he's an idiot. "All girls fake it" (you think) "I like Jiro, and it's not his fault there's something wrong with my vagina—so...are we going to get this started or what?"

After another moment of Geto studying you, he rounds the couch. For a second, you think he's going to turn the tripod on to do just that, but he doesn't—coming to stand above you instead. He tilts his head again, like you're some sort of small creature he can't quite figure out. His hair falls into his face a bit.

He stretches a hand out towards you, and you instinctively jerk back from it. Jiro did check to make sure this guy wasn't a murderer, right? What's with that stare?

Geto tries again. This time, crouching.

"Hey, what are you doing—?" You grit out, shoulders tense, realizing all too late that in order to have sex with this guy you do actually have to take your clothes off. So you force yourself to relax.

Only, Geto doesn't strip you out of your clothes. He doesn't even touch you sexually. Instead he cups your face with his broad hand. His nails press into the apples of your cheeks as he turns your face this way and that, studying you.

What the actual fuck is wrong with this guy? You think, skin heating underneath his touch.

"You're very pretty," Geto says

"...okay?"

"Yes," He chuckles fondly, and somehow it sounds sweet and condescending all at once. "You are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. Especially those eyes"

"Oh. Uh...okay?" You mutter again, sliding your gaze away. You don't really see what this has to do with sex. And you know you aren't ugly. Beautiful might be a bit or a stretch, though. Hot. Sexy. Cute. Beautiful? Not really. "Thanks? I guess?"

"Hm." Geto hums, and then, "I don't think I'll turn the camera on yet"

Your face, still held up in Geto's hand, scrunches into a scowl. "Why not?"

"None of that," He murmurs, and the pressure of his fingers into your cheeks increases, "Humor me for a second, beautiful?"

You don't want to. This isn't for you to 'humor' anything. It's so Jiro can have some weird shit to jerk off to later when he's all alone. What this is, what Geto's doing now, is a big waste of your time. Yet when you open your mouth to tell him so, his thumb slips past your parted lips.

His finger presses down on your tongue. Then he maps your mouth from the inside : your cheeks, the edges of your teeth. Back to your molars and up towards your incisors. And you let him, caught in this weird limbo of incessant contact. Geto holds himself perfectly still, you've noticed.

"Sweetheart" Geto says, pressing the pad of his thumb into one of your teeth so hard one would think he's trying to draw blood. "I asked you a question"

You swallow around his thumb and shrug again. "I guess? Uh—sure?"

Geto leans in on his knees. The expression on his face darkens, just a little. You don't think he...liked that answer. Or maybe it was the tone you used? Whatever it is, there's a displeased vibe coming from him. Even then; he's still level with you on the couch height wise. What a dick.

"Whenever I ask a question, I expect an answer" He says, still in that soft tone. "Let's try again, okay? Is it alright if I keep the camera off for a moment?"

Your brows scrunch. "You are so weird—"

Geto slides a second finger into your mouth so fast you aren't even prepared, less so for the way he jabs them down your throat. Hard.

You choke, sputtering, eyes narrowed. "What was fucking hell was that fucking for?" You snap, spit bubbling around your lips.

Geto smiles. "I'm sorry honey," He says, still smiling down at you. "That was an accident. Let's try again, alright?"

Does he think you're some kind of idiot? You know he didn't do that on 'accident'. He meant to shove his fingers down your throat. When he pulls the digits free enough for you to speak freely; you can see the shine of your spit webbing between them.

You have a few more choice words for him. 'Go fuck yourself' being pretty high on that list...but. You eye his fingers again.

"Okay" You mumble warily, which is the most you're willing to give. Geto seems to know when to push and when not to, because he doesn't bring up how your response isn't technically a proper one. Instead, he smiles again; and smears his fingers on the fabric of your black sleep shorts.

A matching set. Cropped cami with a lettuce trim and a little red bow right at the juncture of your breasts. Shorts trimmed in red lace with another bow and cherries. Jiro's favorite.

"Excellent, sweetheart" What is with these petnames? "How about you give me a kiss?"

You hesitate, shooting him another wary look. Kissing doesn't have to be intimate, you know lots of people who kiss during sex with casual partners. Oddly enough, you find your mind wandering to Jiro.

He can't mind you kissing Geto too much, since he did pay him to fuck you. So...despite your misgivings, you lean forwards and place a stiff kiss against his slack mouth.

It's weird. All wrong. He is wearing chapstick, you note at the back of your mind. The plain kind that's slightly minty. Geto allows the kiss to remain stiff and prudish for a handful of moments, as if to let you gather your bearings.

And then he moves. It's gradual, but you're so keyed up and nervous you notice almost immediately. His fingers finally slip from your cheeks and instead glide down to your chin. He tilts your head, first this way and then that and finally your slips slide together in a proper kiss.

What the fuck? No seriously, what the fuck?

Geto's tongue presses against the seam of your lips, and then he licks into the cavern of your mouth, all smooth and easy. He hums, appreciative, and then presses closer. Then he does some...weird thing with his tongue, rubbing and twining it against your own like he's trying to tie a knot or something.

You strain to breathe properly, hands clutching tight little fist-falls on the couch. Are kisses supposed to feel this good? Are they really supposed to make you tingly all over and slightly lightheaded? You thought that kind of thing was for movies, or those hentai mangas Jiro pretends he doesn't have.

But no, that tingly, gut clenching, heat-spreading feeling is real. You're stiff as a board, hackles raised when Geto manages to pull away—cheeks flamed and body twitching with apprehension, looking anywhere but at him.

As if to make up for it (or make it worse), he slides his palms against your thighs. Up and then down and then up again. Elegant fingers, neatly trimmed nail-beds. Red-hot lava seems to burst from wherever he touches, and by the time he speaks again, you're trembling.

"Good girl" He murmurs, and then lifts one hand to cup your cheek again. Almost like he's petting you. Against your better judgement, your eyes jerk to his face. Your brain scrambles, and it's getting a little hard to focus.

"I knew you weren't a brat" Geto continues, not caring that you're rendered practically useless. Sort of belatedly, you realize he is petting you. Like you're some sort of harried creature. Your cheek, your hair, the hot side of your neck, back down to your thighs again. "I knew you weren't one the minute he showed me your picture, sweetheart"

You don't say anything to that. Even if it is just slightly creepy. Again, Geto oddly doesn't seem to mind. Maybe it was rhetorical.

