onyankopon didn’t even blink. arms crossed, shoulder against the doorframe, eyes locked on the fur skirt like it owed him money. “you know where. the closet. pick sum’ else.”
“i did pick something else.” you turned back to the mirror, pressing your lips together to set the gloss. “i picked this.”
“pick again.”
“i’m good, thanks.”
“you not leaving in that.”
“watch me.”
his jaw shifted. “i am watching you. that’s the problem. i can see everything and i’m your boyfriend.”
“congratulations.” you clicked the cap back on your gloss and dropped it in your bag. “you have eyes.”
“so does every other man on the street.” his voice sharpened. “that the point? you want them looking?”
you turned around slowly. “excuse me?”
he held your gaze. didn’t repeat himself. didn’t have to.
“are you serious right now?” your voice dropped. “you’re really standing there implying–”
“i’m not implying anything. i’m asking.”
“because normal people with normal boyfriends don’t get asked that.” you laughed, short and humorless. “they get told they look nice and they leave.”
“normal boyfriends don’t have to watch their girl walk out looking like a–” he stopped.
the room temperature felt like it had dropped ten degrees.
“looking like a what?” you asked slowly.
he pressed his lips together and looked away briefly but the damage was already hanging in the air between you.
“don’t.” you hated how your voice wobbled on just that one word. “don’t you ever finish that sentence.”
“i wasn’t going to.”
“you were thinking it.”
“i’m thinking a lot of things right now.” he pushed off the doorframe and stepped in, and his voice had gone cold in a way it almost never did with you. “i’m thinking that you’ve got an attitude over a skirt. i’m thinking that you’re so busy being defensive that you won’t hear me say i don’t want strangers looking at what’s mine–”
“i’m not yours–”
“you know what i meant–”
“no, say what you mean, ony, since you’re saying everything else tonight–”
“i mean–” he exhaled hard through his nose. “i mean you look like you’re trying to prove something and i don’t know who you proving it to, but it’s not–”
“i got dressed for me.” your throat tightened without permission. “i got dressed because i wanted to feel good. that’s it. that’s the whole reason. and you–” you gestured at him, at the entire situation. “you standing there making it into something weird and i didn’t do anything–”
“i didn’t say you did–”
“you implied it!” your voice cracked and you hated it. “you literally stopped yourself mid sentence because of what you almost called me–”
“i didn’t call you anything.”
“you wanted to.”
he looked at you in silence. really looked, and something in his expression shifted when he registered the gloss in your eyes, the way your jaw was working to hold everything back.
but he didn’t say sorry because he was too stubborn.
“change the skirt,” he said quietly. “and then we can talk.”
“no.” the first tear spilled over and you turned away fast, grabbing your bag and plopping on the bed, voice furious. “we can talk when you figure out the difference between protecting me and insulting me.”
he didn’t move from the doorway and you didn’t move from the bed as the silence stretched like a live wire between you.
onyankopon’s shoulders rose and fell in stress but his eyes were anything but. they dragged down your body— over the tight crop top, the gloss still shining on your lips, and especially the skirt that had started this whole argument as the muscle in his jaw flexed again.
you swiped at the tear that had escaped, furious at yourself for letting it fall. “move,” you muttered while standing and stepping toward the door.
he didn’t move but instead he reached out, large hand wrapping around your wrist, firm enough to stop you. his thumb brushed the inside of your wrist, right over your racing pulse.
“don’t,” he said, voice low and rough. “don’t walk out like this.”
you laughed, bitter. “like what? dressed like a slut?”
his grip tightened for half a second then loosened. “i didn’t say that.”
“you were gonna.”
he exhaled through his nose, then did the last thing you expected. he tugged you forward until your chest bumped his as one big hand slid to the small of your back, holding you there. the other came up to cup your jaw, thumb wiping the tear track off your cheek with a gentleness that made your stomach flip.
“i’m an asshole,” he admitted, so quiet it almost didn’t sound like him. “i saw you in that skirt and all i could think about was every other nigga in the club staring at what’s mine. not ‘cause you did anything wrong. ‘cause i’m selfish as fuck when it comes to you.”
your breath hitched. “that’s not–”
“i know.” his forehead dropped to yours. “i know it ain’t fair. you look… goddamn, baby. you look good enough to make me lose my mind. that’s the problem.”
the anger in your chest cracked, heat flooding in to replace it. you hated how fast your body reacted to him— his scent, the solid wall of his chest, the way his fingers were already slipping under the hem of your tiny fur skirt like he couldn’t help himself.
“then stop trying to control me,” you whispered but your hands were already fisting in his shirt.
“i’m not.” his lips brushed your temple, then your cheek, then hovered right over your mouth. “i’m asking you to let me take care of you. right now.”
you opened your mouth to argue again and he kisses you, swallowing the last of your protest. his tongue pushing past your lips like he was trying to erase the whole fight. you moaned into it, involuntary, and he used the sound against you, backing you up until your thighs hit the edge of the bed.
he broke the kiss only to drop to his knees.
“ony–”
“shh.” his palms slid up the backs of your thighs, pushing the skirt higher until it bunched around your waist. he pressed an open mouthed kiss to the front of your lace panties, eyes flicking up to yours. “this what you wanted to wear? then let me see it properly.”
he hooked his fingers in the waistband and dragged the panties down your legs, letting the fabric catch on your skin. the second they hit the floor he buried his face between your thighs, tongue dragging up your slit in one filthy stroke.
your knees buckle as he catches you, hands gripping your ass, and lifted one of your legs over his shoulder so he could eat you like a man who’d been starving for it. no teasing, just greedy slurps, sucking your clit into his mouth until your head falls back and a broken moan tears out of you.
“fuck- onyyy”
he groaned against you, the vibration shooting straight to your core. two thick fingers pushed inside without warning, curling hard against that spot that made your mouth gape open. he pumped them in and out, tongue flicking relentlessly, while the hand on your ass kept you pinned to his mouth.
you came embarrassingly fast, legs shaking, thighs clamping around his head, and a choked cry ripping from your throat as pleasure slammed through you like a freight train.
he didn’t stop until you were whimpering, oversensitive and twitching. only then did he pull back, lips shiny, And eyes wild. he stood, towering over you, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand like it was nothing.
“still mad?” he asked while rubbing the leg that was just shaking over his shoulder.
you could barely speak as you just grab his shirt and yank him down into another kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue. he growled, lifting you clean off the floor and tossing you onto the bed.
clothes came off in a blur, his shirt, your top, and the skirt finally shoved up around your waist because he refused to take it off. “keep it on,” he muttered against your neck, teeth grazing your pulse. “you wanted to wear it? then you’re wearing it while i fuck you.”
he freed himself from his jeans, thick and heavy and already leaking. one hand wrapped around your thigh, spreading you open. the head of his cock nudged your entrance, slick from your orgasm, and he pushed in slowly at first, letting you feel every inch stretch you open.
“shit,” he hissed, forehead pressed to yours. “so fucking tight. always so fucking tight for me.”
you arched, nails digging into his back as he bottomed out. the skirt was bunched uselessly at your hips, the fur rubbing against your skin with every thrust. he set a punishing rhythm, each snap of his hips driving the breath out of you.
“mine,” he growled against your ear, hand sliding up to wrap lightly around your throat, not squeezing, just holding. “this pussy? mine. this body? mine. you wear whatever the fuck you want, but when you come home, this–” he slammed in harder, making you cry out. “–pussy is what i get. understand?”
you nodded frantically, tears of a completely different kind pricking your eyes from how good it felt.
“say it.”
“it’s yours– fuck– pa. it’s your pussy!”
he rewarded you by dropping his hand between you, thumb circling your clit in perfect strokes. your second orgasm crashed into you without warning, walls fluttering around him, pulling him deeper.
he cursed, hips stuttering. “that’s it, mama. milk me. let me fill you up.”
three more brutal thrusts and he buried himself to the hilt, groaning your name as he came in thick pulses that spilled deep inside you until you were dripping with it.
for a long moment the only sound was both of you breathing hard.
then he collapsed half on top of you, careful not to crush you, and pressed a soft kiss to your sweaty temple.
“i’m sorry,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “for real. i was out of line.”
you swallowed, throat raw, and rubbing your fingers on his freshly cute fade. “you’re still an asshole.”
he huffed a tired laugh. “yeah but i’m your asshole.”
you smiled despite yourself, legs still tangled with his, and his cock still softening inside you.
“next time,” you whispered, “just tell me i look good before you lose your mind.”
he kissed the corner of your mouth, slow and sweet.
“deal. but baby?” his hand smoothed down your side, possessive even now. “you still ain’t leaving the house in that skirt tonight.”
“baby-” his voice catches, breaking into a breathy, helpless sound as your hips settle back down, “please… just-let me-”
his grip tightens on your hips, fingers digging in like he’s trying to ground himself, like it’s the only thing keeping him from completely falling apart
you’re being a little mean
every time his expression tightens, every time his breath stutters like he’s right on the edge-you stop. letting your walls slowly drag up, pausing when only his tip rests inside you
His head tips back, throat exposed, a loud, broken whimper slipping out while you latch onto his throat, teeth and tongue making a mess of his pretty, milky skin
“god-” he exhales, tossing his head side to side like he’s trying to convince himself to hold out, “you’re-you’re doing this on-nngh-on purpose…”
you hum softly, dropping your hips back down, quietly giggling when his breath stutters and his back arches off the bed
“I can’t-” his voice drops into a whine, chest rising and falling in rapid breaths, “i-ah-im gonna cum baby-please”
he looks so pretty like this, fucked out and desperate. you decide you’ve tortured him enough, lifting your hips and dropping them back down in a steady slap, slap, slap that picks up in pace
his words cut off completely, replaced by a sharp inhale that breaks into a loud moan. his hands squeezing you tighter against his body as he lifts one to back of your head, dragging your lips to his in a messy kiss
you keep the same quick rhythm for all of 10 seconds before he lets out a wrecked moan, burying his face into your neck as he fills you
you keep going, teetering him on the edge of too much as his groans break into whimpers, hands squeezing and pushing like he isn’t sure if he wants you closer or farther away
you finally slow your movements to a complete stop, armin’s still hard cock resting inside of you, cum slowly leaking out around the sides of him
you lean down to kiss him, and he melts into it, breath still uneven, hands sliding up your back to keep you on him
a quiet, shaky sound slips out of him when you pull away, and he leans forward to press slow, dragging kisses across your shoulder
you shift just enough to look at him, catching the way his face flushes deeper, the way he won’t meet your eyes
he looks wrecked, lashes damp, lips parted, chest still rising too fast
you go to pull off of him, and his hands holding your waist tighten
“…don’t stop,” he breathes, the words slipping out before he can think better of it
“want more, baby?” you tease, lips ticking up in a mean smile
a look you’ve never seen before passes over his face, and before you have time to think about what it means he’s flipping you onto your back
your mouth parts in shock as his hand comes up to rest next to your head while the other one reached down to thumb at your clit
“m-min!” your breath hitching as he pulls his cock out, just enough to rest his tip inside of you, and then pushes back in, hips flush with yours, tip pressing into your cervix
it’s his turn for a faint smirk to slide across his face
Levi's road to confessing was arduous (to him) and full of longing
contains: angsty fluff. canon universe, reader joined the survey corps a little before Levi became Captain. mentions of canon typical events and minor character death. mostly focused on Levi's view of things. Miche and Erwin are rooting for the two of you, and they gossip about your relationship in their minuscule free time. slow burn ish. no smut.
wc: 6.2k
To Levi, meeting you felt like further proof that the world wanted to consistently push him to the edge of insanity, even if at a smaller scale than every unfortunate event of his past. It was the first time he felt completely weakened by something so harmless, idiotic infatuation.
He realized very early on, during your first week as a new member of the Corps, that he had an unparalleled interest in you. It appalled him.
For the first couple of months he refused to admit to himself that what he felt when you were around meant anything beyond idle curiosity.
He chalked up his harsh treatment of you during training to simply proving you were a good soldier; instead of what it actually was, a weak attempt to make you give up, because he felt someone like you shouldn’t have to deal with the horrors of the world.
He convinced himself the headaches he would get when you were called on for patrols or expeditions were just a result of his lack of sleep. And that the constant thoughts of you swirling in his mind every damn night would dissipate the longer you were around. He was very wrong about that.
He made it a point to not interact with you outside of training, missions, or briefings. Nonetheless, that didn’t mean he didn’t feed into his curiosity. As subtly as he could.
He watched you a lot. Enough to know that you were always late for breakfast, trained yourself to the bones even on your off days, volunteered to help around with anything you could, and were particularly good at mending clothes. He knew you liked eating with Hange almost every night, and it was the part of your day he enjoyed the most. On each of those nights he followed the two of you into the mess hall, sitting far enough that Hange wouldn’t get the idea of asking him to join, but still giving himself the appropriate distance to observe you. To commit to memory every little detail he could, how you ate, how you sat, what you talked about, if your nose also scrunched up at the disgusting taste of the tea everyone but him was subjected to; any information he could gather before the sound of your laugh warmed his chest enough to make him leave.
Truthfully, he could have kept that stalker-ish routine going for ages, and he fully intended to; being able to keep his distance while still getting the smallest doses of you seemed like an ideal arrangement in his mind.
It wasn’t until one damning night that he decided this restrictive mindset had to change. He saw you walking with another recruit, late, and alone. He couldn’t properly hear whatever wildly amusing conversation you were having from where he stood; regardless of that, he could still clearly make out the faint sound of your laugh accompanying it.
The small scene was enough to break him from his ridiculous self-imposed prison. Levi didn’t want to allow himself to indulge in his desires for you. He didn’t feel he deserved to be with you in any capacity further than working alongside each other. Despite that, the idea that someone else could come in and take from him the possibility of a chance with you was much more mortifying than his own insecurities and concerns.
From that alone, he made the decision to allow himself a sliver of your time. And so, the very next day you were graced with your first private conversation with the captain, if you could even call it that.
He approached you after you were done with training, standing against a wooden beam trying to steady your breathing, hair messy, and sweat coating your forehead.
“Your stance was horrible today.” The abruptness of his presence and his comment caught you off guard.
“What?” You looked at him with a puzzled look, processing whether he was actually addressing you or not.
“During training. You were terrible.” He explained, his tone maintaining its harshness despite your confusion.
“Oh. Yeah, I guess so, I’m out of my element today.” You explained plainly, a half-smile tugging on your lips both at the bluntness, and the fact this was probably the first time he came up to you alone.
“And yesterday as well.”
“Right.”
“You’re not sleeping well.” More of a statement than a question, the dark circles you've been sporting this week probably gave it away.
“I've been having a hard time with it, yes.”
He gave you a firm nod, pursing his lips together in thought.
“I’ll come find you tonight, I have a tea for that.” He turned around the moment he finished without a second look, not giving you an actual chance to accept or refuse.
Since then, the two of you started a small routine. He’d look for you after dinner and guide you on a brief walk to the top floor of the main building. A teapot and two cups already placed on the window ledge in the back of the room, with a singular candle lit close by; he hoped that the minimal amount of light would make his intense gaze less noticeable.
It was supposed to last only for however long you were struggling to sleep but continued far past those days. Most times he wouldn’t talk, only listened; he’d let you rattle on about the day if you pleased, indulging you by participating in idle gossip.
“I can reprimand them for that. I trust you’re aware.” He’d slip in when you shared a little too much about the escapades of some recruits, forgetting for a moment he had recently become your superior.
“Well, this is all alleged. Maybe I didn’t hear it right. This tea is great by the way; is it a different kind?" A blush creeping up your cheeks while you attempted to change the subject, looking at him with a sheepish smile that begged him to forget your prior information.
It took a few weeks, but he started contributing with topics of his own little by little. An opinion, a small anecdote, a complaint. Slowly chipping away at the facade of mystery and harshness that used to be all you got from him before. A part of Levi worried that the more you learnt about him, the less interested you’ll be, but the enjoyment he got from your small interactions vastly outweighed that concern.
A year into meeting you, Levi had grown accustomed to having you near him, even if for brief moments. He enjoyed your company and physically couldn't continue hiding it from you. He still kept enough distance to make his ever-growing feelings unknown to everyone else, and didn’t properly confess anything to you, but his advances grew slightly bolder.
Your nightly routine changed a lot from how it originally started. Moving from ten minutes of sipping tea in a semipublic space to secluded meetings in the dead of night. Going as far as sneaking you in his private quarters when he came back from travels you were not part of.
Being away from you became the key that pushed your connection forward. Every time he came back, he wanted to have you around for the night, and he needed the certainty that you wouldn’t be interrupted; the reassurance of it enabled him to make these encounters last for hours.
He sat in a wooden chair next to his desk, beckoning you closer with a simple command. “Show me what happened.”
“You can’t see the bruise with my uniform on.” You argued with a stifled laugh; you had complained to him about a minor injury you sustained recently, something insignificant that happened while he was gone.
“Then change.”
You stared at him bewildered.
“Do I have to do it for you?” His stern tone didn’t falter; it would’ve seemed like an order more than playful teasing, if it wasn’t for how relaxed he looked.
“You returned as tactful as ever, I see.” You laughed, amused at his actions. You made your way to the bedroom, missing the smirk on his face.
You returned to the room in a thin nightgown that made Levi tense at the sight, hands tucking into fists on his lap before relaxing again. His hand sprawled on the back of your right thigh without question once you stood in front of him, pulling it closer to properly view the wide bruise on the outer side of it; purplish hues going from your mid-thigh to the bottom of your glute.
“This is nothing to you?” It came out softer than he intended. Thinking of you being hurt when he wasn’t around, no matter how little, lowered his guard.
“It looks worse than it is.”
His hand carefully grazed the bruise, hiking up the edge of your gown in the process. You shivered at the touch. Goosebumps covered your skin, and it did not go unnoticed by him. “Does it hurt?”
“No. I think this helps.” You humored, not bothering to hide your enjoyment of his treatment.
“I’m sure it does, brat.” He smiled, small, but enough for you to notice. His hand still caressing your leg despite his response.
It took Levi five years to make his feelings for you properly known. But it’s not like you, or others, hadn’t suspected them before that. Despite keeping the matter private, much like most things about him, sometimes he struggled to adequately hide that he had a soft spot for you.
He never outright said he cared about you, never properly held you, but all the things he did do, they proved to be more intimate and sweeter than any regular courting could ever be.
For your first birthday after joining the Corps he went out of his way to gift you a treat from a bakery in your home district. It became a tradition that he fulfilled every year since; he’d go as far as getting it for you in advance if an expedition took place around the date, just in case one of you didn't make it back after.
In your second year, after an expedition where two members of your graduating class were tragically lost, he sneaked you into his quarters every night for a week—Both Erwin and Hange knew but they didn’t say word of it—he’d lay you down next to him, let you cry out your grieve for as long as you needed to, and patiently waited until you grew tired enough to sleep to get some shut-eye of his own.
“I’ll never get used to it, will I?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.
“No.” While your eyes were glued to the ceiling, Levi’s gaze was fixed on you. His expression was unreadable as usual, but he was completely tormented, wishing he could take this hurt away from you.
“Am I being weak?”
“You’re being human.”
“That’s a yes.” You smiled, attempting to joke, yet the humor in your voice didn’t reach your eyes. Tears fell down in a stream, and Levi had to try his hardest not to reach out and wipe them off your cheeks. “I just—” Your voice broke. To him, the sound evoked a feeling adjacent to being stabbed. “I feel I should be stronger than this. I shouldn’t be surprised over what I signed up for.”
“You’re not surprised; you’re hurt.” Levi chastised, shifting his position to look at you properly. “You did your job, you don’t have to be strong now. Now stop this nonsense of acting like it's shameful to grieve. At least don't do it with me.”
You didn’t say anything—instead looking back at the ceiling while your hand found his arm, curling up to his side when the tears started burning your eyes once again.
He didn’t try to hold you, but he didn’t pull away. Even after you fell asleep.
In your third year, when Erwin told him he’d be pulling you out of his team to make you a squad leader, he became sick almost immediately. The notion that you would no longer be under his supervision, that even if you went on the same expeditions as he did, he’d have to wait until the very end before he could know if you were still alive. It circled his head all morning and gave him a headache so outstanding he had to dismiss himself from training that afternoon.
“What do you think?” Erwin ended the silence that persisted since he broke the news.
Levi stared absentmindedly. “I think she’ll be a fantastic leader.”
“Is that it?”
“Are you asking for my permission?”
“No, I simply respect you enough to ask for your opinion.”
“Unless you’re willing to put my preferences above what’s best for humanity, don't ask for my opinion on what you should do with her.”
“Because your preference would be to retire her immediately?” Erwin prodded, with no real expectation for Levi to speak up. It wasn’t the first time he brought you up, and it wouldn’t be the last if Levi kept refusing to trust him with this information. “You don’t have to answer that. I understand you want to avoid telling me what I already know.”