"And because you're such a good girl, you'll do exactly as I tell you" He probes and this time, when a response isn't given, the press of his fingers bites into your cheeks again.

Oh. You're actually meant to say something. You try to say something, to speak, really, you do. All you can muster is a wheeze. What the—? There's no way a kiss has got you this out of sorts. Use your brain, stupid. Determined, you manage a nod.

Getos smile is a big one—like you've just managed some grand milestone. "You know, you're surprisingly obedient, baby. Has a kiss got you this out of it?"

That manages to break you right out of your stupor. Practically hissing, you spit out a "No fucking way!" that sounds more shaky than you'd like to admit. As if to make up for that particular blunder, you glare at him.

"Not just yet, huh?" Geto murmurs, and you would think that he was talking to himself, if it weren't for the dramatic drop of his shoulders and the expression on his face. "Don't worry, we'll get you there, darling"

"Get me where—?" You start, but then Geto is turning on the camera and hoisting you into his lap without so much as another word. If it weren't for the camera (or maybe even despite it), you would really glare at him. Maybe curse him some more.

Before you can squirm away or do something that ruins the...vibe of the video (???), Geto situates you more firmly. His chest plastered right to your back – holy shit you can feel his pecs – and your thighs spread artfully, tiny shorts threatening to give one hell of a wedgie.

One arm wraps snugly around your midsection. There's the soft pressure of Geto pressing a kiss against your shoulder, and you assume that's the green light to get started. That's usually how things are with Jiro, anyway. So moving on instinct, you go to do just that.

You wiggle your fingers between your legs, lifting your hips just so to tug at his belt buckle. Why isn't he working with you, here? Does he expect you to do it all yourself from this angle? What an ass.

Geto catches your wrist and makes a disapproving noise. "No. Not now, sweetheart" His voice is oddly patronizing. You don't like that one bit.

"What the hell do you mean no?" You snap, as Geto forcibly tugs you back down into his lap again. "Are we going to do this or not—?"

"Don't be a brat" He interrupts rudely, massaging one of your breasts through your cami top before roughly pinching the nipple. "You were being so good for me before, baby. Don't act up now"

Before you can protest (and how badly you want to), Geto starts with that weird petting thing again. He's skillfully removed your shirt, like it's a scene right out of a movie. Which, well, you suppose it is. Hands skim along your stomach, toying with the waistband of your shorts. You'll never be able to look at this set the same way again.

Unlike Jiro, Geto isn't pawing at you. He isn't blindly groping at your breasts and midsection like your boyfriend often does. No, every touch is measured, precise. It takes you a second to realize he's going for specific pressure points that end up with you going wholly lax against him, no longer tense.

Even though he's hard and pressing right against your ass, he doesn't seem too eager to do anything about that. Instead, he places deep kisses down the side of your throat. It feels good...you can admit that.

His hand wanders down between your legs, pressing flat against your covered pussy. Uncontrolled, your hips jerk and a breathy sigh escapes you. Geto smiles against the back of your neck.

"That was such a cute little sound," He murmurs, gently plucking at your nipples until they're hard little peaks. "I see why Jiro's so obsessed with you, honey. But you're not Jiro's today. You're mine, aren't you darling?"

I'm my own person, you want to say. Your brains scrambles and then only thing you do say, is in the form of a soft whine.

Geto hums, one of his disappointed ones. "C'mon, sweetheart. What did I say about questions? Don't tell me you've forgotten already"

You hate the way your brain supplies immediately : when he asks questions, he wants an answer. You scowl. If Geto wants an answer, you'll give him one. Just not the one he's expecting. "'m...not—"

Quicker than a serpent, Geto's hand snakes down your shorts and presses right against your bare pussy (when did you get so wet??). Your hips twitch and buck, which makes the bastard laugh. "Oh? Could you speak up for the camera, sweetheart?"

Right. The camera. Is Jiro into the whole cutesy submissive act? Since fucking when?

"...." You can't get the words out. But you have to. "I am"

Again, Geto is not satisfied with that answer. You had an inkling that he wouldn't be. He pinches your nipples harshly (sorta like your boyfriend) and your face erupts into embarrassment at the squeaky whine you let out.

"I'm yours" You rush to correct toes curling. Was that too quiet? What if it wasn't what he was expecting? Just to be safe, you go to repeat it. "I'm...haah—"

Finally, you seem to have done something right. Geto smiles, and tugs off those stupid shorts at last. The cool air makes you tingle, especially against your cunt. Geto bends you forward a little bit, in order to reach the lubricant left on the coffee table.

You eye the bottle before it's pulled out of sight. For once, you don't think you're going to need it. Puzzled, your gaze travels between your legs—you're clearly wet. And Jiro fingered you just before anyway...so theoretically you should be able to take him with only a little bit of pain and discomfort.

Why isn't he just getting it on with? If it were Jiro, he'd be dying to put his cock in by now. But there's no real way to communicate this with him, considering you're the one facing the camera.

Like with the caressing, Geto doesn't beat around the bush. He coats his fingers, hand darting between your thighs and then he presses one inside. Then, he seems to reconsider something, and pulls it back out. The sound of two fingers pushing into your cunt is squelching and lewd in the otherwise quiet room.

No pain. Not even a little bit. In fact, it feels pretty good, you'd say.

"A little tight," Geto murmurs, more to himself than you or the camera. Then, to you : "Is Jiro not taking care of you, sweetheart? My poor girl"

You don't have to answer that one. You don't know how you know. His fingers push in a bit deeper with no resistance and a huff leaves your lips. You're not too excited about this, especially since it's mostly just jabbing and prodding, like some sort of medical exam. You wish he'd just pull them out and fuck you already. When Jiro does the fucking part; it at least feels like you could cum, rather than when he fingers you.

Sometimes (though rare) you actually do cum. Weak ones, where it doesn't bring you as much pleasure as you've seen girls do in those porn video. But then again, most porn is fake anyway...so maybe they were faking it too.

Geto, as observant as he is, catches onto your new apprehension. You can feel his gaze on you, though you refuse to turn your head back.

"Has he really never made you cum this way?" He murmurs, voice low so that the camera couldn't possibly pick up on it.