Following your change in rank, the order of retreating met Levi with a wave of asphyxiating dread rather than relief, one that didn’t dissipate until he was able to spot you on your horse, still breathing and in one piece. These concerns were never brought up to you or anyone else for that matter—despite Erwin being aware and willing to speak with him about it if he could just be honest—even if his fear of losing you and not being able to do anything about it grew stronger with every expedition, he kept his worries regarding your well-being private. You always returned; he had no reason to discuss anything he felt. If you were alive and well, he’d be able to mask his love for you for a while longer.
It wasn’t until your fifth year as a member of the Survey Corps when his ‘while longer’ ended. When he had to come to terms with his fears, and his feelings.
He kept his composure as best as he could while going through the list of those dead and missing with Erwin, watching other scouts load bodies into carriages, though he’s sure it did not go unnoticed how tightly he was gripping his gear while he waited for every name to be read. Even then, after all bodies were loaded, the trek to the walls started, and confirmation that you were not one of those lost received; his heartbeat did not return to a healthy rhythm. He needed to see you.
This was the most stressed he ever felt trying to find you after an expedition. Deep down, he could feel something about today was different, as if you not being okay was something he could physically feel. And it didn’t help the fact that it took him so long to spot you; carriages and horses already on the move to safety without him being able to catch a single glimpse of you.
Every second that passed he could feel his body tense further, cold sweat reaching his palms, a knot tight in his throat that only got tighter the moment he saw you. That sickening feeling of dread he thought he had grown used to crashed down on him and threatened to finish him right then and there. He spotted you being carried by Miche when he made it past the wall. Your body limp in his hold, your inability to even keep your head up made Levi assume the worst and had him rush in your direction before he even realized it.
He got off the horse calm and collected, as if his heart wasn’t threatening to rip itself out of his chest. His relief upon seeing you were still breathing was immediate, yet short-lived as he paid more attention to your injuries. Your left thigh and arm were bandaged. There was blood all over you, dripping from your nose, your mouth, and the seams of the binds on your wounded limbs; you must’ve been hurt close before the order to retreat was given.
It made him sick and brought a vile sting to his eyes, a sensation he had long forgotten.
“She’s okay.” Miche assured him, smiling lightly at how Levi was frowning at you as though telepathically reprimanding you for getting to this state. “Nothing’s broken, but she’s weak. She couldn’t keep riding.”
Levi nodded firmly, not trusting himself to speak right away. He reached under your body, taking you in his arms with little protest from the other man. “I’ll take her. I don’t want her in a carriage.”
“She’d be laying down.” Miche pointed out yet still took a step back once Levi had a solid hold on you, not really wanting to interfere.
“She’d be alone.”
Miche nodded, holding back his reaction at what the captain was displaying, and promptly retreating to his horse; more than ready to get back and tell Erwin about this little interaction.
You were conscious enough to hear the conversation, although far too drained to register the worry behind Levi’s tone let alone comment on it. You had half a mind to realize he carried you back to his horse, helping you on it before getting behind you. He took a hold of the handle and took off in a slow ride, while his left arm went around your waist, keeping you tucked back against him.
One of your hands went to his forearm, giving it a small squeeze to show your acknowledgement before relaxing again.
“Are you okay?” He questioned quietly. Not that anyone would be able to hear him past the sound of hooves against the ground and the many murmurs of civilians watching them pass by.
You turned your head enough to look at him out of the corner of your eye. The concern written all over his face almost made you forget the waves of pain crashing through you. You nodded, small, before letting the back of your head rest on his shoulder; the tiny action having wasted the remainder of your energy.
“Liar.” He murmured against your hair, the touch of his lips against your scalp so fleeting you could only assume you imagined it.
That night Levi had been more consumed in his own thoughts than he would have appreciated. You were out most of the ride back to the base; the only thing keeping you upright was his firm hold on you that didn’t falter once. He spent that time wondering what happened, how did you injure yourself, did somebody help you, did you have to drag yourself all the way to your horse and pretend you didn’t feel so bad until it was inevitable?
He imagined every single heartbreaking scenario his brain could come up with, images of you crying out while you bled in the woods flashed through his mind, torturing himself with the idea that maybe you had been near him, maybe you even called out for him and he didn’t hear it, trying to find ways to blame himself for your poor state.
He woke you gently once you made it to the base, helping you off the horse and onto your feet, guiding you to wrap an arm over his shoulder to steady yourself when you were unable to suppress your limping. Everything was a blur for you, every step you took forgotten when the next one happened.
You could remember briefly smiling at Hange when she approached the two of you, catching some of their conversation, and Levi whisking you away before you could manage a goodbye.
“You really busted yourself out there.” You chuckled at her comment and winced immediately after, a stabbing pain reaching your ribs, the mixed noise making her laugh. “You’re okay?”
You nodded, not getting the time to answer before Levi interjected. “She is.” He stated, adjusting his grasp on your hip when you clutched your side.
“Right… I’ll get one of the scouts to take her to the infirmary. Erwin wants to talk to us.”
“No.” Levi spoke up before Hange could even attempt turning on her heel. “I will take care of it, and I’ll go to his office after. Tell him I’ll only be a moment.” He kept walking without another word, not giving her any time to make a comment on his behavior.
He took you to his quarters, helping you out of your stained cloak and muddied boots before starting to undo the soaked bandages on your limbs. He seemed unaffected by the sight he was met with, the gashes and lacerations covered in dried blood were nothing he hadn’t seen before; but the fact that they were on your body, it brought a shake to his hands he was completely unfamiliar with and he thanked the heavens you were too busy scrunching your eyes together at the stinging feel of him cleaning the open wounds to notice it.
You don’t know if you talked, if he asked you anything, you don’t think so. The only thing you committed to memory was the feel of hardened hands touching you in the softest ways imaginable, guiding you to his bed when he was done and easing you into laying down. He caressed your face before he moved away; the way he looked at you a mixture of longing and thinly veiled restraint.
He left almost as soon as he laid you down, knowing that if you said anything, if you made even the slightest sound, he’d discard his meeting altogether to lay next to you.
Levi came back less than an hour after with a thick bag under his arm, having raided your room before coming to gather anything you might need. He was being exceedingly obvious today; he knew more than well his friends no longer needed a heartfelt confession to know exactly why he had been so special to you in the past five years with how he's behaved, but for once he couldn’t care less about that matter.
He found you just as he had left you, now asleep with your mouth slightly agape. Your messy hair tussled all around was the only indication that you moved while he was gone. He pulled a chair next to the bed, not wanting to risk waking you up; ready to patiently wait until he could get you out of your filthy, blood-stained uniform. Your change of clothes and a clean set of sheets awaiting next to him already.
He doesn’t know how long you were asleep for, but it continued through enough hours for him to follow suit at some point.
He vaulted out of the chair when you woke up with a loud cry; the sound was completely gut-wrenching.
“What happened? What’s wrong?!” He grabbed you by the shoulders with a desperate pull, his eyes searching for yours. The sting of tears threatening to break free he felt earlier returned with a vengeance when you coughed up blood, tears streaming down your face.
“Talk to me, angel. Please.” He begged, hands reaching for your face, wiping your tears. You didn’t speak, didn’t explain what was ailing you, instead your cries became louder, deafening.
Levi could feel his heartbeat hammering in his chest, and before he could do anything, more blood came out of your mouth, then your nose, then from your wounds, white bandages drowned in the crimson red liquid. He couldn’t find the words; he didn’t even know what to do. He frantically moved around the room, searching for anything to wipe the blood with, to apply pressure and stop this someway.
Before he knew it, his own eyes were welled up with tears as he desperately tried to stop you from bleeding out, the sound of your crying overwhelming him completely.
“You’re going to be okay. You’re okay.” He repeated like a mantra, the room spinning around him when he looked at the pool of blood under you. He wiped his tears with his forearm. His heartbeat grew louder, and the sound of it seemed to echo through the room.
You wouldn’t stop crying, and God, you wouldn’t stop bleeding, it was futile to try. Your hands went to his shoulders, bringing him closer to you while you sobbed hysterically.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do.” He wrapped his arms around you tightly, crying onto your hair, hopelessly clinging to you. “I can’t do anything. Please forgive me, angel. Please.” He wept, his grip tightening the quieter your cries became; your energy depleted the longer you kept bleeding.
“Don’t leave me.” It became uncontrollable; he felt completely out of himself, the sound of his thunderous heartbeat, the feel of your blood on his hands, the pain in his chest crushing him further and further. “Please don’t leave me.”
“Levi?... Levi.” He woke up with a jolt to see you standing above him, mind completely fogged by the images his brain came up with. His eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness of the room, looking around the now empty bed then back to your fragile frame.
The glow of the moon coming from the window was the only source of light, but it was enough to see you properly; not in tears, and not bleeding out. Instead, you were looking at him with a puzzled expression, an arm cradling your midsection as you tried your best to stand upright.
“Are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“I’m—” He closed his mouth before continuing, rubbing his eyes before he looked at you again, a slight wet feeling coating his fingertips—was he crying?—it was just a dream. “Don’t worry. Is something wrong?”
“I wanted to get out of all this blood. But I could barely make it a few steps past the bed.”
He hummed, burying his face in his hands for a moment, trying to regain his composure. “I’ll help you.” His eyes found you again, narrowed. Going over every inch of your body to make sure nothing was out of the ordinary, to prove to himself that you wouldn’t randomly start bleeding out in front of him. He debated telling you about his dream, telling you about how worried he was earlier and how the stress of his concerns was swallowing him whole right now, but that would mean delving into a conversation he’s unsure he’d be good at. Maybe he’ll need to practice it.
He walked you to the bathroom, arm stretched out for you to hold onto through every step. “You look terrible.” He murmured, helping you stand in front of the small tub.
“Aren’t you sweet.” You laughed dryly, slowly loosening your grip on his forearm to let him stand back.
You and Levi stared at each other willfully, both waiting for the other to take the next step.
“Can you do it alone?” He asked while reaching for the top button of your shirt, undoing it slowly, waiting for you to form a response, groggy and restless voice adding something new to his usual stoic tone.
You wanted to object, tell him he didn’t need to continue. But you were sure you’d end up falling face first on the floor at some point if he wasn’t holding onto you. “Maybe I could.”
“Sure.” He muttered, gaze focused on where his hands started to undo the rest of your shirt, a deep frown covering his features at the side of fresh red bruises covering your left side.
He carefully undid the bandages on your arm to slowly slide off the shirt. You didn’t care to watch his movements; you couldn’t look away from his face, how concentrated he was, how troubled he seemed over your wounds. It made you smile, both that and the pink tint of his cheeks when he exposed you further.
If you knew him less, you would’ve asked him to kiss you right then and there, but by now you knew well his only answer to that would be questioning if you were concussed.
Levi kept himself from speaking. Too focused on the crushing weight in his heart over the sight of your bruised and battered frame, a weight that grew more draining the more of your clothes he got rid off.
His mind also trotted over the idea of kissing you. He thought about it every single day, but now more than ever he wished he had done so before. That way he could pepper every single inch of your body with small soothing kisses now and it wouldn’t be strange, there wouldn’t be a possibility of you freaking out, because by now you would’ve been used to his affections.
If only he had been braver about it before.
He desperately wished to hold you tenderly in his arms, to caress your skin and kiss you senselessly, trusting that every bit of his devotion would help you forget about the pain you must be feeling.
“What happened?” He helped you stand above the drain, squeezing your hand before letting you stand on your own. He soaked a cloth before he started carefully scrubbing your arms, trying his best to not pressure the slash on your left arm into bleeding again.
“It was my stupidity. One of my scouts was kicked off his horse, and a titan was going to grab him, and I— It was impulsive. I threw myself at them and I didn’t realize another titan was coming. It was a big mess and I wasn’t thinking clearly.” You yawned between your sentences, watching him with tired eyes, following his hands whenever he bent to dampen the cloth and settling back on his face when he returned; his eyebrows furrowed at your anecdote. “I couldn’t tell you exactly what happened, I just know I flew through more trees than I would like, and when I finally got my cables to stick to something I was hanging two inches from the floor and looked like this.”
Levi stayed silent for a moment, trying to picture the situation, as if that helped him in any way. “How did you get on your horse?”
“Miche found me. I would have only been able to drag myself until I found someone. It’s hard to lift this leg.” His grip on your waist tightened at the notion, his eyes now meeting yours to avoid staring at where he scrubbed on your chest, ever-present frown adorning his features.
Levi saw the images of your explanation vividly in his mind; he could clearly see you dragging yourself out of the woods in fear that you wouldn’t make it, as if it actually happened, as if he had been present. It was completely nauseating. “I’m sorry.” His hands stopped, both settled firmly on your hips, indifferent to his proximity and your bare skin.
“For what?”
“I could’ve been there.”
One of your hands reached his bicep, tentatively caressing him. “Don’t do that.”
He pursed his lips together; he knew it was ridiculous to upset himself over something he had no control over, and yet he couldn’t stop. He stayed silent, instead opting to watch you get closer, your hands rubbing up and down his arms to ease him. The delicate body he’s grown to yearn for standing less than an inch away from him, laid bare for his eyes only.
“I’m supposed to be taking care of you.” He murmured, tense muscles taut under your touch as it rose up to his shoulders then back down to the front of his chest.
“I know, but you seem to be more troubled than I am. I may need help getting up, but you’re looking at me like I’m dying.”
“I just don’t know what to do with myself.” Levi let himself get closer, his hands hesitantly moving to your back. “Seeing you like this.”
“I’ve been hurt before.” Your tone was confused, and he hated that it urged him to continue.
“Not like this. Not when I’m not around.”
“I thought you didn’t care if I was not by your side.”
“I lied.”
You couldn’t help the weak laugh that left your lips, looking away from him as you tried to retrieve your composure.
“Are my worries amusing to you?” His gaze narrowed, not in his usual scowl—in dismay.
You shook your head, a hand coming up to caress his face, looking at him with nothing but utter reverence. “I’m more than appreciative of your worries. But I do find it humorous that I have to come back like this for you to say these things.”
The time seemed to stand still between you. Patient, as always, you waited; letting him find the words he’s been struggling to muster. He hated how difficult this was; to expose feelings he has been certain of for years. “Sit, we need to wash your hair.”
You sighed, hands dropping from him with a small nod. He helped you sit in the middle of the tub, kneeling down on the floor next to you, holding onto a small water pitcher with trembling hands.
You closed your eyes at the feeling of water slowly dripping onto your scalp, finally relishing in a soothing feeling. “Don’t look at me when I say this." His voice was low, unusually unsteady, despite being completely certain of his words. "I’m terrified of losing you.”
Your lips pursed together, trying your best to keep yourself from turning your head; wanting to indulge him if it meant being able to hear what he had to confess. “Why?” You asked quietly, eyes stuck to the water falling from your shoulders, bloody and muddy dark streaks slowly disappearing, becoming clearer the more his fingers helped brush water through the thick locks of hair.
Silence lingered for a moment. The only sound being the slow rush of water, and Levi’s deep breaths. He could do this, if there’s someone he could say anything to, it was you. So why did his chest ache this much?
“I’ve belonged to you from the moment I met you.” Levi’s voice came out ragged, broken. His hands softly brushed through your hair, moving back the strands that fell on your face. He cleared his throat, trying to regain some semblance of control. “And I don’t know what will be of me if the only reason I hold any hope for the future is no longer with me.”
You couldn’t help meeting his gaze, lips parting and closing with suppressed praises. To hear something that gentle, romantic, out of the very lips you’ve wished had graced yours long before today; it could’ve been enough to push you through every day of your life from now on.
The way you were looking at him was his undoing, a softness he did not deserve, and that he could only ever receive from you. He watched you uneasy, his throat running dry, unsure of what he was even waiting for. “Please say something.”
Words evaded you completely, too stuck on repeating that sweet confession over and over again in your head. Instead of coming up with some clever poetry of your equal feelings, you did the one thing you knew no amount of prodding would make him do.
Your hands slowly reached for him, cupping his face to bring him closer to you. And you waited, for a moment; not wanting to miss how he relaxed, how he gave in. Only then did your lips meet his with a tenderness that made Levi’s stomach flutter.
One of his hands went to the back of your neck, long fingers twisting into your hair, keeping your lips flush against his while he inched closer to you. His free hand gripped the back edge of the tub, his body looming above yours, completely trapping you under him.
The kiss was searing and all consuming. As if you were trying to pour into him every unsaid word; as if Levi was trying to make up for every single moment he wished your lips had been on his. It grew desperate within seconds, teeth clashing and noses bumping while both of you tried to absorb each other’s oxygen.
It’s only when you tried to wrap your arms around his neck to drag him down did you break away, wincing at the sting from a gash on your bicep.
Levi immediately tensed when you stopped. “I’m sorry.” His voice was breathless, a small whisper followed by him pulling back, softened gaze raking over you to make sure he didn’t hurt you.
“It’s my fault, I should’ve waited until we were laying down.” You quipped, instinctively reaching out for his arm to keep him somewhat close.
He laughed, openly, warm. “That might’ve ended worse.”
A comfortable silence fell in the room after your chuckles died down. Both of you staring at each other with the sweetness of two madly in love idiots. All flushed lips, red cheeks, and stupid smiles.
—
“And then what happened?” Erwin asked while flipping through pages of planning, the words he had written already mixing together from how long he had been staring at them, and how late it already was.
Miche stood by the window, looking out to the empty grounds below them. “I told him she’d be lying down in the carriage, probably more comfortable.”
“Mhm.”
“And he argued she’d be alone, very solemnly.”
“He did not.” Erwin dropped the papers, turning on his chair to meet Miche’s gaze, the other man already snickering to himself.
“He did, and then he just took her away. And I’m completely certain he kissed her hair when they got on the horse.” Miche whispered the last part, as if he was sharing the most confidential work information he could ever manage to get his hands on.
“In front of everyone?” Erwin stared at him dumbfounded, imagining the scene he described before letting out a quiet laugh.
“If they remain nothing but friends after tonight I fear we might have to send Hange in.”
There's something cute about Levi taking care of your baby while he is working. The meeting was mostly boring except for the little bundle in his lap, currently she was calm. Her eyes looked around, probably trying to find something to gawn on. It was that period, she was teething and all those sleepless nights tired both you and Levi out. He never let you take care of her on your own, never. Levi notices the baby getting restless in his lap, he gently runs his fingers through the tuffs of her soft black hair, same as his. The baby gurgles, enjoying the attention but its quickly distracted as her chubby fingers grab hold of Levi's paperwork. "No you don't, brat." He quickly replaced the papers with his tea spoon, sure he could've given her a toy but she found anything interesting especially when it was shiny. She coos happily showing off the new item to her father as she looks at him. "Yes that's very nice, princess." Just a slight smile grazes his lips as he watches her play.
The reaction of the rest of the room almost escaps Levi, almost. He notices how Hange keeps making faces at the baby and Erwin keeps getting distracted by the cuteness. Nifa trying to bribe the baby with some bright pencils doesn't miss him either. They got used to it by now, Levi didn't want to have you working but he also didn't stop you when you told him you wanted to come back to work. Both of you didn't trust random strangers with your daughter, so brining her to work was what you settled on. And it weirdly worked, the baby's innocence helped with the usual grim mood of the soldiers and Levi's workdays now were fun even if he had to finish three stacks of paperwork. The meeting is almost up to a close when you appear, the baby squeals loudly as she sees you making grabby hands. "Hi mama's bunny." You take her kissing her chubby cheek. "Did she behave?" You ask your husband who scoffs. "As well as a baby can. The shitty gums are bothering her." He hated seeing his kid in pain and if he could someone transfer it on himself, he would. Levi never wanted children but seeing you with your daughter and seeing his little girl smile, he wouldn't change it for anything in the world.
✩ nerd!armin, college AU, armin is a creative writing major, infatuation at first sight, SO MUCH yearning, like so much, obsession, porn with plot, drunk fingering, disgustingly sweet mushy intimacy, no penetration (yet ;P), dirty talk, nipple play, so much praise.
⋆⭒˚｡⋆ author’s note: this is my first time publishing any kind of fanfic since my one direction days back in 8th grade LMFAO. Please spare me if I'm rusty, and if you have a req hit that button on my page!!! Enjoy :3
MINORS DNI PLS AND THANKS
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Sweaty bodies clashed and ground into one another, the air palpable and damp. The scent of cheap liquor and salty sweat covered foreheads filled your nose. You had no idea how you wound up in the middle of a packed dance floor, your friends had practically drug you out of your bed to get you here. When they got the invite for an infamous ‘Yeager party’, they made it pretty much impossible for you to say no. Telling you how it was gonna be the “craziest night of your life”
“You’re fucking insane if you don’t go”.