"Are you—" Stupid, you want to say. This way? You look down between your legs, brows furrowing in displeasure. "I already told you I can't"

His brows jump to his forehead. It's the first show of normal human emotion you've seen from him. And then he laughs; like he knows something you don't.

"I thought you were acting for the video" He says, smiling sadly at you. "Poor girl. No wonder you're so pent up. This one's a special present from me, alright?"

Before you can ask what that was all about, Geto adjusts your position a little. You're no longer centered in his lap, but rather settled onto one thigh, his right one. He swats at your knee a couple of times before you realize he wants you to prop it up. The other leg is cracked open, like a pretzel—putting you all on display for the camera.

It's embarrassing. It makes your gut clench and you feel slick dribbling out of your cunt, which might even be worse, though Geto doesn't seem to mind. His fingers feel around inside of you for a moment, as if searching for something.

Whatever it is he's looking for, he doesn't find it. Not on the first try at least. Not even on the second, shifting you around. But on the third—

Your hand flies out to curl around his wrist, whole body jerking. "Hey—what?" It's there and gone again, so fast you can't even tell if it felt good or bad, just different.

You can feel Geto smiling into your skin. When you glance back at him, all wary, you find that he's already staring. There's that same, foxy, smarmy look. But he doesn't answer you, not verbally at least.

Instead, his fingers slide in and out. Rolling smooth and easy, like that thing he did with his tongue in your mouth before. It's nice, and that jerky, sudden feeling doesn't come back. You're just about to chalk it up to a happy little accident when his fingers curl and stroke that spot purposefully.

Your eyes blow wide, and a rattling gasp tears free from your throat. You twitch; legs snapping shut as a rush of slick gushes from your cunt. Geto grunts, murmurs something like, no you don't, and rips your legs back open again.

His free hand pins your knee down to the couch and then he proceeds to do the...the most vile thing you've ever felt with his fingers. They fuck in hard and fast, your pussy trying to tighten on every slide to keep him inside. They stroke incessantly on that same little spot on every other thrust, constant stimulation. It feels so good you can't even moan at first, just taut and trembling and shaking.

And when you eventually start moaning, loud, throaty sounds, like one of those girls—you don't even have the mind to be all that embarrassed about it.

He isn't even touching your clit. The only way you had been able to come before with Jiro fucking you was with hours of stimulation and his wet fingers rubbing mad circles at your clit (he might otherwise suck at sex, but at least he knew how to find it with no problem).

Whatever this is that Geto's doing...it blows Jiro's meager lovemaking out of the water. Your back arches with a loud, cracked groan and you toss your head back onto his shoulder, squirming on his fingers.

Throughout this, Geto says nothing. He would seem almost..bored, if it weren't for the heat of his gaze on you. Even with your eyes shut and body burning, you can feel him watching you. His fingers speed up, somehow, what the fuck, practically a blur. When he speaks, you almost don't hear him.

"Now that feels much better, doesn't it?" He practically coos in your ear, chest rumbling with what you think might be laughter. Your hands claw at the cushions, eyes squeezed tightly shut as that knot inside your stomach twists and uncoils rapidly.

Reaching that peak feels inevitable. Your body seizes up tight and you think you might have screamed. That's how good it felt. Geto meticulously and mercilessly wrings you completely dry, drawing out that orgasm so long you think it spurs on a second.

When it's finally over and done with, and Geto's sure he can't get anything else out of you, his fingers still. And then they slip out completely, pulling a ragged whine free. Ashamed (why; you couldn't really say) you stare down at the carpet.

All of that anger seems to have melted right out of you. Your head spins. Each thought is harder to grasp than the last. Geto chuckles, and then slides you off of his lap down onto the couch. Speaking of Geto, you're supposed to be thinking some very angry thoughts about him. But even that seems a world away.

Hands rearrange your body. You rest your face down against the couch, turning to inhale the familiar scent as Geto busies himself with his clothes. You want him to hurry up, that much you do know, but you want to be patient for him even more.

Geto's cock slots between your thighs. He ruts between them for a handful of moments and every slide has pleasure knotting inside your stomach. It feels good. So far, every time Geto's touched you, you've felt nothing but intense pleasure.

"Alright, sweetheart. Let's see where we're at with that obedience, hmm?" You don't care to ask what it is he's talking about. As if reading your thoughts, his cock nudges at your entrance, eliciting a loud moan from below. "You want me to fuck you, right?"

"Yes. Yes," You even lift your ass up, hazily looking back at him. If that doesn't tell him how eager you are; you don't know what will. "I want that"

Geto furrows his brows, and sighs so forlorn and long that it's obviously fake. But you're so dizzy with need you don't even realize it, stomach plummeting. "Oh, but..."

Even as he says it, what feels like a rejection, his hand rubs up and down your spine.

"But w-what?!"

"Well, Jiro told me earlier you were a brat" He says, rubbing his cock right against your hole. "And you were so snappish and rude. And you said it wouldn't feel good. Really hurt my feelings..."

When the hell did you say that? "Uhm....I—"

"See, sweetheart, I'm a gentleman. I can always stop here, you know? You did cum," Here, Geto stops petting you. Your chest heaves, panicked. He's going to stop. "I don't have sex with brats, anyway. I prefer good, sweet, obedient girls"

You sputter, shaking your head with wide eyes, cunt still dripping on his cock. "No. No, no, I wanna—I want to, I—"

Geto hums, as if he's had a sudden epiphany. "Oh? You just wanted to feel good? Like you do with your boyfriend?"

Not exactly, your brain whispers. It's an excuse, but if it'll get Geto to fuck you, you'll happily say it. "Ye–yea! Like that"

"I don't want that though" Geto murmurs, frowning. He starts pulling back and a punched noise leaves your lips. "I told you, I like good girls. I like girls who want to be good for me. I'm not like Jiro. I'm not playing with a brat"

"Geto...."

"Unless," He says, eyes twinkling, "There's something you want to tell me?"

One look at his face tells you he's dead serious. He wants you to...your face twists into a grimace. But that's embarrassing. Uncontrollably, your eyes jump to the camera.

Is this what Jiro wanted?

Before you can spiral about that, Geto's fingers settle against your cheeks and he snaps your head back to look at him again. He's closer now. In this position, you couldn't see anything but him even if someone handed you a million yen.