“Y/n you really need to loosen up more”.
blah blah blah.
As much as you loved your friends, the idea of drinking in a frat house with bodies cluttered mindlessly over each other made your stomach dip in the worst way imaginable. You’d much rather stay home and delve head first into the fictional worlds you indulged in through your favorite books, your almost comically large t-shirt on and a glass of wine filled far too close to the brim on your nightstand. You never judged them for their interests in partying and finding a decently not ugly guy to hook up with for the night. You had no room to judge. You stayed home and read books about gay fairies fucking each other, you and your friends were just two opposite sides of the same wanting coin.
You wished you had their confidence, their ability to talk freely to even the furthest of strangers. Maybe it was liquor induced, or maybe it was a concept just beyond your grasp of understanding. Regardless, you found yourself shuffling around Eren Yeager’s crowded living room anyways, the music so loud you could feel the bass in your toes through the rubber soles of your shoes. You’d lost sight of your friends, the unfamiliarity of the faces around you making your heart rate quicken and your vision feel slightly disoriented.
You caught a glimpse of the kitchen just beyond the sea of bodies, looking significantly less inhabited than the living room. You made a break for it, quickly ducking under raised arms and squeezing in between dancing pairs. The flickering light of the poorly hung neon sign that was for some reason in the kitchen, felt like a light at the end of a tunnel of agony. You finally broke through the crowd, the air that wafted around you significantly cooler than the air just feet prior. You made it to the entryway of the kitchen, and in your rushed desperation, you didn’t notice the person you were about to hurl yourself into until it was too late.
Your nose slammed into their rigid chest, their arms reaching out instinctively to steady you. You looked up to see the person you’ve fully embarrassed yourself in front of, your stomach twisted even harder when your gaze landed on him. Armin Arlert. The lanky, quiet best friend of Eren Yeager.
Now, just because you didn’t go to these parties, doesn’t mean you didn’t know who he was. Of course you did, his essays had been published over and over in the student papers, his academic status seemingly the complete opposite of his best friend. You actually found yourself a fan of his writing style, which made this interaction all the more gut wrenching.
“Shit, you okay?” He asked, his hands still wrapped around your biceps, his fingers so long the tips of them met with room to spare. You nodded and grasped at your nose, having felt something wet hit the palm of your hand. You already knew it was blood from the way you could feel your pulse throbbing between your nostrils.
“No yeah, I'm good. Sorry…” you rushed out. Your unsteady legs carried you over to the kitchen counter to grab a fistful of paper towels to press to your nose. He turned around to watch you, his eyes widening in a panic as he saw the red drip down your wrist. He rushed over and grabbed a few paper towels himself, dabbing the blood trailing down onto your forearm. His movements were so gentle you could barely feel them, his voice earnest and clearly concerned. “Holy shit, no you’re not….fuck—did I break your nose?”
You shook your head quickly, still applying pressure with the paper towels. Your voice coming out muffled and nasally and deeply embarrassed. “No, no. I don't think so…seriously, it's fine.”
He continued to dab and wipe at the remnants of blood on your arm, letting out a troubled huff at your words and gently shaking his head in protest. He glanced down the hallway attached to the kitchen for a moment, and then returned his gaze to you, his pupils so dilated you could barely see the pale blue that sat there. He placed one of his hands on the small of your back, sweeping you gently towards the hallway. You could feel his fingers trembling.
“Here, at least let me help you fix this. I think we might have something in the bathroom that will help….maybe…” he said anxiously, using his body as some kind of shield as you weaved your way through the people that walked freely through the house as if it were their own.
The two of you made your way to the bathroom. You sat on the closed seat of the toilet, still clutching the now red stained paper towels to your nose firmly as he closed the bathroom door behind him. Your shoulders dropped a little at the way the loud music became significantly muffled, the loudest sound in the room became Armin frantically rummaging through the medicine cabinet above the sink. “Tilt your head up…” he said softly as he grabbed an instant ice pack from the cabinet, his eyes flooded with unease as he hesitantly pattered over to you.
You tilted your head up, grimacing at the feeling of clotted blood sliding down the back of your throat. Armin took the cold pack in his hands, cracking it swiftly for the chemical reaction to take effect. Despite your mind having been quite preoccupied with the burning ache of your nose, you still couldn’t help but notice the way the tendons in his hand flexed when he cracked the ice pack. You cursed yourself for being even the slightest bit perverted while he’s damn near having an anxiety attack.
The ice pack soon began to freeze, and Armin placed it gently on the bridge of your nose, the soothing sensation dulling the burning pulse. “Keep that there with your head tilted up, try and pinch it in place.” He said quickly before he turned around to grab you a wad of clean toilet paper to replace your dampening handful of paper towel.
You couldn’t even speak, too horrified by your own fuck up. You just nodded silently, pinching the ice pack against the bridge of your nose. Armin handed you the toilet paper and you brought it to your bleeding nostrils, tossing the old paper towel into the trash can next to the toilet.
Armin sat down on the edge of the bathtub next to the toilet, his long legs made his knees come up to his chest from sitting so low to the ground. He ran a hand through his well kept hair, dropping his forehead to his palm. “Leave it to me to break someone’s nose without even trying…” he said softly, a self-deprecating tone laced in his words.
You continued to hold the ice pack to your bridge, your head tilted upwards so you’re not able to make eye contact with him as you spoke. Not that you’d’ve been able to anyways. “I seriously don’t think it's broken, the ice pack is helping.” You breathed out. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye and watched the way his shoulders visibly relaxed at your reassurance. “Good, good. I’m really sorry.” He muttered quietly, his voice forced itself into a kind tone despite the inefficiency he felt humming in his chest.
You shook your head as much as you could with the ice pack still pressed to your bridge. “It’s not your fault, i was the one who ran into you at full speed like a fucking lunatic.”
Armin let out a breath of a laugh, shaking his head back softly in protest. “I mean you were clearly on a mission, it's my fault for standing there.” He said with the slightest curl of a smile forming. You let out a nasally giggle back, cringing at the way you feel a small gush of blood come out of your left nostril. You tried to think of something lighthearted to say to ease the stress that pooled in the air, but Armin spoke up again. “I’m uh… I’m Armin. I don't think I’ve ever seen you here before…”
You nodded your head softly, leaning your head forward a little bit now to get the last drops of blood out of your nose, the bleeding subsiding. “Yeah, I know.” You spit out, rebuking yourself for sounding so eager.
You prayed that he took it as you acknowledging the way he’s never seen you instead of you admitting you knew his name already. “I um, yeah I’ve never been here before. My friends were invited and kinda insisted I tag along…” you said in an attempt to recover, trying to make your tone more nonchalant.
Armin's eyes widened as you spoke. “Oh, were you looking for them? Should we go try and find them for you?” He asked, genuine concern in his tone. You quickly shook your head, waving your hand lazily in protest. You desperately tried to ignore the way your stomach warmed simply from him saying ‘we’. God, you seriously cannot be this down and out.
“No, no. I mean, I don't know where they are…but I wasn’t looking for them, I'm sure they’re making themselves at home.” You began, a huff escaping you at the end. “I was actually trying to get into the kitchen to get some air. Crowded parties aren't necessarily my thing, if you couldn’t tell…” You said jokingly, motioning your hands over yourself in the state you were in. Armin let out a friendly chuckle, nodding his head in agreement. “I feel that, I don’t think I’d go to these things if they weren't in my literal house—how’s your nose?” He cut himself off to ask.
You took the ice pack off of your nose and set it on the edge of the sink. The wad of toilet paper he’d handed you was barely stained in comparison to the paper towels you’d had previously. The ache in between your eyes had seemed to subside for the most part, your head finding its way back to its resting state.
You blinked a few times, wiggling your face a little to see if there’s any pain. That elicited a snort from Armin, a nauseously sweet smile creeping onto his face. “It’s fine….I think. Definitely the most interesting thing that’ll happen to me tonight, that's for sure. Maybe even the most interesting thing to happen during this party as a whole. ”
Armin let out a humorous groan as he stretched his arms above his head. The way he was sitting on the edge of the bathtub was undoubtedly straining his back. “They’re so boring, aren’t they? I mean, it's just the same shit over and over. The same songs every time, same drinks, same people hooking up in the same corners.” He said with undisputed authenticity, an intrigued smile flashing on your face for a moment.
You let out a hum of understanding, leaning back slightly against the back of the toilet. You were unable to help the way your thoughts started to spill out of you. “I know right? I read this one book a few years back, and it made the mundane cycles of human life almost painfully obvious..the way we all tend to relive the same moments over and over again…”
Armin sat and watched you speak, his eyes flashed with excitement when he realized that you must be well read. He noticed the way your throat bobbed when you’d pause mid sentence, the way you spoke with real intention and poise. He soaked in every word, digesting them like the most comforting of meals, tasting your sincerity on his own tongue.
After a while, you realized that you’d been basically vomiting your opinions of the human experience all over someone who just wanted to help you with a bloody nose. An insecure twinge budded in between your ribs, making you look around the bathroom for anything to exchange small talk about instead. Armin wasn’t interested in that in the slightest, your eloquently spoken words oozed with merit, the depth of the conversation felt almost sacred to him.
Like you, he didn’t experience conversations like this often. I mean, he lived in a frat house for fucks sake. The deepest conversation he’d get here is an argument over what liquor is the easiest to drink copious amounts of without ending your night in a hospital, or community bitching about a certain professor's excruciating deadlines.
Your gaze was snapped back to him when he began to speak, reflecting the same passion you had in your tone back to you. The most full-hearted of smiles present when he did. “No you’re so right, it does change something in you once you see it. I’m just…I hope I don't come across offensive when I say this, but I wasn’t expecting that. I can’t say that I’ve ever had a conversation at any of these parties that was anything below surface level, it's…..nice. Nice to feel like someone else is speaking a language that I actually understand.”
Your gaze shifted to the way he used his hands to speak alongside his voice, the clear zeal he felt while talking about his interests made your eyes brighten at him. The somewhat stiff and jittery conversation quickly transformed into something thoroughly fruitful, despite it taking place under the eerily flickering light of the shivery bathroom. Your voices colliding made the space warm and inviting nonetheless.
You talked about psychology, poetry, fiction, beaming at each other over your shared interests. The conversation flowed so organically that you completely forgot why you even came to the bathroom to begin with, the barely there throb of your nose not even beginning to cross your mind. It’d been very congenial thus far, Armin was far too scared to ruin the depth he felt by attempting to flirt with you poorly. Although, he did want to. Very badly, actually.
Your ability to remain completely open-minded, the syrupy warmth you have when you laugh. The way you began to reflect his own thoughts back to him before he even got to speak them himself. All of these being things he found painfully attractive. He found himself having to rip his gaze from your bottom lip while you were pondering a question he’d ask, not wanting to seem too forward by keeping it there. He didn't want to be delusional, he didn't want to assume anything. But what he absolutely did want was to continue to talk to you in that bathroom for as long as you’d allow him to, that he knew very clearly.
And it's not like the attraction was one-sided. No, not at all. You found yourself drawn deep into the way he spoke, the attention to detail he had when describing something. His words breathed life into every topic. He was clearly deeply intelligent, but mind blowingly humble at the same time. Not a single word rolling off of his tongue with pompous intention. You felt your stomach pool with a sort of dramatic nervousness when he would lean his chin on his hand while you spoke, his thumb toying under his bottom lip while he drank your words in completely.
You couldn’t help but wonder if the way you felt glued to your seat was reciprocated, if his fingers twitched at the thought of running them against the skin of your knuckles like yours did for him.
You felt crazy for wondering those things since you’d only just met him tonight. You told yourself that you clearly have been reading far too many romance novels, that those fictional scenes were fictional for a reason. Despite the doubt, you didn't try to ignore the magnetism you felt. You let your bones hum from him moving any part of himself even slightly closer to you. You knew the feeling would be fleeting anyways, you weren’t gonna ruin the blip of time where it’s present just to forsake yourself.
The two of you tumbled between topics for what felt like brief hours, the essay he had recently published in the newspaper being one of them. You had to pretend that you hadn’t already read it, your eyebrows raising a little as a facade when he’d explained it to you. “That must’ve taken you a long time, no? I know if it were me I'd have a million rough drafts before I trusted my abilities enough to actually publish anything.”
Armin let out a heavy chuckle, shaking his head as if in disbelief. “You wanna see something crazy?”
His question was met with your quickly nodding head and he swiftly stood up from the edge of the bathtub, stretching his legs out a little. He waved his hand towards himself, motioning for you to follow him. Excitement pooled in your gut as you stood up from your spot in the bathroom that the two of you had made into some kind of absurd sanctuary over the past two hours. You followed him as he walked deeper down the length of the hallway, grabbing the knob of the very last door on the right and turning it.
You walked into the room that you quickly realized was his bedroom, a schoolgirl-esque giddiness arose in you at the mere thought of being there. You quickly scanned the room, noticing the way his bed was neatly made. A plethora of soft blankets laid out across the comforter in a way that made the bed look just as inviting as he seemed to be. Your eyes flickered to the bookshelf that leaned up against the wall next to the desk in the corner, the shelves of it blooming with literature. The only light in the room comes from a large overhead lamp. It stood over his desk that was littered with piles and piles of copy paper printed top to bottom with various sized paragraphs. Each stack stood at least an inch thick, some even double that. Armin let out a breathy chuff as he pointed at the papers all over the desk. “Those are all of my rough drafts. Every last paper on that desk is me trying to prepare for that essay.”
You walked over to the desk and ran your thumb up the side of one of the stacks, the sound of the papers fluttering against each lasting for at least 10 full seconds. Your chest warmed at the visual representation of his dedication, though his passion was clear even before. Armin walked over to the end of his bed and plopped down, a sigh escaping him as he landed. He watched you examine his room, noticing how your eyes almost glowed when you ran your forefinger over the spines of his books that sat neatly on his shelf.
You had recognized a good chunk of the titles, although he was unfortunately missing the borderline pornographic fantasy books that ran rampant on your shelf at home. You wondered to yourself if he had any romance novels hidden under his bed like the average man's playboy magazine, the idea made you giggle under your breath.
“What’s the laugh about? Is my collection not impressive enough for you?” He teased, his fingers tapping nervously at his knees as he watched you walk around his room like you should’ve always been there. You shook your head as you turned around to face him, not making direct eye contact but still noticing the way his eyes trailed even your smallest of movements. “It’s very impressive, actually…” you said honestly, a candied smile on your lips.
You walked over to the edge of the bed and sat down next to him, leaving an arms length of space between the two of you so you didn’t come off presuming. You let out a deep sigh, closing your eyes and letting the cozy silence of his room soothe you into the ease you’d been craving since the moment you stepped foot in the house. “Why would someone ever pick that over this…” you said softly as you nodded your head once towards the door, referencing the party that began to thump down the hallway. Armin cocked a brow, smiling boyishly at you. “What’s this?”
You let out a breathy chuckle, keeping your eyes closed as you spoke. “Silence….ease. Meaningful conversation that doesn’t have any destination.” You began, subconsciously leaning back and laying your spine flat against the plush of his blanket covered mattress. Your eyes remained closed as you continued to talk, the loss of the sense making it easier to speak in the way you’d wanted to. “I mean, don't get me wrong… I enjoy getting drunk as much as the next college student. I’d never frown upon anyone who really loves the energy out there, I'm sure it brings the right people a sense of community almost…”. A deep breath.
“All anyone wants at the end of the day is to be seen without reprimand, to be accepted down to their bones. If dancing your heart out next to someone you’ll maybe never see again makes them feel that, having that glimpse of each other's most raw forms… then all the power to you.”
Armin gazed at you in an almost awe-like state as you spoke, eyeing the way your hair pooled effortlessly around you as you laid back onto his bed. He found himself physically having to sit on his hand to keep himself from reaching out and running his fingers through it. Your honeyed voice thrummed through the realest parts of him. He was completely unable to tear his eyes away from the soft swells of your cheeks or the long lines of your neck, his eyes glimmered as they drank in your presence. He cursed himself for having such a beautiful breath of a woman in his bed but still being too self-loathing to do anything about it. He hummed in understanding as he laid back against the bed next to you, still an arms length apart.
“I think that’s a pretty beautiful observation to make…you’re— um, you’re very well spoken. I'll have to consult with you for my next essay instead of creating another shit show like whatever that is” he choked out as he aimlessly pointed towards his desk.
He’d hoped cracking a joke would lead you away from the way he’d almost said something that could possibly make you uncomfortable. You were none the wiser, your eyes finally fluttered open as you turned your head to look at him. “You got it.”
He had to wipe his hands on his sweatpants to get rid of the film of sweat that grew there the moment you peeked out at him under the curls of your lashes.
ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻
Two weeks have passed since that night, and you hate how it seemed to always present itself in the forefront of your mind. Armin’s soft gaze and the way his words reflected your inner monologue when he spoke hung heavy in you, just around every corner. You felt completely delusional, the way the night had ended made you sure of your former idea of it just being a fleeting moment. He didn't kiss you, or ask for your number, nothing of the sort was even mentioned.
You two had spent the entire night talking, laughing, spilling your guts out to each other and not thinking twice about how strange it was to do that with someone you had just met. It was unlike anything you’d ever experienced. You remember having to leave abruptly when you noticed the sun rising beyond his curtained windows, neither of you noticing how the bass had stopped humming between the floorboards of the house a few hours prior, or how heavy your lids hung over your eyes as the time went on.
You had spent the past two weeks dissecting every part of the conversation that you could remember, scrounging for some reason that would lead you to believe he felt the same pull you did. He had taken over, staking his claim during the night and causing you to clench your thighs together when you’d remember the way the soft features of his face looked as he laughed. You felt perverted and overly crass, sure that you’d never be able to show your face to him ever again after the countless fantasies you’d had.
You had imagined what his lips would look like covered in you, what his fingers would surely be able to accomplish due to the length of them. You wondered if he was a passionate lover, slow and deliberate. Or was he the opposite, grabby and rushed to touch you in as many places as he could like a man starved. It didn’t matter what type he really was, you’d imagined him in every possible way already. No version of him could be a shock to you.
And despite the embarrassment that swallowed you whole when you actually imagined seeing him face to face again, you found yourself walking into the house he shared with his fraternity brothers anyways.
Your friends had received another invite to Eren’s next party, the invite being extended to you this time even though you and Eren had never met. You had told yourself that if you did see him, you’d just put an end to the warm torture he’d instilled upon you. You’d be unable to embarrass yourself any further at that point. If you didn’t see him, your plan b was to get as drunk as you could off of drinks that you didn't pay for to try and dull the thoughts of him, even a little would be enough.
You and your friends entered the party and began to mingle, the heavy blow of thickened air choking you already. You scanned the room over and over again for a glimpse of him, a deep twinge in your gut every time you came up short.
You quickly made your way to the kitchen, pouring an obscene amount of vodka into a cheap plastic cup and mindlessly splashing some orange juice in it like it'd even out somehow. It felt like your actions were coming before your thoughts, uncontrollable and erratic in a way that made you unrecognizable to yourself.
You were always in control, always centered. That night with Armin threw you completely off kilter. You knew you were acting out of pocket. You really didn’t care. You just needed some relief.
ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆
Armin’s POV:
Armin let out a choked groan, cum ribboning into the air as his hips jutted forward desperately into his own wanting hand. He rested his forehead against the cold tile wall of the shower, his breathing rapid and his legs trembling in aftershock. All it took was a very small handful of thoughts about you in this exact bathroom two weeks ago to unravel him completely.
He physically could not get you out of his mind since he’d met you. The way you said his name, the shine of your hair as it splayed over his bed when you laid on it. The way you’d looked at him that night as if you saw the rawest parts of him. He couldn’t help himself, despite how disrespectful and deeply disappointed in himself he felt about jerking off to the thought of a woman he’d met only once.
And this wasn’t the first instance, no no. He found himself crumpling paper after paper into his trashcan when he would sit down at his desk, the only thing written on any of them being some type of saccharine fifth grade love letter to you. He’d wind up with nothing to show for the hours he’d spent sitting there other than a painful boner suffocating itself in his pants.
His first waking thought was you, the way you walked around his room like some kind of enchantress, your movements slow and enticing. He’d rub the sleep out of his eyes with his dick pressed firm against his stomach, his slender hand reaching down to relieve himself with the image of your head bobbing on him whirling recklessly in his mind.
He really felt like he was going insane, to be honest. Sure, he was a normal human with urges like anyone else. But this was different. He had never, never behaved like this before. You had completely captivated him.