"Say it for me," He murmurs, pointedly, another crack in his mask falling free. "Not for the camera. Not for Jiro. Just for me, baby. Can you be a good girl for me?"

You swallow, spit and nerves and all. Your stomach clenches and unclenches, hard. "Oka—okay. Okay. I wanna keep going. Give it to me now"

There's a grin so sharp on his face it could slice your skin from bone. "Oh come on, darling . Give me a little something to remember. Say you want to be my good girl and have my cock in this pussy"

"I wanna...I wanna be your good girl" You stutter, hips jerking back, trying to do the work yourself. When that doesn't work, you drop your head onto the cushions, defeated. This is so mortifying. "Fuck. Just—Geto...I'll be good. I promise, please...please, I want your co–cock...I want your cock in my pussy, please—"

Geto, the bastard, smiles and then pulls back, righting himself again. "I know that already, honey." His thumb jerks to the camera. "Tell it to him"

Liar. He said all you had to do was…what is wrong with this guy? Your shoulders curl with anxiety—no, with need. Blinding, all consuming need. Your body feels like its on fire.

"I want his cock" You mumble, squirming.

His hand swats against your ass. Hard. It stings, but this far in, even that manages to feel good. The biting sting is soothed as he squeezes your cheek in one hand. "Tell him. Like you just told me"

Ego bruised, you finally give in. "I want his cock, want it so bad. I want him to fuck me, feels like 'm gonna fuckin die—Geto, please...!"

Any semblance of dignity you once had jumps out of your skull the minute Geto pushes inside. He's carving out a space inside of you, stretching you a bit more than what you're used to with the safe baseline Jiro provides.

Geto, on the other hand, seems to dedicate his entire life to one goal : making sure you fall apart. There's no gentle buildup, just him nailing those same spots he found with his fingers you that make you see starts. Just like before, its both horrible and the best thing you've ever felt.

You don't really register the pitiful, broken noises spilling from your throat. That can't be you sounding like that—it can't. But it is. And the worst part by far is that you can't stop.

Not when you try to close your mouth (Geto adjusts the speed, and manages to thrust inside right as your lips clamp together...so of course you end up mewling again). Not when you turn your face further into the cushions to stifle them (Geto honest to god scoffs, a digs a hand under your slobbery cheek to wrench you back up again).

"My first name is Suguru, by the way," Geto—no, Suguru, murmurs in your ear. The only thing giving him away is the slight breathlessness to his voice, and nothing else. "I don't usually give it out to my partners, but you're really something special"

You're shaking like a leaf, soaking the couch below (someone should've brought something, you're going to stain it—) and moaning with a sob. Suguru's cock scrambles your head to mush. You swear you can feel it trickling right out of your ears like slushy snow.

A snap of his hips has you crying out his name pitifully. Suguru growls at the sound, mask cracking further, and when he shoves your head down into the couch, all you do is further lift your ass so he can continue pounding you seven ways to Sunday. You can't take it, you swear you can't—

Frantically, your hand snakes between your thighs. All you really need now is that edge of stimulation from your clit and you can cum again. You know you can. It's amazing. Jiro's never made you cum three times in one go.

Suguru snatches your arm so fast you get whiplash. His pace doesn't falter for even a second, folding and pinning your arm to your lower back as you whine pathetically below him.

"Absolutely not, sweetheart. Nice try," Suguru coos, sounding exhilarated. Like this is just as good for him as it is for you. It should make you feel...vindictive or something, finally cracking the bastard's perfect mask. But all it does is tighten your gut. "You don't need to touch your clit. You proved you could cum without it before, you little whore. You're going to do it again"

His words shouldn't shoot pleasure down your spine. If Jiro called you a whore, you would have slapped him. But you don't do anything to protest his harsh words, hips twitching as Suguru grinds into your cunt. He's disgustingly deep inside and even though you can't physically see him, the heat of his gaze is more than enough. You can't take it, you can't—

Your wrists jerk underneath his hold (is he seriously holding you down with just one hand?) (what the fuck? whatthefuckwhatthe—). You need something to hold onto. You feel like you're going to lose your fucking mind. You choke on another mewl, which cracks into a sob, and then you really are crying.

Crying because it feels too good. Writhing under his hold, spit bubbling at your lips, tears trickling down your cheeks. The whole nine yards. Suguru makes a pleased noise at that, murmurs, good girl, turning your face at the perfect angle for the camera.

Bastard.

It's sudden when you cum. But inevitable, just like Suguru implied. You scream again, you think, voice pitching so high you go silent. Your back arches obscenely, and Suguru lets you go at last—smiling you think when your hands fly onto the couch for purchase. You collapse into a mindless little puddle when you're done.

You might be done, but Suguru isn't. He groans, a shuddering thing, one of the few noises he's made, plastering himself to your back. Unconscious, you spread your legs further, objecting not once when his hand spreads your cheeks as he watches his cock piston inside your cunt.

Like with the petting, everything is a buzzy, strange little haze. Like you're on some other planet.

His cock twitches inside you. With a soft little whine, you clench around it a few times. "I was going to make her beg for a creampie, but I don't think our girl is capable of speech right now" He says, directed to Jiro.

Our girl. That makes you whimper, oddly pleased.

"Guess I should just give it to you anyway," He murmurs, more to himself than to either you or the camera. His thrusts speed up, growing slightly erratic. "Hold still baby..."

As if you could move a muscle. Your fingers twitch, and then your entire hand. Your brain struggles to function. "S-Sugu—"

That finally does it. Suguru bites you so hard it's painful, slamming all the way in. He doesn't release you from the sting of his teeth until he's pumped you entirely full of his spend.

"Good girl," Suguru whispers, once it's all over, a smidge too gentle for the camera alone. Your heart seizes onto the notion that this is something else meant just for you. "I knew you had it in you, my darling girl"

© amalainse -- do not copy, steal or plagiarize my works.

[inactiveukas-deactivated2026030]

silly texts with bf!katsuki p3!

eat up.. sorry it’s scraps 😣

[kyojinacts]

More Actor AU Headcanons for the SNK/AOT characters! (S3/S4 Edition)

1.) Sasha and Gabi are, in fact, sisters outside of the world of AOT! This was quickly revealed after hate comments started increasing against Gabi the actress rather than Gabi's character. For Gabi's mental health, the movie team placed an SNS ban on her to help her avoid seeing the comments. Meanwhile, Sasha fiercely advocates for sister during S4 interviews, calling out the viewers who have gone too far in taking out their frustrations.

2.) Yelena cannot physically bear to see the scrunched up face she makes at Armin when her character realizes he had been playing her this entire time. You know which one I am referring to. Every time she sees it on her feed, she scrolls quickly; otherwise, it makes her cringe.

3.) Floch revealed in a livestream that he almost withdrew from his role when Isayama revealed his character design. It goes without saying that he was NOT a fan of the hair. Luckily for him, Season 4 came with its share of hairstyle changes for many cast members (Eren, Armin, Jean, Connie), so his complaints were heard. Not to mention the pay for his superb acting definitely made the snide online remarks worth it.

4.) In an S3 interview with Ymir and Historia, it was revealed they shot a kiss scene to which the lyrics of Zero Eclipse were referring ("you're trembling, we share a kiss") but the scene was unfortunately omitted for time's sake. A week later, a low quality "fancam" of the kiss on set was anonymously posted on Twitter. People think either a castmate or someone from the editing team posted it from their burner account LOL.

5.) Dhalis Zachary hardly has a presence on social media. Just an instagram account that had a few photos from some trips that he took with family. Completely normal. That being said, his following erupted immensely after he posted a picture of himself sitting in the chair. Yeah. That chair. Luckily he was sitting on it as if it were a throne, and not a human rights violating torture contraption.

6.) There's a blooper scene where Zeke is stuck in the sand in the paths from when his character almost died from the thunder spear blast in S4. He's groaning at Ymir (the founder) and asking her when she's going to be done. The actress playfully hits him up on the head with her empty sand bucket. Zeke groans further in faux frustration.

7.) Porco wasn't told that Pieck was going to walk on all fours as he was heading up the stairs in that one scene, so the reaction filming crew got on tape was his live reaction. Luckily, he was able to reel himself before he could curse, allowing for a smooth one take.

8.) Keith Shadis's actor made baby Eren cry when shooting the scene where he was ranting to Carla Jaeger for not being able to understand the honor of being part of the Survey Corps. He felt really bad, so they had to reshoot the scene such that Shadis was greenscreened onto the scene where Carla holds the baby with no one actually there to act the scene with.

9.) Reiner and Jean's banter in the last episode, where Jean says "it's a damn shame you got a new lease on life" was completely unscripted. Reiner actually looks to the crew for a cue because he wasn't expecting that response LMAO. The cast burst out laughing once the "CUT!" was announced. The take was kept in.

10.) Filming during the "Paths" scenes where Eren talks to all his friends at once had to be retaken several times because someone in the main cast would always end up tripping over themselves in the sand. One take it's Connie. Another it's Armin. Then Jean. Each reset, they would have to go back to the start. Each reset, the sand would have to be redistributed to make it seem like multiple people hadn't just ran through it. By the time they were done, the cast looked as if they truly had been fighting through the Rumbling themselves: sweat dripping, breaths panting, a collective mind of people hoping for this moment to be over.

[cinnasite]

nerd gone viral ( ˶°ㅁ°) !!

꩜ pairing: nerd!armin arlert x female reader

꩜ warnings: explicit content, language

꩜ word count: 3.7k

꩜ synopsis: a harmless campus interview turns your best friend into an overnight internet sensation—and suddenly, every thirsty TikTok comment feels like it’s whispering your secret.

☆ art cred: @/juvianism on instagram :3

You nearly spill your coffee all over your Political Theory textbook when you unlock your phone. Another two hundred comments on that TikTok. You know you shouldn't check—you probably watched it about a million times yesterday alone—but your fingers move before your brain can scream at you to stop.

@/bookslvt01: ok but the way he talks about virginia woolf??? NEED HIM CARNALLY @/colossalthighs: i’d let him annotate my entire body fr @/arlertmeout: he looks like he apologises before choking you

You bite your lip, half-entertained and half-horrified, scrolling through the endless comments under what was supposed to be an innocent campus interview. The video has 2.3 million views now, completely insane for something filmed outside the modest main library—the same one you find yourself in at the moment—on a random Tuesday.

"Ugh, don’t tell me. You're watching it again, aren't you?"

Your head snaps up comically quick, caught red-handed, to find Sasha sliding into the seat across from you at your usual table, eyeing your phone screen with knowing amusement. 

"What? No."

"You are! You have that weird, glazed look in your eyes. The same one you get when Professor Ackerman extends the deadline for our research papers." Sasha unwraps what appears to be her third sandwich of the day. You don't mention how it’s only twelve in the afternoon. "You know you could just talk to him about it, right? He's literally one of your best friends."

"And say what exactly?" you finally close the godforsaken app, trying to ignore how your screen time report is definitely going to be embarrassing this week. "Hey Armin, I've watched your viral video more times than I can remember and I'm having very inappropriate thoughts about your tongue piercing that I absolutely shouldn't be having about my friend?"

Sasha snickers, a piece of lettuce tumbling to the table from her mouth. "Well, when you put it like that... actually, yes. One hundred percent that."

"Sasha, I can't just—" you frown in frustration, inhaling deeply. "It's complicated."

"How is it complicated? You've had a crush on him since freshman year."

"That was different. That was before we became friends. Before I knew him." You lean back in your chair, staring at the ceiling as fond memories overwhelm you. "Back then he was just this cute, nerdy guy in my intro psych class who got excited about statistical analysis and always smelled like that vanilla body wash I love. I used to sit behind him just to watch him get all animated during discussions about cognitive behavioural theory, you know?"

Sasha merely rolls her eyes. "Jesus, and you call me demented. Well, what about now?"

"Now? Now, he's Armin. He's my friend who stays up until 3 A.M. to help me with my assignments, who brings me soup when I'm sick, who texts me the dumbest memes about historical figures," you slump forward, close to pouting. "He's the guy who spent six hours teaching me how to play that MMO he's obsessed with just because I mentioned being bored over winter break. He's..."

"He's the guy you're infatuated with," Sasha supplies helpfully.

"I'm not," you start to protest, then wisely opt to give up instead. "Okay, maybe. But that's exactly the problem. I can't risk blowing up our friendship just because some stupid interview made me realise I want to climb him like a tree."