And it wasn't just some creepy sexual obsession, his thoughts seemed to find a way to reel back to you in everything he did. Every mindless conversation he had with a peer or coworker, he’d imagine how much better it would be if you were a part of it. He doesn’t ever remember being able to hold a conversation with anyone for even an hour without finding himself wanting to retreat to solitary, but he felt like the many hours that the two of you shared talking wasn't nearly enough. He would’ve stayed there on that bed until the room surrounding the two of you dissolved back into the earth, and even then he would probably still have another question to ask.
You ripped past barriers in him in one night that took his closest friends years. And yet, he still didn't even muster up the courage to ask you for your number. He had explained his darkest days to you, and what scents made him the most nostalgic, but asking for your number would surely be too much.
When Eren mentioned throwing another party this weekend, Armin had asked to put you and your friends on the invite list again. Doing so obviously elicited a wild smirk and rushing fist bumps from him, which Armin hated. He’d play into the douchey frat antics as much as he needed to if it meant you’d show up again.
He finished getting ready, listening to the party begin to swell through the house as he combed his fingers through his hair over and over again, as if you’d notice a stray hair out of place and run away. He knew getting an invite to you had the chance of being a lost cause due to your disinterest in parties, but he’d hoped that your friends would drag you here again, that they would bring you back to him.
He walked out of his room and down the long hallway, the beat of the nauseatingly familiar song (that would surely play at least six more times tonight) getting louder with each step. He made his way out to the kitchen, eyes gazing over the ever growing crowd of people to find you. He bit anxiously at his cheek when he toyed with the idea of you not showing up. He almost turned on his heels to go back to his room when he saw a blink of you, gone just as fast as you appeared.
He tried to trail your movements, walking deeper into the kitchen and leaning against the counter to get a better look. He started to actually believe he’d gone insane, there’s no way he’s beginning to hallucinate your presence now. He scoffed at himself under his breath, in disbelief that he was so desperate to see you that he resorted to playing pretend.
But then, his eyes snapped to your familiar form. Your smile hesitant but there nonetheless. He squinted his eyes slightly to get a better look at you, his jaw instinctively tightening when he saw the man standing behind you. Jean Kirstein. One of his fellow frat brothers, with his arm drunkenly slung over your shoulder, his mouth inches away from your ear. Armin despised the way his teeth grinded and the way his eyebrows lowered at the sight, jealousy not being a feeling he’s necessarily used to. Regardless of whether it's a familiar feeling or not, he found it crawling its way into every rift of him as he watched you from across the house.
He watched the way your smile waivered, your movements looking a little too loose to be those of a sober person. When his gaze landed on Jean’s hand placed strategically on your hip, he felt his nostrils flare and his heartbeat thrash wildly in his chest. He thought about approaching you, saying something or maybe just grabbing you and whisking you away from Jean. But he couldn’t. His feet were unmoving and cowardly, self-contempt bubbling deep in his stomach.
Armin turned to grab a bottle of whiskey from the counter, pouring himself a shot and throwing it back hastily, grimacing at the burn that slid down his throat and landed hard in his chest. He’s decided that he’s just going to take the whole bottle back to his room, drink himself into a slumber so deep he’ll hopefully wake up tomorrow with no recollection of tonight as a whole.
He grabbed the neck of the bottle and turned back to walk down to his room, his grip on it loosened as he glanced back at the sea of bodies and realized you aren’t where you were just moments ago… neither is Jean.
He let out a disappointed huff, his footsteps heavy against the hard wood of the hallway. You deserved someone who wasn't so cowardly, he can’t even fault you for choosing Jean. He oozed a certain kind of confidence that Armin couldn’t even fathom, his tone always charming and smooth. Armin opened the door to his bedroom, and his self-deprecating tantrum was cut short when he saw you sitting on the ground next to the foot of his bed, your head buried into your knees.
“Y/n?”
ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻
Your pulse rose into your throat when you felt Jean’s sweaty hand find its way to your hip. He rested it there as if he was claiming his territory like some kind of pissing dog. You had clearly drank too much, you would’ve never gotten yourself into this miserable position if you hadn’t.
To your credit though, the drinking had made Armin’s silhouette stop flashing behind your eyes every time you’d blink. You were thankful for that, you were beginning to seriously concern yourself with the grasp he had on you.
You tried your hardest to sway your hips to the music, but your movements just came out forced and rigid no matter how fluid the liquor made you feel. You felt lost, stranded, and also on the verge of projectile vomiting. Whether it was from the alcohol or the way Jeans thumb started to rub small circles on your hip, it didn't matter. You needed to find a way out.
Jean's head leaned into the crook of your neck, his breath torrid and sticky against your ear as he spoke. The scent of his damp, sweat slicked hair wafted into your nostrils. You were absolutely sure you were going to puke now.
He said something about letting him take you home, you couldn’t really make out exactly what he was saying. Your hearing was deafened from the music blasting through the speaker on your other side. You also didn’t care enough to know exactly what was said, too focused on how your vision warped in a way that felt like your head was stuck on sideways.
You forced out a compliant smile, your eyes void of anything at all. You leaned in to tell him that you had to go to the bathroom, the smell of his plasticy cologne glueing your nose shut. He said something about coming with you, but you were gone from his line of vision before the sentence could be finished.
The tile of the kitchen swirled and pulsed as you practically sprinted over it. You drunkenly bounced your shoulder off of someone’s back as you started for the hallway, too confused to even be able to apologize. You grabbed at the door handle, missing it completely on your first try. The door shut behind you and you sank to the floor as soon as the noise became distant and stifled, closing your eyes and tucking your forehead to your knees.
You didn’t know how long you stayed like that, the concept of time becoming far too complex to even begin to think about. But what wasn't complex was sloshing around in your inebriated mind, fast and loose. You had been acting so fucking stupid. One night with someone you’d enjoyed your time with and all the sudden you're acting like a ludicrous middle schooler.
Except, it wasn't just that. It never was. It was something you couldn’t explain, couldn't understand no matter how many times you replayed it in your head. The way you’d felt that night with Armin was absorbing in every way. You felt so fucking stupid.
A soft voice ripped you away from your conviction, your head heavy as you hesitantly lifted it from your knees.
“Y/n?”
You were sure you’d croak any second now, the feeling in your body indescribable. The lights were off and the cold flatness of the ground beneath you had felt like it made sense enough to be the bathroom that you’d wanted to find. The light that spilled in through the newly opened door made you realize you were absolutely not in the room that you thought. You flickered your gaze between the edge of the bed next to you and the desk that was still littered with papers, a lot of them crumpled now.
You finished with your eyes landing on the silhouette of Armin standing in the doorway, the light of the hallway behind him made the edges of him glow like some kind of heavenly liberator.
Your mouth went dry as he gently shut the door behind him. He hurriedly switched on the lamp above the desk and crouched down next to you, his expression clear with concern. “Are you okay? How’d you get in here?”
The ability to speak was amnestic, your voice coming out babbled and lost. “I don’t know…I thought I was in the bathroom. I— god, I’m sorry.”
You found your way to your feet, your legs wobbly and your head sharply throbbing from the change in pressure. You were sure that the embarrassment you’d subjected yourself to tonight would replace any fleeting fantasies that arose in the future. And you were certain he’d hope to never see you again after this.
As you began to stumble your way out of his room, Armin's lanky arm shot out in front of you. He held you steady with his hands in a very similar way to your first interaction. You felt the edge of the bed press against the back of your calves and you uncontrollably dropped down onto the plush mattress once again. The contrast between this moment and the last time you’d sat on his bed like this made you want to claw at your chest.
“Just… let me at least get you some water or something. Jesus, how much did you drink?” He said, his tone still able to remain kind in its bones somehow. The way he felt the need to help you regardless of the way you invaded his personal space made you want to bang your forehead into your fists. Your drunken stupor didn’t erase his humility. Of course it didn’t.
Armin reached into the small fridge that sat behind his desk, a handful of water bottles in it as well as the premade iced coffees he’d drink to get him through the copious late nights he’d spend dumping his mind onto paper. He grabbed one of the waters and walked over to hand it to you.
You reached out weakly to grab it. The cap twisted off and your sip slowly turned into a chug as you felt the coolness of it wash down your throat, soothing the burn you felt in every corner of yourself. Your voice came out a timid jumble, your words slurring together slightly. “I don't know… a lot. Way too much, obviously.” You paused to take another drink. “I was trying to uh… get away from that guy—“
”Jean.”
“Sure, I don't remember.” You answered defeatedly, not even questioning why Armin knew who you were referring to. He sat next to you on the bed in the same way he did two weeks ago, the same arms length between the two of you. “He said something about coming home with him or whatever so I just dipped. I seriously thought I was in the bathroom…” you admitted, still trying to rack your brain and figure out how you made such a severe misjudgment.
”I’m glad you're not…”
His words come out so quiet that you're not sure what he just said. “Huh?”
Armin cleared his throat, fixing his posture so he sat up a little taller next to your crumpled form. “I— uh… said that sounds about right.” he stuttered out before he continued. “Jean is kinda…forward, I guess. I’m sorry if he made you uncomfortable.”
He felt the need to apologize for his fraternity brother’s behavior, despite the way he would prefer to never bring him up again in front of you. You wave your hand lazily towards him, brushing off the apology.
“It’s not your fault, you apologize too much.” You spit out, your inhibition making you speak before your conscience even has a chance to stop you. Armin lets out a struggled chuff, his shoulders dropping a little in defeat. You’re right, he did apologize too much. Of course you saw that.
“He wasn’t being overly creepy or anything anyways… I just wasn't interested.” You continued, Armin's eyes sparking with something you couldn’t quite place.
”Why not?” He asked. His question came out casual enough, a facade of mindless curiosity. You shrugged your shoulders, a nervous giggle as you speak. “Just not my type I guess.”
Armin felt like he was going to explode. His heart lurched when he saw you sat on his floor, disoriented and filled with guilt. All he wanted was to see you again tonight, to feel your presence. Now that he had it, he felt like he was gonna be sick. His stomach dipped with every different expression you flashed at him. His legs physically ached from how badly he wanted to brush his knee up against yours. Why would you dance with Jean if he wasn't your type? He continues to beat the horse that’s been dead for at least a week now, wondering if you felt the same urge he did.
He can’t keep you here for hours again and not say anything about the thing he felt shattering every bone. You're drunk. His shame had layers now.
Armin chuckled under his breath. He’s the first one to lay back on the bed this time, feeling as though he might pass out if he stayed upright. He lets his toes bounce lightly against the floor, the back of his calves moving against the flat edge of the bed. “So what’s your type then?”
You felt every ounce of blood in your body seem to still from his question. As much as you tried not to, you couldn’t help but read into it front to back. You’d begun to fiddle with the loose threads of the blanket you sit on. Eye contact wasn’t even in the question. Shock began to sober you a little, your easy answers slipping away. ”What do you mean?”
Maybe the clueless drunk girl thing will work. You knew he was too insightful for it to work.
“Well… I don't know. Jean’s an attractive guy. He’s decently popular with women so he must be funny and nice enough to talk to.” Armin's hands rested intertwined on his chest, his thumbs circling each other.
”True… there’s just something missing.” You said as you thought through the maze that presented itself when you tried to think of the right thing to say without exposing yourself too much.
Armin shifted a little. His teeth picked and bit at his cheek and he tasted metal. He could feel his heart thumping in between his shoulder blades. “What’s missing?”
You let out a sigh as you laid back messily onto the bed, your body language beginning to show the bits of frustration that brewed in you. You assumed this is just one of his genuine curiosities, him wanting to know for his own archives of the human mind. You wanted him to let it go and pick something else so you could take a full breath.
”Does that really matter?”
”If it didn't you would’ve gone home with him.”
“I wouldn’t have.”
“Why not?”
“Because… he’s not who I want to go home with.” You felt like you were going to choke. Armin shifted again, turning onto his side. His eyes were on you and you knew it without looking to check. You were choking.
“So there was someone you wanted to go home with?” Armin didn’t even know what he was saying. He was trying to test the waters in his own beat around the bush way. He wanted you to say something that he could bend into perceived rejection, but each answer of yours seemed to confuse him further.
“I didn't say that.”
“So what were you trying to say then?”
You shifted yourself to face him, both of you laying on your sides on the bed. His elbow was propped up so he can hold himself up, you mirrored him. You felt like you were going insane.
His eyes flashed and whirled with something you couldn’t place, his tone was almost painful. You felt like he was holding something back, but the way his eyes and his words seemed to clash made you want to scream into the mattress and kick like a child.
You told yourself that if you did see him again tonight, you were one hundred percent going to say something. You were going to end the borderline obsession you’d formed one way or another. Yet here you were, face to face with the man you’d spent the last two weeks ogling over, and you’re dodging and ducking. ”What are you trying to say?”
Armin felt a ball of apprehension in the back of his throat, swallowing hard to try and get it down. He was at his breaking point, a place he can't say he’d ever been before in this context. Uncharted territory. As the two of you went back and forth, his eyes darted down the side of your body. Saliva began pooling on the back of his tongue when he got sight of the way your body curved, the way your hips rounded so perfectly. Fuck.
He let out a strangled sigh as he spoke, his eyes staring at the wall behind you to avoid your reaction. “Would you have let Jean kiss you if he tried?”
You paused for a moment so you didn’t scream. You let out a broken laugh instead. “No.”
Armin's next words came out so quiet like he’s trying to find his voice, but like he would die if he didn't say them. “Would you let me kiss you if I tried?”
A beat of silence fell between the foot of space between you and him, the foot of space that turned into six inches without either of you noticing. You felt like you needed to pinch yourself. Maybe this is just another one of his charged questions, or some kind of sick joke.
When your eyes snapped to his, you realized it was neither. He’s serious. His lids hung slightly lower, his brows slanted. You felt the tips of your toes start to tingle, your tongue subconsciously coming out to wet your bottom lip. Your voice came out more like a breath, just barely there. “Yes.”
That’s all it took for Armin to close the space between the two of you. You blink once and his forehead is pressed to yours, his hand cupping your face like you’re holy to him. His fingers splayed over your cheek, his thumb tracing your jaw over and over again. His words came out on a shaky breath, like he is using every ounce of his self control. “You have no idea how beautiful you look right now…”
“I’m half drunk…”
“You’re so fucking beautiful.”
The minuscule gap was closed as he pressed his lips to yours. His lips were indescribably plush and so, so warm. He kissed you almost hesitantly at first, not daring to move his lips or press them harder into yours. Once he felt you move your mouth against his that all went out the window, any shred of self control he had left vanished without a second thought.
He kissed you like he was starving, like your lips on his was the only thing keeping him alive. His fingertips curled around the beginning of your jaw just below your ear, tugging your mouth into his like he wanted to consume you. He swallowed a groan when he felt you sigh into his mouth, brushing his tongue against your bottom lip to see if you’ll take. You swiftly parted your lips to let him explore you deeper without hesitation.
And explore he did. His other hand came down to the belt loops of your jeans, sliding his fingers in them and tugging you flush to him with ease. His tongue brushed back and forth against yours, hands came to tangle in each other's hair. The way the two of you kissed was sanctified, like you had been wasting your time by spending it doing anything other than tasting each other.
You felt the clothed ridge of his dick press against your hip and you couldn’t help the way you squeezed your thighs together, your body already demanding some kind of friction.
He broke from the kiss, his lips swollen and flushed. His eyes pleaded as he spoke. “Tell me you’ll remember this tomorrow…that you’ve been thinking about this like I have, please.”
You let out a strangled chuckle, dropping your forehead to his shoulder. If only he knew. You began to leave a wet trail of kisses up his throat, sloppy and half-hazard in between your words. “…I’ve thinking about this since we met.”
A kiss.
“thinking about you…”
Another.
“I haven’t been able to get away from you, you're everywhere..”
Armin let out a sharp groan at your words, his hand grabbing for your face to pull you back up to his lips. He kissed you like he wanted to swallow you whole, like he'd been fantasizing about this just as relentlessly as you have the past two weeks.
“Fuck…you’ve made me lose my mind since that night. All I can think about is you.” He breathed out against your mouth, the confirmation made you exhale shakily as you felt anything that's not you and him in his bed completely disappear. Your leg hooked around the side of him and you pressed your body weight against him so he’d roll onto his back.
You barely had to force. Armin’s mouth went slightly agape as he watched you sit on top of him, his eyes deepening in a way that could hypnotize you if you let them. The weight of you on his lap was enough to make him twitch, but the way the soft lines of your curves pooled and dipped sent his brain into overdrive.
He grasped and clutched at your hips as you brought your mouth back down to his, a sharp exhale leaving him when you instinctively rolled your hips forward. Just once. Not enough but far too much.
“Y/n… you don't have to do… we can take things slow if you want. I don't want you to feel— oh fuck.” He began, but was quickly cut off by how you drew your tongue up the side of his neck, teeth dragging against the skin right below his pulse point. His shaky hands slid up your hips and landed just below your ribs, his fingertips curling around the bottom hem of your shirt.
“Do you want to take things slower?” You breathed into his ear, his head shaking rapidly in response. He was unable to get the words ‘fuck no’ out fast enough. “Good. Me neither.” You giggled as you grabbed his wrists and slid the palms of his hands under your shirt. His hands splayed over the skin of your stomach, wanting to cover as much surface area as he could.
He continued to slide his hands up further, studying you with an undying precision. He had imagined you like this so many times, and even the best of it didn't come close to the way you felt in his hands.
He began trailing them over the lace that covered the swells of your breasts. He brushed his thumb against your nipple over the thin mesh of your bra, grinning when he heard you let out a stifled whine into his mouth. His other hand went back down to tug and grip at the bottom of your shirt, his voice desperate and gravelly. “Take this off. Please, baby.”
The pet name had you complying immediately, sliding the shirt off with ease and tossing it across the room. His eyes darkened as he drank you in, his hands trailing up and down your bare skin as if he'd never seen anything this perfect.
He started to sit up, holding you against him as he shifted the two of you to the head of the bed, leaning his back against the headboard. You settled on top of his lap again and he grabbed at your ass like a rabid animal. His lips started to attack your neck, his kisses there being irreverent and famished.
You ground your hips down onto him again when you felt him trail his mouth down to your collarbones, and then to the pudge of your breasts that dared to spill over the edge of your bra. He let out a hiss against your skin, biting and sucking so a mark would be left there. He needed you to have a reminder of this that you’d see even if he escaped your mind. He needed you to remember him.
You started to wiggle against his lap as he stuck his tongue out to soothe the bruised skin. His hands came to grasp your hips, holding you still with unexpected strength. “Fucking hell, you gotta stop moving like that…” he mumbled into your soft skin. He wanted to worship you. He wasn’t going to let that be ruined by his own weakness.
You let out a breathy sound, the feeling of his fingertips pressing into your skin to keep your hips immobile made you yearn for something more. Armin kept his mouth on you the entire time his hand started to caress your stomach, landing low at the edge of your jeans. He fiddled with the buttons and looked up at you through ignited eyes, eliciting a gasp out of you as he toyed with the hem of your underwear.
“Wanna touch you some more before you make me cum in my pants…” he muttered out, low and sure. He touched you everywhere but where you needed him most. It was torture. It was so good.
He ran a single fingertip over your clothed core, groaning into your shoulder like a wounded animal when he felt how soaked you were. “Jesus Christ… you can't be real.”
Your hips bucked against his finger, your clit begging for something… anything. It was like he read your mind when he finally slid the crotch of your underwear to the side, taking that same finger and running it up your slit, collecting some of your slick and settling it on your swollen nub to rub painfully slow circles.
“Fuck, fuck Armin..” you moaned out, your hands reaching for his shoulders to steady yourself. Armin let out a stifled whimper at the sound of his name falling off your lips in such a perverted tone. He felt his dick pulse wildly in his pants, but his own release was the last thing on his mind.
He continued to work your clit with his finger, smiling against your skin when he felt you relax fully into his lap, every muscle in your body starting to become pliable. “Please, baby. Let me make you feel good…. let me take care of you in the way you deserve. God, you look so pretty. So fucking pretty.”
His muffled slew of words had you moaning profanities into the thick air around you, and he felt each one of them reverberate through his body and shoot straight to his crotch. He felt your heavy breaths on his skin, goosebumps trailing down his arms. He sped up his circles, watching the way you tilted your head back and rolled your hips into his palm.
The air was sucked out of his lungs every time he looked at you, it was almost painful how breathtaking you were. He was completely lost in you. You had him so deeply at your mercy, there wasn't anything he wouldn’t do if you asked for it.
A sharp gasp left you as he shifted his hand, using his thumb now to rub your clit while his middle finger toyed at your entrance. He tilted his head to look at you, his eyes dazed and on fire despite their cool hue. “Can I…?” He asked sweetly, so sweetly that you felt your chest swell. He was the kind of lover you’d hoped for most, devoted but deeply desperate. Once he felt the way your body responded to him, the only thing he thought about was how many different ways he could make you cum. His own pleasure was a distant afterthought.
You nodded furiously and a coy grin spread across his face. “I need you to tell me, y/n… need to hear you say it.” He teased as he dipped just the slightest bit of his fingertip into you. It took everything in him not to bury every last knuckle once he felt the tight band of muscle kiss his fingertip with a throb.
“God— please, baby. Need your fingers, don't you wanna feel me?” You pouted, your voice so erotic Armin thought he might die on the spot. He wasted no time, sliding his slender finger into you and cursing under his breath as he felt your walls immediately squeeze it.
“Hm— fuck, baby. You’re so tight… I’m gonna add another, okay?” He groaned, his question being met with a choked out ‘yes’ from you. He slid his ring finger into you to join his middle finger as his thumb continued to swirl around your clit. You whined into his neck, your body shuddering at the stretch.
You jutted your hips down onto his hand, and he took that as a green light. He started pumping his fingers in and out of you slowly, wanting to memorize the feel of you like this. He rolled his wrist against the inside seam of your jeans as he started fucking you faster with his fingers, looking down to see his hand stuffed desperately into your pants as you humped against it. He was done for.
Your face pressed up against his neck, drool threatening to leave your slightly agape mouth as he worked you out. His words were fucking filthy, his knack for writing showing even now.
“You feel so good… fuck— you have no idea how many times I’ve thought about making you moan like this.”
“I’m so fucking hooked on you, my god. Tell me what you want, I’ll do anything…”
”I can feel you squeezing, baby. You like it like this? I’ll give it to you over and over again.”
Your body hummed with rapture as he cooed his filth. Your mind was hazy, the only thing you could feel being his fingers working you out as if they were made for it. They started to nudge that spot deep inside of you that made spots appear in your vision. You choked out a moan, your voice wrecked and laced with pure bliss. “Shit— right there… don’t fucking stop.”
The way you demanded him made his chest flood with heat, his free hand coming up to toy with your nipple over the thin fabric of your bra. “I won't, baby. God, not when you sound like that… take this off, please.” He panted as he tugged at the underwire.
You reached your hands back behind you, your hips still grinding into his hand. You undid the clasp of your bra, your fingers trembling making it a little harder than it should’ve been. You let your bra slide down your arms and you tossed it aimlessly to the side.
Armin's eyes grew wide with desire at the sight of you. Topless, blissed out, bucking your hips to ride his hand. He let out a shaky whimper as he watched your tits bounce in his face. He grabbed one of your nipples between the thumb and forefinger of his free hand, rolling the sensitive bud.
“Oh god… baby I— shit. You’re gonna make me…” you cried out, the familiar bubble begging to swell deep in your stomach. Armin kept his movements steady, his voice dripping with desperation as he whispered into your ear. “Fuck, y/n. Let me make you cum… please. I need it. Need to know what you sound like when you cum, what you feel like…”
You sobbed out against him, a string of profanities falling from your lips. You felt yourself start to flutter around him, your eyes glued shut and your body thrumming with an indescribable pleasure. He lowered his head, using his free hand to hold your breast as he took your nipple into his mouth. You felt him swirl his tongue and bite down gently, and that sent you over the edge into oblivion.
You grabbed mindlessly at the hair at the base of his skull, tugging and letting out a ragged mewl. Your orgasm ripped through you like a bolt of lightning, all consuming and persistent. You shook wildly against him, and Armin's eyes were trailing your every movement. Every shiver felt sacred. Every moan made his dick spill a little more into his boxers.
His mouth found yours with fervor as he worked you down from your release, his kisses slow and tumultuous. The way you struggled to keep your mouth pressed to his made him want to drop to his knees. He wanted to make you cum so many times that he’d spoil the feeling for you for any lover after him.
You let out muffled cries into his mouth as he continued to pump his fingers slowly. He was still so greedy. He couldn't stop, his fingers would have to be ripped away from your pussy to make him stop.
You twitched harshly as his thumb brushed up against your overwhelmed clit. You croaked out a groan, grabbing his wrist to stop his movements as you collapsed into his lap, forehead falling to his chest. “B-baby… I c-can’t. Too much…”
Armin let out a stifled whine against your hair, but he reluctantly stopped his movements anyways. He was addicted to you, your smell, the feeling of your bare tits pressed up against him. He slid his fingers out of you and you shuddered from the loss.
He brought his fingers to his mouth with zero hesitation, sucking every last drop of you off of them. He let out a pathetic whine as the taste of you spread across his tongue, he would never get enough of you. “So perfect..” he muttered to himself as you finally began to catch your breath.
He shifted the both of you, holding your limp body against his like it was pure gold in his hands. He laid back and moved you to rest your head on his chest, his fingers tracing unrecognizable shapes onto your bare back. A few moments of bliss filled silence washed over the two of you before Armin broke it, his voice much mushier now. “…have you really been thinking about me too?”
You raised your head to look up at him, his eyes like a begging puppy. You let out a small giggle, your head falling back to his chest. “Armin, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. That's why I came here tonight in the first place.”
You felt his chest release, a deep exhale coming out of him like he was holding his breath that whole time. “I’m so glad you came tonight—“ he cuts off, bringing his hand up to his forehead and wincing when he realizes what he just said. “I mean, I’m glad you showed up. Yeah.”
You let out a stifled chuckle into his chest, him returning the favor as he continued. “Well I am glad you came too. You know, the other way. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my whole life and I’m really glad you felt safe enough to share that with me and… okay im just gonna shut up now.”
You laughed at how easily he got flustered, but you still rubbed small circles into his chest as reassurance. A way to say ‘I see you’ without any words. Your gaze shifted down to his crotch and the tent that remained firmly pitched in his pants. You reached to toy with the waistband, his hands quickly coming down to stop you.
You shot him a concerned look, his face turning a bright shade of crimson. His voice came out stuttered and slow. “You… don't have to do anything. This was about you anyways…”
Your brows lowered as you ran your palm over the hard ridge of his dick through his pants, his hips twitching and his legs shaking a little. He let out a choked sigh, his face turning impossibly redder. “I—fuck. I already uh…”
You cocked a brow, the confusion in your expression softening when you noticed the wet patch leaking through the fabric. Oh my god. You had made Armin Arlert cum in his pants. Without even touching him.
A wild smirk spread across your face as you looked back up at him, his hands covering his face as he let out a defeated laugh. “I told you it was the hottest thing I’d ever seen… I wasn't lying.”
synopsis: a kid calls Jean your "husband" and that's all he can think of for the rest of the night.
pairing: jean kirschtein x fem! reader
word count: 3.6k
c.w: modern au!, trost is a modern city, fem! reader, making out outside, smut, shower s-x, p in v, lots of sweet talk, a little bit of dirty talk, disgusting fluff mixed with some smut.
Your heart was going was to burst out of your chest.
You’re not sure how to put it into words, the way he crouched down when you told him that your heels were hurting your feet, his big and warm hands working their way around your ankles to massage them. Or the way he looks up when you put your hand on top of his head, heat crawling up your neck when your eyes meet his.
Jean Kirtstein, the man who asked you to be his girlfriend a year and a half ago, was the text-book definition of the perfect man. An attentive lover, someone who pays attention to what you do or say — husband material. You would be lying if you said you didn’t think of marrying him six months into your relationship, but you knew it would be too soon to bring it up and you would hate to freak out the man.
Even then, what would you say? You treat me better than half of the men I have been with, and so now I need to marry you.
Yeah, that would sound absolutely insane.
Tonight was no different, you could feel the love pouring out of him with every move he made. The arm wrapped around your shoulders, the hand squeezing your arm to make sure that you were warm. Trost was known to be a rather cold city, especially at night, but it never stopped you from having your date nights.
“What are we watching next?” Jean leans down to stare at your phone with you. You were scrolling through the long movie list you had made together, reading carefully through the movie titles.
“We can do… Beautiful Boy? We haven’t watched it yet, surprisingly.” You look up at your boyfriend and he nods.
“Okay, Beautiful Boy.”
“Oh, I’m gonna ugly-cry though…”
Jean lets out a laugh before pressing his lips to the side of your head, pulling you closer to him. “Not the first time I’ve seen you cry.”
You roll your eyes before shoving your phone back in the pocket of your long coat. “You’re lucky I love you.”
“Oh you do?” Jean smirks, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “I would’ve never guessed.”
But before you could come up with your own smart retort, a rather loud bang interrupts your moment. It pulls you back to reality for a moment, and you find yourself holding onto your boyfriend’s arm.
“What was that?” You whisper, too nervous to step closer to the sound.
Jean immediately goes into protective mode, gently pushes you to hide behind him.
“Who is there?!” He yells out, all protective and serious as his eyes scan for potential danger. You would’ve run away, had it not been the alleyway that leads directly towards your apartment building.
Another soft, wet sound comes from the alleyway, but this time Jean squints as he takes a closer look at what was happening.
Orange, white, a little bit of black….white, and then orange again. Fur. There is fur everywhere, and multiple pairs of bright eyes stare directly into yours and Jean’s souls.
Cats were gathered around the dumpster, only distracted for a moment by your presence before diving back into their food. You step from around Jean and towards the animals, your voice careful and concerned.
“I hope they’re not eating something spoiled.”
And as if they could understand what you were saying, their gaze immediately shifts towards something in the sky.
Or more like someone.
“Miss! Watch out!” A child’s voice can be heard from above, and you look up at the third floor window.
Two kids — a boy and a girl, had their heads sticking out of the window. The light was very bright from where they were looking, and you assumed that they were probably in the kitchen.
“Oh,” you place a hand on your chest as you realize what was happening, and you turn to Jean with what he can only describe as the biggest smile on your face. “Look, I think they’re feeding them.”
Jean approaches you with a warm smile, reaching his hand towards your face where he gently holds your jaw before leaning down to kiss your forehead. His carefulness makes butterflies dance in your stomach, and you move closer to him as the two of you watch the cats eat.
“Mommy says we can’t go out and feed them at night.” It’s the boy who speaks up this time, his words laced with disappointment. Jean is quick to respond to him.
“Your mommy is right, it’s dangerous at night.”
“But you’re outside at night.” The pout is so evident in his voice that it makes you chuckle.
His sister hisses at him, quickly correcting him. “They’re grown ups, dummy! Grown ups can walk outside at night!”
“Then I wanna be a grown up some day!” The boy exclaims loudly, before tossing another piece of meat down to the cats.
It seems that this was a regular occurrence, as the cats look fairly healthy and are full after a couple of bites. The kids bid them goodbye very loudly, and then you hear a loud shush coming from inside their apartment.
“It’s way past your bedtime!”
“But mommy! It’s the weekend!”
“And I let you feed the cats, now it’s time to sleep.”
“I wanna say byebye to the nice lady and her husband!”
That elicits a chuckle from you and a surprised sound from Jean who looks down at you. “Am I just an accessory now?”
You wrap your arms around his middle. “A nice accessory.”
“Byebye!” Both kids wave at you, and you and Jean wave back as you watch them retreat inside.
“Goodnight!” You exclaim loud enough for both of them to hear, and their giggles echo through the night before the window closes and the rest of the conversation is muffled.
You stand there, your arms still wrapped around Jean before you feel his eyes on you, warm and adoring.
“What?” You can feel your cheeks warming up under his gaze, his firm body feeling extra nice against yours.
“Husband, huh?” He tucks a hair strand behind your ear, taking in your flustered look. “I like that. Do you?”
The question comes out soft, careful — this was Jean’s way of testing the waters, the relationship in itself. He wanted to make sure that you two were on the same page, that the past year and a half of you two being together has been just as amazing to you, as it has been fulfilling to him. He cradles your face with his hand, his thumb brushing against your warm cheek as you gaze at him lovingly.
“I love it.”
Your words hang in the air for a few moments, surrounded by the silence of the night and your mixed breaths. Your chest feels tight, eyes brimming with tears because this was so incredibly overwhelming yet steadying. Because this was Jean, this wasn’t the man who had stood you up or the one who made you pay despite being the one to invite you on a date, or the one who expected sex after one date.
This was Jean, and not your ex-boyfriend who had told you that he wasn’t ready for commitment after being in a relationship for a year, nor was he the man who ghosted you after three dates.
You tilt your head, melting against his touch and allowing him to take the lead from here.
And soon enough, he leans down and captures your lips with his in what starts out as a gentle kiss. A couple of pecks turned into deeper kisses, and in no time you were burying your hands in his hair, fingers pulling at his mullet. The action elicits a soft sound from the taller man who pushes you up against the nearest wall, not before stumbling a bit and giggling against each other’s lips.
“Would’ve been bad if you fell.” He whispers in between kisses, his hand resting on the back of your head whilst the other grips your hip. You can feel the self-restraint slipping with each kiss, and it makes your body feel warm as you smile against his lips.
“You would’ve fallen with me so I don’t get embarrassed.” You tease him, your finger poking at his cheek and he chuckles, his hand falling from your head. He was now fully gripping your hips, caging you between the wall and his body.
“Mmm, my girl knows me so well.” He nudges your nose with his, smiling at your euphoric giggles. His lips attach against your cheek, then your jaw and down to your neck as you gasp in between giggles.
“Jean!”
“My girl, my wife,” he says the petname with so much pride, so much possessiveness that you could’ve sworn you felt your heart was about to explode.
“I have a feeling you like the sound of that,” you tease the man, brushing his hair away from his face before holding it in your hands. “Your face feels warm.”
“I love it,” he kisses the palm of your hand, before melting against your touch. “You have no idea.”
“Oh I think I do.” You whisper with a shy smile, your thumb brushing against his cheek. “My husband.”
Jean’s eyes widen for a moment, a strong feeling washes over him before he squeezes his eyes shut. He takes the hand that is holding his face before kissing it — its palm, its knuckles, repeatedly and so lovesick that you could feel your heart in your throat.
And then he opens his eyes, and his stomach flips at the way you’re looking at him. All flushed, almost drunk off his love for you. You were breathing hard, chest heaving as you stared at him as if he held the key to all of your secrets. Like he was the answer to all of your problems, as if existing without him was the worst and most unforgivable sin.
He pauses. Because telling you what he was thinking would ruin it, saying out loud that he was thinking of a million ways to have a conversation with your family about proposing to you would ruin the surprise. Because revealing that he had been saving up for a ring for the past six months would make you worry about him, about whether or not he was using his own salary for himself.
Jean knows you like the back of his hand. And he knows that if he were to propose tomorrow, with a paper ring and a shoebox for a house, you would accept.
But he would never do that — you were his princess, his sweetheart, his love. He was going to make you live out the fairytale of your dreams.
—
It should be illegal to be this attracted to your partner.
Jean’s eyes have been devouring your body ever since you got home, watching you walk around your shared bedroom then head for the bathroom. He leans against the doorframe as you remove your make-up, getting ready for the night as you grab a towel and your skincare products. Sensing his presence, you look at your boyfriend and smile.
“What?” you step closer to the shower before turning on the faucet. Jean quietly moves behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle.
“I can scrub your back?” He whispers against your cheek, groaning loudly when the smell of your perfume hits his nostrils. You giggle, a bit taken aback by his boldness.
“You never just scrub my back.” You point out, and the taller man playfully bites down on your earlobe.
“Did I say just scrub your back?” His hands sneakily find their way on your bare thighs, traveling their way up and under the fabric of your dress. “Scrub your back, wash your hair—”
Your hands rest on his toned forearms, smiling to yourself when you feel him squeeze your thighs.
“Soap my body too?”
This elicits another groan from Jean, and he swiftly reaches for the zipper of your dress. “Alright, let’s take it off.”
You can’t help but laugh at the urgency in his voice, but you’re also deeply flustered by how easy it is to make his self control crumble.
“Don’t forget yourself,” you mutter as he finishes unzipping your dress, taking a step back so you can step out of it and stand in front of him wearing only panties. With deliberate slowness, you undo the clasp of his belt and let it slide free. You thread it carefully through your fingers before gently yanking Jean towards you.
You continue to lift the leather belt through its loops, your other hand undoing the buttons of his white blouse. You let the belt drop to the floor, the sound of metal clanking against the tiles echoing through the bathroom, then you move closer to the man until your boobs are pressed against his bare chest.
The air is charged as you wrap your arms around his neck, a bashful smile dancing on your lips. “I wanna see all of you as well.”
Whatever self-restraint Jean had is long gone the moment he feels your skin against his. His lips crash against yours, messy and hurried as he swallows your sounds with his mouth. His big, warm hands grope your ass cheeks as you press your groin against his, gasping against his lips when you feel the growing bulge against your stomach.
You open your eyes, half-lidded and glossed over as you pull away from the kiss to catch your breath. But Jean captures your lips again, and you gasp when he pushes you up against the cold shower glass.
“I know baby,” your stomach twists at his tone — teasing yet mocking, and you pout at the man when you notice his playful smile. “Look at your nipples, they’re hard.”
He wastes no time in touching you, his thumb roughly grazing over the sensitive bud. Your back arches at the touch, your hand resting on his chest to make a small distance between the two of you.
“The water’s running.”
With a soft push, you put a little distance between the two of you before easing the glass door aside, Jean’s gaze following you. You step under the running water, making sure that your back was facing Jean as your fingers slide under the edge of your underwear. Looking over your shoulder, you send Jean a smile as you gradually work your underwear down and over your hips.
Once fully naked, you hear rustling coming from outside of the shower and smile to yourself as you see Jean yanking his blouse off his body then practically jumping out of his pants and boxers.
“You’re fucking gorgeous, d’you know that?”
You gasp as you feel his hands on your boobs, shamelessly groping and fondling them as you reach for the body wash. You hum in response, pushing your ass back so that it grazes his now fully erect cock. Immediately, Jean folds against you as he rests his forehead against your shoulder.
“Are you okay baby?” you ask and Jean can tell you’re finding this way too amusing.
“Mmmm,” is all he can say as he pushes his cock against your ass, his hand sliding down from your boob down to your stomach. It rests on your pubic bone, and the tall man can tell that you’re slowly losing patience as well just from the way your body was reacting to him.
You shudder at the feeling, hips bucking up. You wish he could just fuck you stupid, but a part of you was enjoying the build up a little too much.
“Was just thinking,” his chin is now propped on your shoulder, eyes staring down at your boobs and the rest of your body. “About how bad I want to fuck you.”
You sigh, cheeks flaring up at his dirty confession. Your hand reaches behind you to cradle his face, and you turn your head to look at him. “How bad do you want to fuck me, Jean?”
Pressing his forehead against yours, Jean carefully nudges the tip of his cock against your wet folds. It’s a euphoric feeling despite the lack of penetration, and he basks in the way your face contorts and twists when he swipes the tip of his cock over your clit.
“Til you feel it in your stomach, baby.”
You bite down on your lip, sighing at his words. “Please.”
The first thrust feels like you have been sent to heaven and back. It feels good, comforting, your warm walls hugging his cock so tight that Jean curses under his breath and bites down on your shoulder to suppress his own noises.
“Fuuuck, you’re so tight. Don’t I fuck you enough, huh? How’s this pussy still so fucking tight?”
You can only moan in response as you start to fuck yourself back against him, a gutteral sound escaping Jean as he watches your ass recoil with each thrust. He only lets you do the work for a couple of moments before his hand hooks under your leg, lifting it up as he starts to fuck you hard.
You gasp, holding yourself up against the wall as your eyes roll back.
The obscene sound of his cock pumping in and out of you fills the bathroom, the large vein that wraps around his dick dragging against your folds with each thrust. And he reaches so deep inside you that it elicits an embarrassing moan out of you, one that has you covering your mouth.
“Don’t hide from me,” Jean quickly removes your hand from over your mouth, his pace quickening. The tip of his cock reaches spots inside you that your own fingers can’t, and you quickly figure out that holding up your leg allows him to reach even deeper if possible.
The light-brown-haired male can no longer hide his own sounds, as the lewd sound of his hips violently slamming against yours were the only thing to reach his ears. The feeling of your tight pussy is the one thing that he can feel in his entire body, and he makes it his mission to make you cum as hard as you can.
“Fuck, you’re taking me so well.”
He holds you up well, making sure that you were balancing yourself well as he continues to fuck you with your leg in the air. Your leg starts shaking when the tip of his cock grazes that spot, and so he frees your leg before wrapping his arms around your body. With embarrassing ease, Jean manhandles you so that you are pressed face first against the glass door of the shower.
“What I’d take to see what you look like right now,” he mumbles against your ear, his cock buried deep inside your pussy. He starts to fuck you again, this time going so deep that you could almost feel him in your stomach.
It makes your eyes roll back, your cheeks stinging from the heat as your body gives out and lets him take full control. You rest your forehead against the glass when the pleasure becomes mind-numbing, your hands reaching behind you to grip his forearms as he continues to fuck you so good.