"A tree with a tongue piercing," Sasha adds with a cheeky grin.

"Fuck’s sake, don't remind me," you let your head rest against the table. "Do you know how many times I've replayed that two-second clip where he licks his lips? It's pathetic."

"It's not pathetic, it's kind of sweet. There's a difference." Sasha takes another bite of her sandwich, her eyes evidently lighting up. "Besides, you don't know that he doesn't feel the same way. Have you seen how he looks at you during our study sessions? Boy's got it bad."

"He looks at me like a friend, Sasha. Because that's what we are."

"Believe me, friends don't look at friends the way he looked at you last Friday when you were explaining your thesis argument. I thought he was going to combust from sexual tension."

Before you can blatantly disagree, you hear an all too familiar voice behind you.

"Sexual tension about what now?"

Your stomach drops directly through the floor. You turn around carefully, and there he is—Armin Arlert, campus's newest digital sensation, standing there with that signature bemused expression he gets when he catches you and Sasha gossiping. His blonde hair is mussed like he's been running his hands through it, and he's wearing that adorable blue sweater that brings out his eyes deliciously.

"Oh, um..." You scramble for an explanation, panicking on the inside. "We were just talking about... about..."

"About how Professor Ackerman's lectures are basically academic foreplay," Sasha jumps in smoothly. "All that tension and buildup with no satisfying conclusion. I mean, hello?"

Armin laughs, the sound warm and comforting. "That's fascinatingly accurate, I’ll admit." He shifts his weight, and you only then notice he's carrying his laptop bag and what seems to be a bag of takeout. "Mind if I join you? I brought Thai food and figured you might be hungry since you've been here since—," he checks his phone, "—9 A.M., according to the text you sent complaining about how it’s criminal that the library opens so early on weekends."

Your heart does a little flip at his consideration. "You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to." He slides into the chair next to you, close enough that you can smell his cologne—a rich blend of velvety caramel and toasted cinnamon that positively makes you want to lick him all over. 

Stop. None of that, you horny bastard.

"Besides, I figured you might want to hear about the latest developments in my accidental internet fame."

Sasha perks up at once. "Hell, yeah. Have you been recognised on campus yet?"

"Five times yesterday," Armin appears to lament, pulling containers out of the bag. "Including once in the bathroom, which was... awkward, to say the least." He hands you your usual order without asking what you want. "But the weirdest part is definitely the DMs."

"DMs?" you pipe up, failing to ignore how domestic this feels what with him knowing exactly what you like. Typical, precious Armin.

"You have no idea," he opens his laptop and turns it toward you two with a nervous twitch. "I've gotten marriage proposals, offers to 'show me a good time,' and at least a hundred messages asking about my tongue piercing specifically."

Your face burns as you push away the thought that you've been mentally composing similar messages. "That's... wow."

"The worst part is, most of them are asking if I'd be interested in demonstrating its uses." He fidgets with his glasses, coming across as embarrassed but also endearing. "I had no idea that thing would cause such a reaction."

"Well, it is pretty noticeable," Sasha remarks with a meaningful peek at you. "Very... attention-grabbing."

"I guess." Armin glances at you pointedly. "What do you think? You've seen the video, right?"

The question is innocent enough, but something in his tone makes you look at him more carefully. There's an out-of-the-ordinary implication that you can't quite put your finger on. "Uh... yeah, I've seen it," you manage to croak out. Terrific. Could you get any stiffer?

"And?"

"And what?"

"What did you think?"

You stare at him blankly, trying to figure out if this is a normal friend question or if you’re incorrectly perceiving the foreign edge of curiosity behind it. "I thought... I mean, your book recommendations were really good. Very passionate."

"Passionate," he repeats, the fleeting flash of understanding across his face confirming your earlier weariness. "That's interesting."

Sasha's phone cuts through the uneasiness with its incessant buzzing, and she scans it with obviously fake surprise. "Oh no, would you look at that. I have to go... meet... someone... about... a... very real thing... I have." She begins gathering her stuff with awfully suspicious speed. "You two have fun talking about books. And passion. And tongue piercings."

"Huh? Wait. Sasha—" you squeak out, but she's already dashing out of the private study room you had booked for the both of you until late afternoon (traitor). Which leaves you alone with Armin, who's scrutinising you with an expression you can't quite read.

"Alright," he speaks after a moment, closing his laptop and leaning back in his chair. "Want to tell me what you actually thought about the video?"

"I already told you."

"No, you gave me the safe answer." He tilts his head slightly, studying you with purpose. "Come on, we've been friends for two years. I know when you're holding back."

You hastily shove some noodles in your mouth, avoiding his gaze. "I'm not holding back."

"Really? Because Sasha seemed to think you had some important opinions about it."

You make a mental note to start drafting your plan for the girl’s well-deserved comeuppance. "Sasha talks too much."

"She does," Armin agrees. "But she's usually right about things. Especially when it comes to you."

The rarely there confidence in his tone makes you look up and, when you meet his gaze, the intensity catches you off guard. "What do you want me to say?"

"Did you know," he continues conversationally, "that TikTok shows you analytics about who's viewed your videos?"

Almost instantly, your heart stops. "What?"

"Mhm. Very detailed analytics. Including multiple views from the same account." His lips quirk up in a small smile. "Want to guess how many times your account shows up in my viewer list?"

You feel heat creeping up your neck. "I don't know what you're talking about." You briefly consider denying reality, blaming a technical issue, or claiming a glitch in the matrix—but none of it sticks.

"Seventy-seven times," he announces, the metaphorical checkmate hitting you straight in the chest. "As of this morning."

Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god. He knows. "I can explain—"

"Can you?" He angles himself forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Because I've been trying to figure out why my very good friend has watched a boring thirty-second video of me talking about books seventy-seven times."

You want to run away, mouth opening and closing like a fish. "I... the algorithm is weird sometimes?"

Armin chuckles, low and warm, absent of any malice. "Try again."

"I was checking to see if the view count was going up?"

"Nope."

You're quiet for a long moment, trying to figure out how to get out of this without completely humiliating yourself. You don't suppose it's too late to jump out of a window? Ultimately, you sigh in defeat. "Okay, fine. Maybe I watched it a few times."