“Oh my god Jean, oh my god—”
“Don’t stop?” His voice was strained, he was close too.
“Please!”
Saying the magic word always got you what you wanted. Jean’s hips are relentless as he continues to slam the tip of his cock exactly how you liked. Coupled with his hands gripping your hips so possessively, your orgasm hits you like a train.
Your body shakes, goosebumps forming all over your skin as your pussy gushes on his cock. And you can’t stop cumming, Jean’s cock keeps fucking into you as he chases his own release and mutters filthy words of praise against your hair.
“My perfect woman, my pretty wife taking my cock like a fucking champ.” His moan is long and drawn and you cry out even more when you feel his hand go around your body to rub at your poor and neglected clit. “You’re so fucking good for me, you’re gonna cum for me again. Right?” His teeth sink into your earlobe and you sigh, your body temperature rising as you nod.
“Yeah!”
“Good girl.”
Jean gives one final slam of his hips before he’s emptying himself inside your pussy, cock nestled between your tight and warm walls. You take a moment to catch your breath, your body still twitching and recovering from what just happened.
You tell your boyfriend that you two need to hurry and wash up before the warm water runs out, and he jumps in action as he scrubs both your body and his, rinsing with water before stepping out to grab towels for the two of you.
By the time he returns with a warm towel, you’re trembling from the cold.
“Sorry I took too long.” You shake your head, letting him wrap the towel around your body.
“It’s okay,” you smile as you kiss his cheek. “Cover yourself or you’ll get sick.”
Jean kisses your forehead before patting your butt. “Go get dressed, you look like a poodle.”
You feign being offended as you gasp. “Take it back!”
“Thought you liked me for my honesty!”
You shout from the bedroom. “No! I liked you because you were tall and handsome!”
You hear Jean make the same noise you made earlier. “My girlfriend is shallow?!”
“Better break up with me.” you say playfully and Jean pops his head from the bathroom, his face all serious.
a/n: she’s finally hereeee omg i haven’t had this much fun writing something in a minute so i hope yall enjoy it <333 also there is quite a bit of spanish dialogue and it is unfortunately from google translate so just bare w me lmao
synopsis: a tale about two childhood best friends who *gasps* turn into lovers hehe
wc: 16k//// cw include: super fluffy in the beginning they’re so cute, pretty angsty in the teenage part bc well . . . they’re teenagers, mentions of connie being a dealer as an adult, a lot of flirting and banter— now for the nsfw part: kissing, connie being a tease, oral f & m!receiving, fingering, connie humps the bed while he eats it, dirty talk in english and spanish, choking, protected sex turned to unprotected sex, finger sucking, slow sex n’ rough sex, connie cums in and on her pussy, cum eating, aftercare!!!
‘sometimes when i’m lonely, i sit and think about him. and it hurts to remember all the good times.’
february 14th, 2007 . . .
“c’mon y/n! i don’t wanna be late for the valentines party!”
“slow down con, you’re walkin’ too fast!” you cried out, little feet trying their absolute best to keep up with connie’s fast strides. the chilly wind whipped around you both, nearly knocking you over. “make sure you hold on tight to your valentines, i’ll be so sad if i don’t get one from you,” connie giggled, referring to the paper bag full of bratz themed valentines for your entire first grade class.
you responded with a nod, and an obnoxious sniffle, the icy breeze making your nose stuffier by the second. connie looked over at you and giggled once more, “you look like a giant pink marshmallow.” you joined him in laughter, mitten covered hand reaching up to adjust the pink wool scarf your mother had recently just bought you around your neck.
you were wearing a pink coat that was a size too big, along with a big fluffy hat and mittens to match. “momma said i had to wear all this if i wanted to walk to school with you.”
speaking of school, it was just right up ahead! just as you were about to cross the street, connie slammed his arm against your chest nearly knocking you over. “we gotta wait for the crossing guard, remember?!” you looked at him in pure confusion before a woman wearing a neon yellow vest approached you both.
“you two ready?” she asked with a sweet smile. immediately you froze up, the stranger danger sirens in your head blaring. “yes, we’re ready! c’mon, y/n, don’t be scared,” connie took your hand in his, his free hand grabbing onto the crossing guards. as you walked across the street you couldn’t help but be jealous at how connie was never shy around strangers, adults especially.
in his eight years of being on this earth, connie has always been a social butterfly. whether it’d be saying hi to strangers at the grocery store or playing freeze tag with a random group of kids at the park, connie was always a friendly soul to be around.
“thank you ma’am, have a happy valentine’s day!” connie beamed at the crossing guard before dragging you up the stairs to the school.
you immediately relaxed at the warmth that greeted you when you stepped inside. “c’mon, i’ll walk ya to class,” connie gave you a small smile, enveloping your hand in his once more. as connie walked you to class, various students from different grades said hello to him, some of the older kids even fist bumped him! it was amazing in your eyes
“lemme help you with your stuff,” he mumbled, setting his own valentines on the ground beside him. as you took off your mittens, connie unzipped your coat and snatched off your hat, grinning when you whined about him messing up your hair. “momma spent a lot of time making sure my hair doesn’t stick up,” you huffed, running your hand over the slicked part of your bun.
after hanging up your backpack and coat on the hooks outside your classroom, you turned around to see connie giving you a toothy smile, spider-man valentine in hand. you gasped, eagerly snatching the small card with a lollipop taped to it out of his hand. “thank you, connie! i can’t wait to eat the sucker!”
“i have something else for you too, but it’s a surprise! i’ll give it to you at the end of the day, i gotta go!” and with that connie gave you a bone crushing hug before literally sprinting to his classroom, which was just a few doors down.
while you were in the first grade, connie was in second. this however didn’t stop him from trying to see you as much as he could! sometimes when his class was in the hall you’d see that bald little head peek from the door, smiling at you while waving. during passing times for lunch or recess, he’d always look for the girl with the greased up face, and multiple bows in her hair—it was usually pretty easy to find you because you were always the line leader.
“come on, y/n! let’s get this valentines party started!” you heard your teacher call out. with one last glance at connie, your grabbed the bag containing your valentines before headlining into your classroom.
being the enthusiastic seven year old you were, you expected to get quite a few valentines from your fellow classmates, but unfortunately that wasn’t the case. you got a total of eight valentines out of the seventeen children in your class—apparently they thought it would be funny to skip over your basket.
this just broke your little heart.
by the time the day ended you were a puffy faced, crying mess. getting only a handful of valentines had put you in a sour mood, a frown etched on your lips for the entirety of the day. connie had noticed this, and for some reason it made his chest feel funny seeing his best friend in such sad spirits.
as you zipped up your coat you were startled by a familiar voice behind you. “hey! how was your valentines party?! ours was awesomeeee, i got so many valentines and candy—o-oh . . . why’re you crying y/n?”
midway through connie’s sentence you had burst into tears once more, fat, hot tears running down your cheeks and onto your coat. “i-i *hiccup* barely got any valentines *sniffle* f-from anyone,” you covered your face with your hands, tears seeping into the fabric of your mittens.
connie’s mind was racing. what would an adult do in this situation, better yet how would his mom handle it?
without thinking he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you impossibly close. his mommas hugs always made him feel better. he just held you for a minute and let you cry, glaring and sticking his tongue out at anyone who stared at you both for too long. “c’mon, let’s go before a teacher comes,” connie mumbled into your hair.
before you could even process what was happening, connie was dragging you away, holding your hand tightly in his. the second you walked outside and saw your mother along with connie’s waiting for you, a fresh batch of tears brimmed your lash line.
“what’s wrong with my baby?” your mother asked, her lips turning into a frown. you didn’t really pay much attention to the conversation, and you didn’t really care now that your momma was there to make things all better. you just jumped into her arms, buried your face in her neck, and cried your heart out.
“she didn’t get a lot of valentines,” connie muttered, grasping onto his mothers hand.
the walk back was pretty silent on your end aside from tiny sniffles and hiccups. connie held your hand the entire way to your apartment, he tried to make conversation but you just weren’t having it. before you knew it you were finally back home.
“this is for you,” connie mumbled, unzipping his backpack to reveal a pink teddy bear, along with a valentine’s day card.
suddenly the world stopped.
you were still as a statue, your lips turning into a pout as connie placed the items in your hands. “f-for me?” you sniffled, hugging the bear to your chest. connie grinned at you, nodding his head bashfully.
“how sweet! say thank you, y/n!”
you were still for a few moments before throwing your arms around connie’s neck, bringing him in for a bone crushing hug. “those other valentines were probably lame, you can have some of mine from the second graders.” that had you squealing so loud bystanders had to cover their ears.
“thank you con, you’re the bestest best friend ever!” you hugged the teddy bear to your chest again, snuggling it extra hard.
watching your mood do a complete three sixty made connie’s heart swell. which was weird. it wasn’t until lately that every time connie saw you his tummy erupted with butterflies, but . . . he actually liked it?
he liked being around you. he liked the way you always smelt like shea butter and fresh laundry, he liked whenever you would share your snack with him on the way home from school, but what he really liked was that you never tried to dim his shine. connie was a hyper kid, very talkative too, and kids were mean to him for no reason sometimes about it, but you . . . you were never mean to him. you always welcome him with open arms and a smile.
that night, connie talked to his momma about that strange feeling he gets in his tummy whenever he sees you—come to find out it’s called a crush.
“¿explica lo que significa de nuevo, mami?” connie asked, taking a sip of his apple juice. connie’s mom laughed, she folded her hands and rested her chin on them.
“it means you like her, and you care about her, and that’s good! y/n is probably still a little young to understand this, and honestly you are too, but i feel like you’re mature enough to know about this kinda thing. maybe one day when you’re older you can tell her, yeah?”
“yeah, maybe. that stuff is gross though.”
february 14, 2014 . . .
“c’monnnn, y/n. ¡date prisa, chica, date prisa! we’re gonna be late!”
“i know, i know i’m sorry! i totally overslept,” you called out to connie, securing your scarf around you neck. your nose scrunched at the wind that whipped at your face, your lips already beginning to feel dry.
on the decent down the stairs to the sidewalk you nearly slipped, almost busting your butt. “dios mío,” he chuckled, extending his hand to help you down the rest of the way. you quietly thanked him, ignoring the warmth flaring in your cheeks. connie hooked his arm around yours, “hold on to me, i don’t want you to slip again.”
you didn’t protest, you just nodded and quietly thanked him once again. the walk to your school was silent until connie spoke up, “happy valentine’s day.” you looked up at him, giving him a small smile and little nudge to the side. “happy valentine’s day, connie.”
trying to sound as nonchalant as possible connie said, “did you buy any roses to give to anyone? i heard today at nine is the last time to do it.” you quickly responded with a no, your eyes trailing down to the gravel below you.
“do you think you’ll get any?”
you thought to yourself for a moment before shaking your head, “nah i don’t expect it, but that’s okay.” you weren’t bothered by it completely, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t jealous of the girls who talked about getting roses from their crushes. but all was well, your plan for the day was to bury your nose in the latest romantic novel you purchased. the book was probably a little mature for you, but hey, a little make out scene between two star crossed lovers here and there never hurt nobody.
“what about you? did you buy any? plan to receive any?”
you rolled your eyes when connie burst out laughing, nearly stopping your walk entirely to catch his breath. “you’re so dam—d-dang annoying . . . you’re so annoying,” you huffed, unlinking your arm from his. connie wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to his side once again. “nah, nah, don’t be like that. it’s not my thing though. i didn’t buy any, and i don’t plan to receive any.”
you hummed, kicking a nearby rock with your foot. as you were walking you couldn’t help but smell a faint musky scent. you sniffed, and then sniffed again, this time you got a stronger whiff when you smelt connie. was he wearing . . . cologne?
“is that you smellin’ like that?” you giggled, stuffing your nose in his neck, and sure enough you smelt cologne. for the first time since you were kids you saw connie blush, it was kinda cute, but in a friend way kinda cute. at least that’s what you told yourself.
connie rubbed his glove covered hand over his freshly buzzed hair. “aish! yeah, i put on some cologne, but only because my mom sprayed on a little before i left the house,” he muttered, clearly lying through his teeth.
the truth was, he had asked his mom to buy him some for today, and after all her teasing and pesky questions she caved and got him some. he told her it was for another girl in his class, but really, it was for you to notice and you only.
as the years went by connie’s innocent crush turned into a full blown one. by the time he was thirteen, he kinda had a holy shit moment as he finally admitted to himself that he indeed did have a crush on his best friend. how cliche.
“well it’s nice . . . makes you smell, uhm, grown? i don’t know, but i like it,” your cheeks felt hot as you spoke, and you hoped connie didn’t notice the slight shakiness in your voice as you finished talking. newflash, he noticed, and it filled his chest with so much pride he felt as if his heart was gonna explode.
you noticed the grin on connie’s face and kissed your teeth, “don’t be weird about it, weirdo.” connie smirked, he pulled you in real close for a side hug, then released you. “you’re the weirdo. talkin’ about how i smell ‘grown’, whatever that means,” he cackled, running a few steps ahead of you to avoid getting a smack on the back of the head.
the two of you continued small talk until you, unfortunately, made it to school. “take my hand again, don’t want you to fall in front of everybody right?” seriously, you were this close to punching him. but nonetheless you took his hand, graciously thanking him inside your head for looking out for you.
“i’m gonna go, but i’ll see you at lunch yeah?” connie spoke softly, nudging your side with his elbow. you wanted to be selfish and tell him that he should spend the morning with you, but you bid him farewell nonetheless with a smile on your face. the second he was out of sight a frown took over your lips. you couldn’t help but wonder if he noticed you were wearing a new gloss today, or you changed your perfume scent from lavender to coconut. boys were so hard to read.
the day went by slow, as usual, but when the last period of the day came around things got a little interesting.
“valentine roses! we have valentine roses!” you heard someone shout from the door of your classroom. you took your eyes away from your book to see three students wearing various pink and red articles of clothing. “mm, whatever,” you hummed, looking back down at your book.
a few minutes passed, and just when you thought the commotion was over, one of the students approached you. looking up over your lashes, you raised a brow. “these are for you, all from the same person,” they said, giving you a small smile before handing you three red roses.
your mouth dropped, unable to find the correct words. there was no way this was real right? there was no way someone bought three roses for you. “w-who are these from?” you questioned, running your thumb along the soft petals of the roses. the girl tapped on a heart shaped card that was tied to the stems with a ribbon, “they had the choice to write a message in here. they either signed it or left it anonymoussss.” the girl gave you a tiny smile before walking away, leaving you completely dumbfounded.
with shaky hands, you opened the card.
‘U R 2 CUTE’ the card had said in bold, pink letters, and at the bottom in parentheses it said ‘for real :)’.
you recognized this handwriting all too well.
you nibbled on your bottom lip, a giddy smile making its way onto your lips. you couldn’t believe connie had done this for you. after all the smack talk and fake gag noises about anything romantic, connie was the last person you expected to receive a rose from. and what did he mean by ‘for real’ ? did he think you were cute, did he think you were . . . pretty?
for the rest of the period you sat there, admiring your roses. you had to ask connie about it, you had to! so when the bell rang you made a beeline for connie’s locker. thankfully he was there, unfortunately his friends were too.
when he saw you, he couldn’t help but smile, but then he saw the flowers you were clutching in your hand. there was nooo way he could let his friends find out he actually participated in the rose giveaway.
“um, i’ll see you guys around,” he muttered, slamming his locker shut before making his way over to you. once you were in reach he gently grabbed your wrist, “vamos a casa, m’starving and need a snack.” without any protests you let him lead the way with tiny, minuscule, little hearts in your eyes.
“you really got these for me?” your voice was tiny, barely audible, and if connie wasn’t so close to you he probably wouldn’t have even known you were speaking. he looked at you and then the ground, his cheeks turning bright red. “well, yeah. i thought flowers would be better than another teddy bear.” he smiled at the last part, remembering his last visit to your bedroom.
you were already into plushies and beanie babies big time, and he did no favors adding onto your collection. each of six teddy bears he got you were lined up neatly on your bed, not a head or paw out of place. connie, being the fourteen boy he was of course, wreaked havoc on the poor teddys, tossing them around and making them do obscene positions much to your horror. they all had names as well, but you have yet to reveal them to save yourself from anymore embarrassment.
“this was really nice of you con, i really wasn’t expecting you to do this,” you couldn’t hide the giddiness in your voice as you spoke, your lips breaking into a shy smile. “ay dios mío, please don’t make it a big thing. let’s talk about something else pleaseeeee!” connie dramatically threw his head back, his cheeks so hot if felt as if someone had placed hot coals on them.
“whatever, weirdo.” you giggled, gently backhanding his chest.
after a few minutes, connie pulled out his phone and headphones. “wanna listen to music with me?” you grinned at him, nodding eagerly before taking an earbud. connie only really listened to songs in spanish, and maybe some rnb on side, but he only listened to songs in spanish with you to help you learn the language better. you caught on pretty fast to the basics when you were younger from hearing him and his mom interact with each other, but as you got older connie wanted you to know more. sometimes he’d quiz you and sometimes he’d just say a whole sentence you didn’t understand over and over until you got it right—he was actually a pretty good teacher for a fourteen year old.
as you were walking you kept feeling connie’s fingers brush against your own. your heartbeat quickened, teeth clamping onto your bottom lip as you decided if you should engage or not. i mean, what if it was accident and he got creeped out? but then again, it wasn’t an odd thing for you and connie to hold hands outside of school.
your thoughts were interrupted when connie hooked his pinky around yours, securing them together. you didn’t say anything, too stunned and shy to mutter even a word, but you did give his pinky a squeeze to let him know the action was welcomed.
“did your mom tell you we’re coming over tonight?” connie asked, referring to him and his mother. you smiled at him, and nodded. “of course she did! it’s like—”
“trying saying it in spanish, chica!”
you hummed, racking your brain for the right words and pronunciation. “uhm . . . okay, uh, es como nuestra tradición?” connie tapped on his chin and hummed, he had the most unserious serious look on his face it almost made you laugh.
“¡correcto! i’ve taught my student well,” he smirked, giving your pinky a rough squeeze.
before you knew it you were outside your apartment building. “here’s your card, i’m happy you like the flowers.” there was a slight shake in connie’s hands as he held the card out, thankfully you didn’t seem to notice.
you took the card, an eruption of butterflies swarming in your stomach. without saying anything you wrapped your arms around him, and as you pulled away you left a tiny peck on his cheek. connie’s eyes widened, his body tensing. “t-thanks for the roses n’ the card. i’ll be sure to take care of them and, uh, i guess i’ll see you later!”
“b-bye y/n! prepare to have your butt kicked at mortal combat when i see you!” you laughed on the your way up the stairs, you turned around to give connie one last wave and smile before heading inside.
the second the door to the building shut connie exhaled a deep breath he didn’t even know he was holding. “was that my first kiss? nah, nah, can’t be . . . well, it counts a little bit,” he giggled to himself, turning on his heels to make his way home. the whole walk home all he could think about was the peck on the cheek you gave him.
he took off his glove and pressed his fingers against the spot on his cheek you kissed, he was intrigued to find out the area was a little sticky. he brought his fingers to his nose, senses immediately overwhelmed by the scent of strawberries. ‘strawberry lipgloss . . . nice,’ he thought to himself, a blush creeping up on his cheeks.
the second connie walked in the door of his apartment, he made a beeline for the only person worthy of knowing this information: his mom.
he found her in the kitchen, the smell of her famous pollo guisao wafting into his nose. “estoy casa, mami,” he mumbled, giving her a quick hug from behind. “one sec, hijo, i’m almost done with this. feel free to grab a snack, i bet you’re starving.” connie didn’t need to be told twice, his stomach growling at the thought of some kind of greasy snack.
“alright, that should be good,” she hummed, dusting her hands off on his apron before making her way over to connie, who was munching on a bag of chips. “¿cómo estuvo la escuela?” she asked, taking a seat on the couch next to him. connie hummed, popping another chip into his mouth.
it was silent for a few beats until she smacked him on the back of the head. “w-wha? ow! what was that for, ma?” he whined, rubbing the back of his head. “boy, you know what i wanna know. did you buy the flowers for that girl today?” connie nodded, not being able to fight the grin creeping up on his lips.
“it was y/n, wasn’t it? she’s also the one you wanted to wear cologne for, right?” connie’s jaw dropped, his fist unintentionally crushing the bag of chips he was holding. she smirked at him, reaching a hand over to gently run over his hair. “una madre siempre sabe cuando su hijo está mintiendo, mi amor.”
connie sank further into the couch, his brows furrowing in annoyance. how was she able to read him so easily? “whatever, mami, but yes, it was for her. the b-best part though was when he got to her house she kissed me!—well, on the cheek, but still.”
all connie’s mom could do was smile at her son—ah, young love. “you two are so freakin’ cuteeee!”
“mami pleaseeee stop!” he groaned, covering his face with his hands. her pesky teasing went on for a few more moments before she gave him a serious look. “i have something for you, wait here,” she spoke softly, getting up from the couch and going into her room. when she came back out she was holding a rectangular shaped box.
she sat next to connie and slowly opened the box, revealing a gold cuban link chain. “it was yours dads. i scrounged up every penny i had, and bought it for him on our two year anniversary. él llevó esto a todas partes.” she laughed at the last part, her lips turning into a sad smile.
connie took a closer look at the chain, his lips turning into a frown. “you sure, mama? i know his stuff is important to you,” he whispered, but his mom shook her head, letting out a little sniffle. “i want you to have it, mi cariño . . . he would’ve wanted you to have it. just promise me one thing.” she took the chain out the case, and gently placed it over connie’s head.
“excuse my language when i say this, amor—wear this shit with pride, just like your dad did. he was a good man, with a great life, n’ a good family and i want all the same for you, okay?” she chuckled when she saw a stray tear roll down connie’s cheek. “no tears, amor, no tears. just promise me that one thing.” connie sniffled and nodded his head—
“i promise, mami.”
february 14th, 2018 . . .
“this fuckin’ girl,” connie groaned, his head tilting back to look at the cloudy, grey sky. he had a card in one hand, and a bouquet of flowers in the other for none other than you, his lovely best friend. he settled on a bouquet of pink tulips this year, deciding to switch it up from the usual roses he gave you.
his ears perked up when he heard the sound of someone coming out of your apartment building. there you were, looking cute as cute as ever in your oversized baby pink coat, along with a hat and mittens to match. “i know, i know, i’m sorryyy,” you giggled, taking careful steps down the slippery stairs.
“yeah, yeah whatever,” he smirked, looking you up and down before holding up the card and roses. you gave him a toothy grin, happily accepting the gifts from him. “thank you con, eres tan dulce.”
connie tongued the inside of his cheek, “ah, it’s nothin’. c’mere.” connie reached an arm out, tatted hand gently grabbing your coat to pull you in for a hug. the smell of his cologne had you relaxing into the hug, your arms tightening around him.
if any stranger were to see you two right now, it would obviously look like you two were together, but unfortunately for connie, that was not the case. it gets worse, you actually have a boyfriend. some motherfucker got to you before him, and he gets mad about it everyday because he had so. much. time. to make you his. you’ve been with the guy for nearly seven months and connie’s jealousy never dimmed.
“alright, alright, let’s get going before we miss the bus,” you mumbled into his jacket, ever so slowly detaching yourself from his embrace. connie huffed, but nonetheless followed after you.
you didn’t link arms anymore, and he didn’t wrap his arm around you—apparently that was a big no no for your boyfriend. connie kinda understood him in a way, if you were his and anyone laid a finger on you he’d go ballistic. at least you were able to listen to music together on your walk to the bus stop, and on the ride to school.
you whipped out your phone and headphones, passing one to connie. “man, no you’re always listening to those korean guys. i can’t understand shit they say,” his chest puffed up if faux annoyance because he knew he’d listen to whatever you played anyway. “well, i don’t care about none of that so here.”
“mmcht, fine. una niña tan mimada . . .” he grumbled, playfully side eyeing you. he loved getting on your nerves.
“i’m not spoiled.”
“yes you are.”
“okay and what about it, constance.”
“woah, my government name? my bad buddy, didn’t mean to strike a nerve there!” he chortled, raising his hands in surrender. if you weren’t connected by a pair of headphones you would’ve pushed him. “anyways . . . how did it go with your mom last night? i’m sure she was so pleased to see the new ink on your hand.”
connie’s shoulders slumped, “bro, you would’ve thought i killed someone the way she reacted. she was saying shit in spanish that i didn’t even know existed, shit was terrifying.” you doubled over in laughter at this, your hand slapping against his arm for stability.
“tch, it’s not funny, y/n. my head still hurts from how hard she threw her sandal at me,” he whined, tenderly rubbing the back of his head. he was expecting his mom to get a little upset about the tattoo, but figured maybe she’d show a little mercy because it was a tribute to his father—that was not the case. my mans got a very stern talking to, and a sandal to the back of the head.
“tuh, well that’s what you get! you know how she feels about tattoos.”
with a huff, connie waved you off, choosing to tune into the music blaring in his right ear instead. you didn’t have to wait long for the bus to come, though you didn’t mind the comfortable silence. when connie found two seats, he allowed you to go first. he always sat on the outside of seats, or walked on the side where the street was—he was a gentleman through and through.
“are you and your mom comin’ over tonight? i convinced my mom to take your favoriteeee.” you snorted, and looked over at him, “but, connie . . . you hate salmon.” connie shrugged, nudging your elbow with his own.
“i don’t mind it too bad when i know you like it so much.” his heart clenched at your smile, but the feeling soon faltered when you frowned, your teeth pulling your lip back to pick at the skin. he made a noise of disapproval, “hey, don’t do that. ¿por qué te ves así? ¿qué pasa?”
your lip popped back into place, and connie’s frowned deepened seeing a small speckle of blood. “well, like, my mom will be going over there, just . . . not me. i’m gonna be out with—”
oh.
connie’s lip twitched, and then slowly turned into the fakest smile you’ve ever seen. “that’s . . . fine. it’s fine. i probably won’t stick around for too long anyway.” your eyebrow perked up, “oh?”
he adjusted in his seat, his knee no longer touching yours. you didn’t understand why it bothered you so much, but it did. it bothered you a lot, actually.
you poked his shoulder, “did you have other plans tonight?” connie shrugged, his focus now on plastic wrapped about his healing tattoo. “jean and ony were talking about this party goin’ on tonight, and you know, since you ain’t coming tonight i might as well join em’.”
“yeah, i guess.” you mumbled, shrinking into your seat. connie noticed the change in your body notice immediately. you thought he was mad at you, it was written all over your face. it couldn’t have been further from the truth, his anger lied with your boyfriend, the dickhead breaking your tradition for the first time since you were kids and stealing you away from him for the night.
connie grinned at your pouting lips. he tapped your chin, taking it between his fingers. this was probably crossing a boundary, but you surely weren’t in a rush to pull away from him, at least that’s what it looked like to him.
“no te veas tan triste. nestoy enojado contigo, así que deja de hacer ese puchero, ¿sí?” you hated when he did this, his eye contact was always so intimidating. your nod was slow, like you were still unsure if he was telling the truth or not. he hummed, releasing your chin. “i promise,” he spoke softly, grabbing the gold, cuban link chain around his neck, “that i’m not mad.” thankfully you seemed to relax after that.
connie was a lot of things, but a liar was not one of them. he took pride in being an honest, good man, much like his father was. but sometimes people, and by people he means you, are stubborn and not so easy to convince, so he started this little thing that whenever he grabs his his dads chain it means he is telling the honest truth, and nothing else.
your eyes lit up the tiniest bit, your frown replaced with a small smile. “te creo, connie. te lo prometo.”
“ooo, look at you using your spanish. una chica tan inteligente,” connie smirked, patting your head three times. oh, how connie loved the the language sounded rolling off your tongue. he noticed you sounded more confident nowadays, and it made his heart swell with pride. “heh . . . thank you. now move your behind, this is our stop,” you grumbled, nudging his knee with yours.
when you got off the bus you were elated to see your boyfriend, eren yeager, waiting at the steps for you. you turned to connie, “i’ll see ya later, thanks again for the flowers! i’ll leave them with ms. jones for the day, she’ll watch them for me.”
“i’ll see you at lunch, okay? we’ll get sum to eat, unless your boy toy already has plans with you.” connie’s eyes zeroed in on the brunette behind you, his lips curling up in distaste. he didn’t care for eren if wasn’t obvious. he had a reputation, and not a good one, and you were too sweet to deal with anything of that nature, but somehow the boy swept you off your feet and you were smitten.
when the most popular boy at school asks you to be his girlfriend, you don’t say no, it’s a clear no brainer—connie thought that logic was bullshit, but he kept that comment to himself.
“well lucky for you he didn’t mention any plans about a lunch date, although he didn’t mention dinner plans either . . . but i’m sure it’s just a surprise.” bells went off in connie’s head when you mentioned that, but he stayed silent. you always found the bright side in things, he admired that about you.
“mm, well, i’ll see you later then. have a good rest of your day, princesa.” he squeezed your shoulder tenderly before walking off. he side eyed eren as he walked away, and ugh, the boy just pissed him off so bad. his face looked entirely too nonchalant for having the most beautiful girl in the city all for himself.
the day went by painfully slow, and then it was lunch. connie waited for you in the foyer, already having a place in mind lunch, but you were nowhere to be found. when he checked in with your favorite teacher, ms. jones, he was shocked to find out you had went home early. apparently you weren’t feeling well.
he decided to text you and check up on you, only to find out your phone was on do not disturb. now this was odd. you were never the type to keep your phone on silent, unless absolutely necessary, afraid that you might miss an important call or message.
leaving school early? phone on do not disturb? connie did not like where this was leading.
he opened instagram to look at your profile, and sure enough, his suspicious were confirmed when he saw the highlight you had dedicated to eren was no longer there. connie’s grip on his phone tightened, he was pissed. this man had the audacity to break up with you on valentine’s day? absolutely not.
i’ll spare the details, but just know it was a very eventful lunch period for paradis high.
forty five minutes later . . .
“use this to ice that,” the nurse treating connie muttered, her tone filled with annoyance. connie huffed, slouching back. this folding chair was really starting to hurt his ass.
the door opened and there revealed connie’s very angry mother, her lips balled up so tight it had connie shivering in fear. “Levántate ahora,” she hissed, clenching her fist at her side. connie let out a long sigh, the knot on his head throbbing harder by the minute.
the walk out of the office was very humbling to say the least, his mother wasting no time cursing him out in spanish, and it continued like that until they got home.
“i mean . . . what were you thinking getting into a fight at school?! you know that stays on your record, tu idiota!” connie’s head fell in his hands, an exasperated sigh slipping past his lips. he really didn’t feel like talking about this. he just wanted to see you.
“imagine how y/n will feel knowing you started a fight with her boyfriend, she already must know you don’t like—”
“¡ya ni siquiera están juntos, mami! . . . he broke up up with her.” it was silent for a few beats. “¿lo sabes con seguridad?” connie shrugged, doing his absolute best to explain the situation with you leaving school early, your phone being on do not disturb, and his missing highlight from your instagram. all his poor momma could do was sigh. “this is absolutely no reason to get into a fight, and get suspended over, constance. i’m very disappointed.”
before connie could respond, there was a knock at the door. his mom looked at him and then the door, “yo lo conseguiré, tú quédate aquí. this conversation is not over.” connie slumped back into the couch, his heart stinging at that word ‘disappointed.’
he didn’t pay too much attention to the visitor at the door, until he saw who it was. there you were in your pink and red, heart patterned sweater, the jeans you were once wearing now replaced with hello kitty pajama pants. “i have to run to the store, so i’ll give you two a minute, but make it quick please, y/n. he’s in big trouble.” and with that you two were left alone.
you slowly walked over to his spot on the couch, taking a seat next to him. you sniffled, “ . . . why’d you do that?” he was silent, that only frustrated you more. “do you realize he’ll probably never talk to me again? he already thought i was cheating on him with you, this only made things worse! i know you don’t like the guy, but connie, i like him a lot, i-i think i might even love him.”
this had connie gritting his teeth, and balling up his hands.
“dios mio, y/n, give me a fucking break. you don’t love eren, you don’t even know what love is, you’re seventeen.” this had you scoffing, how dare he try to turn this on you? “and what the hell do you know about love? you’ve never even been in a relationship for goodness sake!”
“i may not have been in a relationship, but i can tell you whatever you and eren had goin’ on was not love. he never took you out, bought you gifts, i mean shit, the only reason the guy posted you online was because you begged him to, and it was only twenty four hour stories. don’t even get me started when he forgot your birthday—”
“that’s enough!” you cried, jumping up in front of him. connie followed suit, his chest nearly touching yours. you two have had your fair share of fights, but this is by far is becoming the most serious one.
“what? can’t handle hearing that your boy toy was a shitty boyfriend?” he hissed, narrowing his eyes at you. your hands balled into fist, your french tips pinching the skin of your palm. “w . . . w-why do you even care so much huh?! why does him breaking up with me effect you so much, con, it’s getting exhausting!”
“¡porq ue estoy enamorado de ti, chica estúpida!”
your body tensed when connie pressed his lips against yours. it was fast, and awkward. it was his first kiss.
when he pulled away, you couldn’t help but feel small under his intense gaze. his cheeks were as red as tomatoes, and his nostrils were flaring—he was breathless. your lips started to wobble, a fresh batch of hot tears brimming your eyes. “connie, i—”
suddenly the door opened, and in walked his mother. he looked at her and then to you. “deberías ir,” he muttered, taking a step back from you. each movement he made was like a hammer to your heart, shattering it slowly with each step.
“m’kay *sniffle* i-i’ll see ya,” your voice cracked at the last part, and it had connie’s heart clenching. this wasn’t supposed to happen, none of this was. when he pictured himself confessing his crush to you, him sending you out of his house a minute later was not apart of the vision.
that night you and connie both cried in your mothers’ laps, hearts aching and yearning to text the other, but too scared to at the same time, afraid it would make things worse.
“lo arruiné todo, mami. probablemente esté muy enojada conmigo,” he muttered, his eyes fluttering shut when he felt her nails scratch at his scalp. she tsked, and shook her head. “you didn’t ruin anything, amor. y/n cares about you so much, you two will work it out. te lo prometo, mi amor.” he muttered out something that she couldn’t quite hear, but she just let him be, allowing him to peacefully fall asleep on her lap.
while connie was asleep he received two messages.
new message from day one : i’m not mad at u, but i think we need to have a talk tmmr about what happened today
new message from day one : i hope you’re okay, ily
you and connie did talk about it, and after a conversation that lasted four hours, you both came to an agreement to not date. connie mentally beat himself up the entire way home afterwards, because that was in fact not how he felt, but just from your tone he figured you weren’t interested. little did he know you were.
after he graduated you two still talked, but not as often, until you just didn’t talk at all. by that time you were freshly graduated, and preparing for a summer full of fun before starting college. you decided to choose one in your city, too scared to leave your momma alone, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.
connie took an interest in selling weed, and has since moved out of his moms apartment, where to? you had no clue.
february 14th, 2024 . . .
“girlllll, let’s go! you got thirty seconds to get down those stairs before i leave you!”
“you better not! it’s hard to get down these stairs with heels on!” you cried out, clutching onto the stair railing as you carefully went down. a sight of relief blew past your lips when you made it down safely. before getting in your friends car you tugged your skirt down, not that there was much to grab onto anyway.
“this skirt is entirely too tiny,” you grumbled, hopping in the passenger seat. anytime you made any sudden movement it was riding up your thick thighs, and you almost took it off, but you knew you’d be crucified by your best friend if you didn’t go through with wearing it.
you were heading out for a night at the club, and since it was valentine’s day, this certain club was allowing ladies to get fifty percent off all drinks.
the entire way there you were fiddling with your skirt, afraid that you were showing too much skin. “don’t worry about your outfit, ‘kay? you look good as fuck, y/n,” you friend grinned at you from the side, giving your arm a tender squeeze. “yeah, you’re right . . . i do look good. really good.”
before you knew it, you had arrived, your stomach doing somersaults when your friend turned the car off. she undid her seatbelt, and turned to you, she set her hands on your shoulders, and looked dead in your eye. “we’re gonna go in there and come out with some cuties, got it?” you let out a shaky breath, nodding your head.
the club was loud, and packed, but nonetheless there were some cute faces in the crowd. luckily your friend found two open seats at the bar, she was quick to secure them and immediately ordered a lemon drop for you. “i feel bad you won’t be able to drink since you drove,” you pouted, resting your arms on the bar.
your friend waved you off, insisting that she wouldn’t need the liquid courage like you would. it was shady, yes, but she wasn’t lying. you weren’t the slickest when it came to men, so it was a good thing you were a pretty girl.
“how’s your mom?” she asked, swiftly thanking the bartender when they set your drink in front of you. you hummed, tapping your fingernails against the glass. “she’s okay, we’re not out of the woods yet, but hopefully she’ll be in remission soon.”
a couple days after your twentieth birthday you had found out your mother was ill, and although you were willing to take a break from college and take care of her full time, she insisted otherwise. ‘this is your time to find yourself, and maybe someone special,’ she had said with tears in her eyes.
your friend gave you a warm smile, “that’s amazing, y/n. i’m really happy for you guys. now where are all the cute . . . guys, ” your brows pulled together as her sentence trailed off, her focus on something, or someone, behind you. “you see somebody?” you asked, taking a sip of your drink.
she nodded with a smirk, “there’s one right behind you. the one in the gallery dept. hoodie. he’s gonna be mine tonight.” you giggled, pushing your hand against the bar to get a look at the mystery man. your eyes widened when you realized it was onyankopon.
“oh . . . i—i know him. i went to school with him,” you muttered, turning your seat back. “were you two high school sweethearts, or something?” she teased, pinching your side. this had you scoffing.
“please. we were never together, but he was friends with my bes—um, ex best friend, connie.” her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “right, right. i remember you mentioning him. do you know if they’re still cool? *gasp* maybe they’re here together! i’ll call him over.”
“n-no, no no no. there’s no need to do that forreal,” it was hard to hide the nervousness in your voice. your friend hummed, tapping on her chin in faux thought. “you’re right, let’s go over there instead,” and with that she was hopping off her seat, her hand wrapping around your forearm.
you were stunned to say the least, your body stiffening as she tried to pull you from the bar stool. “but wait, wait, what if they actually are here together? y’know i haven’t seen connie in years and i just—”
you were silenced by a hand being placed in your face. “my dear y/n, no one on this earth go ahead in life by sitting in their behind, not come onnn.” you whined and protested when pulled again, spluttering out something about how you haven’t finished your drink. it took some serious convincing, and tugging, but your friend eventually got you up, wasting no time making a beeline for ony.
his back was facing you, but that didn’t stop your friend from tapping him on the back. “what’s good—oh, y/n! what’s up, girl?” ony grinned, pulling you in for a hug. you awkwardly hugged him back, giving his back a few gentle pats. “o-oh nothin’ much,” you were very grateful the music was so loud that he couldn’t hear the shakiness in your voice.
“what are you ladies up to tonight?” he asked, beckoning you more into his section. there were a couple other guys, and some girls taking up seats on the lounge couches, all immersed in their own conversations, besides one man. he sat on the farthest end by himself, a blunt perched between two tatted fingers. he was scrolling on his phone, his foot tapping along to the music every now and again.
“oh, you know, just a girls night out. i was actually hoping we could hangout with you? you seem nice . . . really cute too.” you couldn’t help but snort as your friend turned on her charm, ony immediately turning to putty in her hands. “why don’t you go mingle, y/n? i’ll have ony order you another drink, and don’t panic if you see you know who,” she gave you a sly wink before waving you off much to your dismay.
you decided to take a seat next to the loner with the blunt, wondering to yourself if he was even allowed to smoke that inside. your eyes drifted to the rings on his fingers, all coated with tiny diamonds. you leant to the side, close enough to where he could hear you, “i-i like your rings!”
and suddenly you were met with a pair of very familiar brown eyes staring back into yours. “connie . . ? !” you said his name as it were forbidden, your chest tightening. he looked at you for a moment, his brows pulling together as he examined your face, you figured it all clicked for him when he started grinning at you like the cheshire cat.
before you could say another word, he stood up, his reaching down for yours. “uh i—” you looked over at your friend who was already looking right at you. she had a giddy smile on her face, her hand waving in a not so subtle way to tell you to go with him. with no excuse left, you took his hand, the warmth from it sending shivers up your back.
as he lead you out of the section he passed the blunt he was smoking to ony, yelling something about how he’d back right back. while he lead the way, your eyes were focused on the way his hand grasped yours. it felt comforting, familiar.
when you got outside the cool, city air felt like heaven, but it didn’t stop goosebumps from forming on your skin when connie leant against a blacked out vehicle, his eyes zeroing in on yours.
“wow, s’really you.” his head tilted back in a laugh, giving you a small peek at the grills on his teeth. “¿cómo has estado, princesa?” his head tilted, awaiting your answer.
you wanted to speak, you really did, but the words would not leave your mouth. you were stunned to say the least, not only from seeing connie after years, but also how different he looked. he was way buffer, and now had a bit of facial hair, his signature buzzcut stayed the same. what caught your attention the most was the tattoos that covered his arms and neck. his few pictures on social media didn’t do him much justice.