"A few?"

You narrow your eyes, crossing your arms in defiance at the unsolicited endless interrogation. "More than a few."

"How many more?"

You want to strangle him, and not in the sexy way. "You’re being annoying."

"Come on." His voice has dropped slightly lower, and there's something almost akin to teasing in it. "I told you about the marriage proposals. Fair's fair."

You mutter a profanity under your breath, groaning. "Fine. I watched it a lot. Happy?"

"No. We’re getting there, though. Why?"

"Why what?"

Armin’s glee sharpens into something ravenous, a flicker of desperation lurking beneath his carefree demeanour—like he’s itching for you to say exactly what he needs. "Why did you watch it seventy-seven times?"

Your lungs feel too tight, too exposed. "Because..."

"Because?"

"Because you looked really good, okay?" The words come out in a rush. "Because watching you talk about literally anything is incredibly attractive, and because that frustrating part where your tongue piercing shows has been tormenting me ever since the video came out."

The silence that follows is eerily deafening. Armin simply stares at you, and you wish the ground would swallow you whole.

"Shit," you grumble, burying your face in your hands. "I'm sorry. That was completely out of line. I know we're friends and I shouldn't have—"

"Hey. Look at me."

The way he asks convinces you to peep through your fingers, reluctant but unable to look away. His expression is attentive and focused—definitely not one of disgust.

"You think I'm attractive?" he questions softly.

"I... yes?"

He blinks, his usual calm shattered by the raw vulnerability in your voice. His fingers tremble, revealing the fierce hope inside that there’s a potential chance that someone sees him as more than the sum of his quirks.  "Even though I'm just a loser who gets excited about obscure paranormal documentaries and spends too much time playing video games?"

"Especially because of that," you admit, having never been more sure of yourself.

His answering smile is slow and devastating. "Good to know."

"Good to know?"

He hums, reaching across the table, and gently pulls your hands away from your face. "I've been wondering if you'd ever see me as more than just your friend who helps you with your homework."

Your brain, without a doubt, malfunctions. "What?"

"Did you really think I started bringing you food and staying up late just because I'm a good friend?"

The words disarm you. You’re trapped between incredulity and the dawning comprehension of what he might be suggesting. "I…"

"And did you think I learned how to play your favourite songs on guitar just because I had time to spare?"

"Y-you said you wanted to practice—"

"And I presume you thought I got this piercing because I was feeling rebellious?"

That stops you short, confusion apparent in the furrow of your brows. "You didn't?"

Armin's grin turns almost predatory. "I got it because I overheard you and Sasha talking about how cool you find them. This was back in October, after you'd been dating that guy with the lip ring."

You feel like a kettle left on the stove too long. "You... what?"

"You said, and I quote, 'There's something about tongue piercings that's beyond exciting.’ Something along the lines of how the person has to be bold enough to get it, but there's the simultaneous insinuation of what they can do with it."

"I’m going to kill myself," you gape at him in horror. "You heard all of that?"

"I was sitting right behind you in the campus coffee shop. You weren’t exactly shy about it." He shifts closer, and you can spot the hint of silver when he speaks, "I made an appointment that very afternoon."

"You got a tongue piercing because of something I said about another guy?"

"I got a tongue piercing because I wanted to be the guy you were talking about."

The confession hangs in the air between you, charged and electric. You stare at him, trying to process this complete change in everything you thought you knew about your friendship. 

"I've been trying to get your attention for months. I was starting to think I'd have to do something drastic."

In spite of being made to face terrifying revelation after revelation, you manage to stutter out a breathless laugh. "More drastic than getting a tongue piercing for me?" 

"I was considering learning to play your favourite video game."

You snort despite yourself. "You hate that game."

He shrugs casually, as if the lengths to which he would go for you knew no bounds. "I know. That's how desperate I was getting."

The atmosphere between you feels tense now, full of possibility and two years of unspoken tension. Armin traces your knuckles and the simple touch sends heat shooting up your arm.

"So," you say, trying to stay as composed as you possibly can. "What happens now?"

"Now," he starts, standing up, "you tell me what exactly you were thinking about during those seventy-seven views."

He's close enough that you have to tilt your head back to look at him, and the unwavering want in the blue of his eyes makes your breath catch. "I was thinking..." you trail off, feeling timid with his attention on you.

"You can do it. Use your words for me?" his voice has gotten rougher, huskier, and it sends delightful shivers down your spine.

"I was thinking about what it would feel like."

"What would feel like?"

"Your piercing. When you..." You gesture vaguely, cheeks burning. Armin's hand comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing across your bottom lip. "When I what?"

"When you kiss me," you whisper.

"Just kissing?" The question is loaded with underlying intentions, and you shake your head slowly.

"Tell me what else you were thinking about."

"Armin..."

"Please." The plea is hushed but insistent. "I want to know what's been going through your head."

You swallow, your throat suddenly dry as you let go of the entirety of your self-restraint. "I was thinking about what it would feel like on my body. What it would feel like when you use your mouth on me."

His pupils immediately dilate at your words. "Fuck."

"Is that... is that okay?"

Instead of verbally affirming, he leans down and kisses you. It's gentle at first, tentative, but when you react by fisting your hands in his sweater and pulling him closer, he deepens it. The first brush of his tongue against yours has you gasping, and when you feel the metal of his piercing, it sends intoxicating pleasure shooting through you.

You break apart, breathing heavily, and Armin rests his forehead against yours.

"How was that?" he asks earnestly, voice raspy.

"Good," you breathe. "Really good."

His smile is full of care but there's primal desire behind it. "And the piercing?"

"Want more of it."

He brushes his thumb across your lip again. Truth be told, it’s plain torture. "You know, we're in public right now."

Every wall you built is crumbling under the weight of him, and all you can do is let it. "I know."

"Anyone could walk by and see us."

"I know."

"And you don't care?"

You drag your hand up his thigh, stopping just shy of where he clearly wants it, "Not even a little bit."

He kisses you again, harder this time, and you can't help the soft moan that escapes when his tongue meets yours in another dance of display. The sound seems to flip a switch in him, because his hands are tangling in your hair and he's pressing you back against your chair.

"God, you have no idea how long I've wanted to do this," he murmurs against your lips.

"Tell me ‘Min."

"Since freshman year. Since that first day in psych class when you argued with Professor Smith about the ethics of behavioural modification."

You draw away just barely, shaking under the intimacy of his declaration. "That long?"

"That long." He doesn’t think twice before trailing his teeth along your jaw, and when the metal of his piercing digs into your flushed skin, you whimper needily. 

"You were so assertive, so brilliant. I was completely and utterly gone."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because you were dating that business major asshole, and then when you broke up, we became friends,” he hesitantly halts his ministrations to flutter his eyelashes at you, “I-I didn't want to ruin it." 

Good heavens, you didn’t stand a chance from the beginning.

"But then you kept looking at me like... like you wanted me too, and I started hoping..."

"I did want you. I do want you." The admission comes out whinier than intended, but you can’t bring yourself to be bothered at this point. "So much."

His hands tighten in your hair. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You’re unaware of how many minutes pass as you lose yourself in the sensation of his mouth on yours, and the way he tastes like mint and something uniquely him. You dig your nails lightly into his sides, claiming him in an act of fervent possession. His breaths mingle with yours and the world outside your tangled bodies fades until there’s nothing but lust burning between you. By the end of it, your chests rise and fall in tandem.

"We should probably get out of here," he mumbles, peeking around the library.

Craving Armin has left you dazed, vision glassy as you attempt to make sense of your surroundings. "Right. Um, your place or mine?"

He pecks your nose, full of affection, tenderly guiding you. "Mine. My roommate's gone for the weekend."

You start gathering your things with shaky hands, hyperaware of the way Armin is observing you. When you bend over to pick up your bag, you hear his sharp intake of breath.

"Something wrong?" you ask innocently.

"N-nothing," he mutters, skittishly pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

The walk to his dorm feels like it takes forever, full of stolen glances and the kind of anticipation that makes your skin feel too tight. When you reach his room, he fumbles with his keys for a moment—so fucking cute—before getting the door open.

You haven’t had a lot of time this semester to crash at his dorm—neat and organised, with anime posters on the walls and stacks of books and manga everywhere. But you barely have time to take it in before he's pressing you against the closed door, urgency lacing his actions.

This time, there's nothing apprehensive about it. His hands are everywhere—your waist, your back, squeezing your ass—and when you arch against him, he makes a low sound of approval.

"You taste so good," he shudders against you. "Everything I’ve imagined and so much more."

"You imagined this?"

"Every night for two years." His mouth moves to your neck, nibbling along your throat. "What you'd look like, what you'd sound like when I made you come."

The words send heat pooling low in your belly, prompting you to press your thighs together instinctively. "Fuck, don’t say shit like that.”

"Why not? I’ve been longing for you. All of you," he whispers, pulling back to look at you with dark, lidded eyes. "You’re not getting away until I’ve had my fill."

It would be an understatement to say that you hadn’t foreseen this when you woke up today. That you'd be spending hours with your legs over Armin's shoulders, forgetting your own name; the compassionate, stammering genius the internet drooled over. Too bad he’s not on the market. It would be a treat if his fans could see him like this—flushed and breathless, fingers gripping your hips like he’d die without you. Armin Arlert, golden boy of TikTok, practically begging to let him ruin you.

You grow dizzy at the promise in his voice. "Please."

He lets his hand trail lower, indecently tranquil, and just as you think he’ll do something reckless—he pauses, smirking wickedly.

"Want to find out what this piercing really feels like when I eat you out?"

[conniesdurag]

nerdmin smut…coming soon?✅

[theepisceswriter]

Tonight’s dirty thought: Virgin!Armin’s first time being with you.

TW: very naughty naughty things with College!Armin but nothing too descriptive, that weird brainrot to headcanon to mini Drabble back to brainrot format I do because I got carried away, 18+, MINORS DNI!

Word count: 1618

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[meownotgood]

eats him

[mojifushiguro]

one thing sukuna always told himself, is that he'd never have kids.

they're a burden, and they're disrespectful. all they do is run around, eat, shit, and sleep all over the place, and who has time to clean their mess?

at least... thats what he said before you "up and decided" to have twins.

sukuna sat, legs crossed in the middle of the couch, a scowl across his face as he felt his hair being tugged at by one baby, and his face being poked at my another.

"t- teef!" one said, pulling at sukunas lip to see his teeth.

his hair had all kinds of bows and glittery rubber bands in it. one side of his face was covered in drool, from the teething baby biting at his cheek, and the other side had a tiny scratch on it, from his other baby pulling at his face.

sukuna felt his patience getting low as you sat there on the other couch, painting your toes.

"da-da pink!" the teething child slapped sukunas forehead with her tiny hand countless amounts of times, doing the same with the back of his head while she jumped up and down.

the other child tried her best to crawl on his shoulders, slipping back on the couch and giggling to herself as she clapped.

when you finally brought your attention to sukuna, you locked eyes with his squinted ones, making you burst out laughing.

"'kunaaa, whats wrong?" you looked at your toes before switching feet.

"woman, you know whats wrong. these children are insufferable, and you won't get them." sukuna grumbled, flinching a little as he was about to get slapped right in the eye.

"they just love their daddy." you waved him off, making him groan and lean back on the couch.

the children mimicked his actions, slumping back into the couch with a frown face.

sukuna narrowed his eyes at both of them before crossing his arms and making a "hmph." sound.

they mimicked him again, hugging themselves and starting to hum, over, and over again.

"hey! stop that!" sukuna yelled, standing up and starting to walk away. but thanks to one of their tiny car toys, you heard something roll away, followed by a thump.

suddenly, your children started uncontrollably laughing, getting off the couch and waddle-running over to their dad, who laid on the floor, face up.

"daddy fall! daddy fall!" they yelled in sync, clapping their hands as they laughed, falling out together on the floor.

you stood up, giggling and waking over to sukuna, as the kids started to crawl on his stomach and leg.

you couldn't help but laugh, wiping the corner of your eye and leaning down.

"are you okay, 'kuna?"

sukuna laid in a starfish position with a frown, looking up at you, then down at his children.

"no."

[conniesdurag]

dude does anyone else find it weird in levi x reader fics where levi gets jealous of y/n talking to eren, jean, armin etc? Like theres at least a 15 yr age gap (not doing the math) like i promise you levi is not throwing a fit over his gf conversing with teenagers??