“hello? anybody home?” he chuckled, waving his hand in front of your face. you blinked three times, your mouth opening, then closing.
“hi.”
you sounded strained, almost like you were in pain, it made connie laugh. “hi, y/n.” the way he smiled at you made you feel . . . weird. he was looking at like you like he wanted to devour you whole.
“sorry, it’s uh, it’s been a minute since we’ve seen each other in person. you look . . . different, i-i mean you look the same, but, not? i’m sorry—”
“hey, hey, relax. it’s just me remember? no need to be nervous, even if some time has passed.” he leant forward, grabbing your hand in his, he pulled you closer then let go, your hand twitched at the loss of contact.
he had a point. it was just connie, your childhood best friend, someone you’ve known longer than you haven’t.
you cleared your throat, clasping your hands behind your back. “well, i’ve been good. i’m sure you’ve seen that college is going well. met some new people, had a few failed relationships, you know, typical stuff.”
“thas’ wassup. i heard about your mom, i’m real happy for you y/n. ustedes dos no merecen nada más que bendiciones en esta vida.” warmth spread through your cheeks at his words.
“did that translate, or have you been lacking on your spanish, hm?” he teased, secretly hoping you have in fact been continuing to speak spanish. you giggled, waving him off. “i understand, and i really appreciate it. deberías visitarla algún día, le encantaría verte.”
his grin widened, “yeah? i figured she’d hate me after what happened with you and my mom. i’m sure you’ve heard some awful things from her about me.”
he was correct. whenever his mother did visit his name would somehow come up, and then it would lead to the same speech about how she felt like she failed him and how she hated his life choices. you agreed about the drug selling part, you weren’t very fond he chose that as a source of income, but when it came to the other awful things she spewed about him, you found it rather hard to believe. there was no way she was talking about your connie.
he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, his eyes drifting to the gravel. “i don’t blame her though, like at all. i gave her hell for months about . . certain things. i thought it was just best to keep my distance after i moved out. she hasn’t reached out to me, and vice versa.” this made you frown, and without thinking you wrapped your arms around him.
“oh, uh, thanks,” he stiff at first, but eventually relaxed into the hug, “feels good to hug you again.” you slowly nodded, sighing with content. it really was nice to be in his embrace again. his smelt different though, more mature, more expensive.
“you know, even though she says all that, she still misses you like crazy. momma told me so herself.” connie squeezed you a bit tighter, his chin finding place at the crown of your hair. “your momma has never been one to lie, so i’ll take your word for it,” he chuckled, leaning back against the car, taking you back with him.
your nose bumped into his sturdy chest, you looked up at him, giving him an apologetic look. he gently squeezed your side, “don’t worry about it.”
it was silent for a few beats. he cocked his head to the side, giving you his signature smirk, “why’re you lookin’ at me like that hm?”
“it’s just really good to see your face . . . i missed you connie. in case you don’t remember, you kinda stopped talking to me the summer i graduated.” connie licked his lips, the feeling of guilt slowly trickling over him. you looked like you had more to say, but as always you cut yourself off, your teeth picking on your bottom lip to stop yourself.
you nearly whimpered when his hand cupped your face, his thumb slowly pulling your bottom lip out. “veo que todavía tienes ese hábito. termina lo que ibas a decir, usa tus palabras.” you melted in his arms. his touch was so gentle, as if he was petting a week old kitten.
you took a deep breath, “well, it hurt connie. it hurt a lot, and like, i felt guilty, but i shouldn’t have felt guilty because . . . well, because i didn’t do anything! you kissed me, and then you ask me to leave like i did something wrong, a-and then when you agree to talk to me you acted like a fucking zombie, just nodding along to everything i said, not explaining literally anything at all. you completely ghosted me after you graduated, and then i have to hear from my mom that you’re fucking dealing?! i mean, what were you even thinking? and i don’t believe the bullshit about it ‘just being weed’, l-like y-you were an actual *sniffle* —
you hadn’t even noticed you were crying, you also hadn’t noticed you stepped three paces away from connie, too wrapped up in your anger. connie let out a shaky sigh, “sigue adelante.” connie was stunned. you were never one to raise your voice at someone, let alone yell at them. in a world full of people who ran over you your whole life, him included, he was more than happy to receive all the pent up anger you had built up.
you sniffled, lips wobbling as you choked down a sob. you probably looked crazy right now, but then again this probably looked like a normal situation seeing as you were outside a nightclub.
“you just left me hanging . . . friends don’t do that connie, n-not best friends that you’ve known longer than you haven’t. there was so much stuff i wanted to talk to you about, but i didn’t even know if you would give me the time of day.” by now you were close to hyperventilating, all the emotions you had been setting aside for years hitting you at once.
connie pushed off the car, outstretching his arms towards you, he pulled you in for a tight embrace, whispering little things in your ear to calm you down. “it’s okay, it’s okay, i’m here. i’m so sorry, you have no idea, cariño.”
“then explain yourself,” your muttered, words muffled by his shirt.
well, here we go.
“i wasn’t . . . i wasn’t being completely honest when we had that conversation. i didn’t want to be just friends, i wanted to be more, but then i thought ‘well, what if things don’t work out?’ so, i pushed you away. you have to believe me when i say dealing was the last thing i wanted to do, but if you want to live a good life as quickly as possible you have to do things you’re not proud of. you gotta understand, i was around some bad people for a while, the kind of bad people that would hurt someone i care about. i didn’t want that to happen, and my mom was already giving me enough shit so i left. i’m so sorry y/n, i wanted to explain but it was just too much, pero estoy aquí ahora.”
you didn’t say anything, so he continued. “el universo nos volvió a reunir por alguna razón, verdad?”
“yeah . . . i guess.”
“so stop those tears. y’know i hate seeing you cry, ‘breaks my heart,” he muttered, wiping a stray tear off your cheek. “do you hate me?” he whispered, and his chest filled with relief when you shook you head.
“nunca podría odiarte, connie”
connie inhaled deeply through his nose, his face moving another inch close to yours. your lips parted, but nothing came out except a weak ‘please’. he hummed, brushing his nose against yours, before softly pressing his lips to yours. it was slow, but desperate, which was expected since he’d been waiting years to do this.
what connie didn’t expect was for you to deepen the kiss. your lips parted, tongue swiping against his bottom lip in urgency. a chuckle rumbled in his chest, how cute.
he grabbed the fat of your hips and switched your positions, your back now pressed against the car. he cupped your jaw, his thumb pressing down on your chin. connie’s tongue traced over your lips before pushing into your mouth, earning a squeak from you.
“heh, te gusta eso?” with a gulp, you nodded. since when did he learn how to do that? it kinda irked you knowing some girl, that wasn’t you experienced these kinds of kisses from connie.
“get outta your head, we’re supposed to be kissing, not thinking,” he muttered against your lips, pushing his front against yours. the cogs in your head started turning when you felt something hard. was he worked up just as much as you?
connie cradled your jaw in both his hands, desperately kissing you with every fiber of his being. “c-con—”
“lo sé, cariño, lo sé. y’have no idea how much i’ve waited for this. from the moment you kissed me on the cheek ten sum years ago, i knew i didn’t wanna feel anyones lips on me, but yours.”
you whimpered. “and as much as i wanna bend you over my car, n’ take you right here, i have a friend who needs to get home safe, and so do you.” he pulled his lips away from yours, a thin line of spit connecting you. he was right, unfortunately.
“i wanna see you again . . . tomorrow, i wanna see you tomorrow. can you make that happen?” you were clutching onto him so tight, afraid he’d slip right through your fingers. connie smirked, his fingers dancing down your hips, and to the tops of your tights. he pulled the material forward before letting it snap back into place, earning a squeak from you.
“i can make that happen. should i roll us a little sum?” you shook your head, “eh, i don’t really like smoking, it makes me paranoid.” you laughed at the last part, and god, it was so nice to hear your laugh. your eyes trailed down to his lower half, then back to his eyes. with a slow bat of your eyes you said, “i like wine though . . . cuanto más dulce, mejor. do what you will with the information.”
connie’s dick twitched. “noted. very much noted, princesa.”
as happy as you were to know you’d be seeing connie again real soon, something kept crossing your mind. “um, connie?” you whispered, playing with the hem of his shirt. he noticed your eyes were avoiding his, you were nervous.
“those people, the bad ones, do you still deal with them?” it was a valid question, connie had a feeling you’d bring it up sooner or later.
“no, i don’t, i got outta that months ago. i found me a new supplier through a friend and now i sell a lil weed on side, nothing big. n’ then once i finish this apprenticeship at this tattoo shop i’m at, i’m done for good. no estaría haciendo todo esto si supiera que tu vida estaría en peligro.”
your eyes fluttered shut when he lips pressed against your forehead. he wrapped his fingers around the gold, cuban link chain around his neck, “you can still be skeptical, i don’t blame you, but just know i treasure your existence too much to play with it like that.”
“i believe you, con,” your voice was small, but connie was still able to hear. he kissed your forehead a final time, “c’mon let’s go inside, it’s cold.” your fingers laced with his, and a warmth that you’ve never felt before coursed throughout your body.
when you got back to his section of the club, you sat in the nearest open spot, your heart beating a mile a minute. after all these years wondering where you two had went wrong, you finally got a little clarity. you still had questions, but decided not to pry. as connie talked about his experience with those certain individuals, you could tell by the strain in his voice that it was a hard topic.
“by the smile on your face, i’m assuming it went well?!” your head whipped to the side to see your friend, a proud smirk on her lips. you nibbled on your lip, your eyes flicking to connie who was sitting by himself once again, blunt in hand. you would definitely call the conversation a success.
february 15th, 2024 . . .
new message from bffie ౨ৎ : i hope you like stella rose black bc that’s what i got
new message from bffie ౨ৎ : send me your addy, ima leave in 20
your stomach twisted in knots as you texted connie your address. you didn’t know what to expect from your hangout, all you knew was that there was going to be sexual tension and wine, a very dangerous combination.
with a shallow exhale, you stood up, quickly making your way over your full body mirror. you examined your outfit carefully in the mirror, it was cute, but something was missing. “ . . . i need a headband,” you muttered, scrambling to find the perfect, pink headband to complete the outfit.
before you knew it, connie was texting you that he was outside your apartment.
“momma! i’m gonna go out with connie for a while, i’ll be back soon.” you pressed a quick kiss to her forehead, and she mumbled something about how you looked like a doll.
when walked outside connie was waiting at the bottom of the stairs for you, flowers and card in hand. “lemme help you down, lord knows what’ll happen since you’re in heels,” he snickered, extending his hand out towards you.
“yeah, yeah, whatever,” you grumbled, taking his hand. you let out a tiny gasp when he pulled you close, his body pressing against yours. “mm, you look cute. i like . . . whatever this is,” he chuckled, pulling at the soft material of your jacket.” you mumbled out a thank you, your eyes drifting to the pink roses he was holding.
he held them out to you, his lips lifting into a sly smile. “i know i’m a day late, but these are for you.” the roses were the prettiest shade of pink, and the card had some cheesy pun about sushi on it. “gracias, connie. they’re beautiful.”
“you’re very welcome, amor. now c’mon, i got your seat all warmed up for ya.” he literally had the seat warmer up full blast, already knowing you were probably freezing your ass off in your skirt.
his car smelt like weed and pine scented air freshener, it was oddly comforting. “feel free to adjust the heat to your liking, it won’t take long to get there though, only like fifteen minutes.” you hummed, placing your hands neatly in your lap.
the ride was pretty silent, but you didn’t mind it because his hand was glued to your thigh the entire time. “m’not making you uncomfortable being too touchy am i?” he spoke softly, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze. you answered with a quick ‘mm mm!’ and eagerly placed both of your hands on top of his.
you were so cute, and you didn’t even know it, you were practically killing the poor guy.
“good . . . good. y’know i’ve come to realize i’m really hands-on when i want something, ‘specially if it’s a pretty girl.” your lips parted, then shut, unable to think of anything to say that wouldn’t make you sound dumb. when did he become such a flirt?
“eh, i guess it just came naturally as i got older.” connie chuckled, and you just about fell out when you realized you had in fact said that out loud. “sorry i didn’t meant to say that out loud, b-but it’s true! you keep leavin’ me flustered it’s annoying!” this had connie laughing so hard the corners of his eyes crinkled shut. “you want me to stop?”
“ . . . no.”
twenty minutes later . . .
“make yourself comfortable and—ah, don’t mind her. she loves meeting new people,” connie chuckled, patting the grey pitbull, that had started sniffing you the second you walked inside, gently on the head. you become quickly enamored with the dog, bending down and cooing at it excitedly. “what’s her name?”
“her name is kali, i got her a few months after i moved in here. she makes good company, very sweet, and very snuggly as you can see.” snuggly was indeed the correct word to use, and you were loving it. “she’s too precious, con, i’m sooo jealous,” you giggled, scratching underneath kali’s chin.
connie’s apartment was very . . . him. dark brown, leather furniture covered the living room, along with a sixty five inch tv mounted on the wall. his windows were huge, giving you a pretty view of the entire city, and along with them was a big glass door that lead to the balcony.
“this is . . wow.” your hands were clasped behind your back as you looked around, what caught your attention next the various pieces of art along the walls. “you’re into buying art?” you giggled, turning around to look back at connie, who was still by the front door. he pursed his lips, a hand coming back to scratch at the back of his neck.
“i dabble in it every now and again. shits way too expensive to have a whole collection,” he chuckled, finally making his way over to you. “which one do you like the most?”
you nibbled on your lip, taking your time to examine and admire each framed piece.
“i think i like . . . this one. the eyes look so real, it almost looks like a picture, and it looks like there’s some emotion in them, but i can’t quite pinpoint it,” you muttered, and connie hummed in agreement. he went on to explain that it was his favorite painting as well, and that it was the cheapest one of the bunch.
“this older guy was having a viewing, and barely anyone was there so he walked me through the whole exhibit. these eyes? they’re his wives, shit, everything he painted in there was of his wife. the day the viewing was held was the anniversary of her death, i thought it was kinda . . beautiful, so i bought it. only cost me fifty bucks, can you believe that?”
your jaw dropped the tiniest bit, you stepped closer the painting, taking in every little detail once again. “so i’m assuming the look in her eyes—it’s love?”
connie nodded, taking a step forward as well, he was behind you now, you could practically feel the warmth radiating off of him. “he said when he was painting this he was picturing the look she gave him on their wedding day, said he saw a spark in her eyes that day that he’d never seen before, and never saw it again. cool as hell right?” he whispered, leaning over to rest his chin on your shoulder.
“y-yeah, s’really cool,” you turned your head, your nose bumping into his, “it makes sense you’d have something like this it, uh, suits you?” connie grinned at your words, now standing up straight.
“thank you, y/n . . . you want some wine?”
you were quick to nod, your feet swiftly turning to follow him to the kitchen. he rummaged through he cabinets and pulled out two glass cups, “now i don’t have wine glasses, so these’ll have to do.”
as he poured the wine, you went ahead and made yourself comfortable on one of the bar stools at the kitchen island. your feet slowly swung back forth, and when connie slid the glass over to you, you wasted no time taking a long sip. “s’good? es lo suficientemente dulce para ti, linda niña?” he asked, leaning on the island.
you felt your cheeks get hot, recalling your comment from last night. “yes, it’s sweet enough, thank you.” you made brief eye contact with connie before looking back down at your glass, twirling it carefully in your hands.
suddenly you blurted out, “you have a lot of tattoos now.”
connie smirked, taking a sip of his own wine. “yes, yes i do. you wanna see them?” you nearly choked on your spit, breaking into a fit of coughs. see connie’s tattoos? you didn’t know if your heart, or your pussy, could handle that, especially at the rate you were drinking this wine.
connie took your silence as a yes, and before you knew it he was shedding his hoodie, leaving him in thin tank top. he was completely jacked now, the swirls of ink around his arms and chest only adding on to his attractiveness. he looked like a completely different person.
“wow, you really wasted no time taking your clothes off huh?” you giggled, raising two fingers to beckon him closer. connie kissed his teeth, he tried his absolute best to look annoyed, but he couldn’t! not when your laugh sounded like the prettiest of symphonies.
“man, whatever. now you wanna see just my arms, or do you want so see everything?” his eyebrows raised up mischievously, and you knew right then and there you were absolutely done for . . . and you were gonna need more wine. “um, i guess everything since you’re already stripping, but gimme some more wine first!”
after a topping off your wine, connie removed his tank top, revealing more inked skin. you eyes were as wide as saucers, your jaw nearly dropped to the floor. “oh my goodness, connie! didn’t this shit hurt?!” without thinking you extended your hand, you ran the tips of your fingers over his chest, shuddering at the thought of a needle piercing his tan skin all over.
connie’s breath hitched. “y-yeah, it hurt like bitch. took two sessions to finish too, but it’s hard right?” your head bobbed up and down in a mindless nod, your hand still glued to to his chest. “this one didn’t hurt too bad,” he grumbled, pulling the waistband of his sweats down slightly to reveal a tattoo that said ‘muérdeme’ right on his v-line.
“bite me . . ?” you mumbled, fingers trailing down to trace over the letters. connie let out a low hum, goosebumps rising all over his skin. “you like it?”
you blindly reached for your glass and took a small sip of the wine, you looked into his eyes while you swallowed before nodding. “i like it a lot, i love all your tattoos, s’making me a little hot actually,” you giggled, leaving connie stunned, and a little turned on. the wine was definitely giving you a little extra confidence.
he took a step towards you, and then another until your knees were touching the tops of his thighs. he didn’t lean down, no, he waited for you to tilt that pretty head up and look him right in his eyes. when you did you wanted to look right back down at the floor. he was staring at you like he wanted to eat you whole.
“should i put my shirt back on, or do you want me to keep it off?” he didn’t laugh, he give you that signature smirk, he looked more serious than you’ve ever seen him. his thumb tapped against your bottom lip, “¿me oyes, linda chica? ¿on o off?”
you let out a shaky breath, “o-off. off please.”
connie was quick to grasp underneath your thighs, and pick you up, his hands moved downwards to cup your ass for a better grip. “if you want me to stop you better tell me now,” he spoke lowly, setting you on the island. before even kissing you the first thing he did was nuzzle his face into your neck, inhaling your familiar, but now slightly different scent.
your hand gently cupped the back of his neck, “you still like me?” yes, you completely ignored what he said, but that question had been burning in your brain since the second you locked eyes with him the previous night.
he lifted his face out of your neck, now standing at his full height. “um . . . did you not see how quick i was to kiss you last night? or how quick i was to start taking off my clothes just now? c’mon, y/n, usa esa linda cabecita.”
your lips pushed into a pout, “don’t be a dick, just confirm it for me so i can have peace of mind.”
“yes, y/n, i do still like you, love in fact. i’ve only ever loved two women in my life, you and my momma, and that’s how it’ll be until i’m in my grave.”
“b-but connie, you’re only twenty four . . . don’t you think you might love another before your time comes?” he quickly shook his head, not even bothering to give your question any thought. “you and my momma. that’s it, that’s all—well, kali too, but you know what i mean,” you both laughed at the last part, but you were soon interrupted by connie smushing his lips into yours.
“mmph! w-well i have no other questions so please continue,” you panted against his lips, you shakily reached your hand down to tug him closer by the waistband of his sweats. your panties were starting to feel uncomfortably sticky, the soft cotton sticky lewdly to your folds.
connie wasted absolutely no time lifting you up once more, he mumbled something about taking you to his bedroom before making the slow, but successful journey there. his lips never once left yours, happily swallowing up every whine and moan you let slip out.
you eventually had to pull away for air, though he did not make it easy, his lips chasing yours each time you pulled away.
“i—i like your room!” your lips parted in a squeal when he dropped you on the bed, your headband flying off somewhere behind you. “not cool, eres tan molesto,” you huffed, sitting up on your elbows.
connie’s chest rumbled with a laugh, you were really too cute.
“what, you think just because i’m in love with you i won’t give you shit? estas muy equivocada, mami.” connie softly grabbed your ankles, pressing a kiss to each one before pulling you forward. “you mind if i peek up under there?” he chuckled, slowly getting on his knees.
“n-no go ahead, just . . . be nice. it’s been a minute since i’ve gotten a wax, m’goin’ for a more natural thing you know?” no, no he didn’t, but he truly didn’t care if you were bald down there or not, he was gonna eat it regardless.
his hand reached up to the button of your skirt, “i don’t care if you got a little hair down there, y/n. we’re both grown, yeah?” as he was speaking he undid the button, then the zipper. you didn’t say anything, instead you just nodded and lifted your hips up, allowing him to slip your skirt off.
connie slowly ran his hands along the insides of your thighs, his mouth watering at the sticky silhouette of your pussy. you gasped when he pulled your panties to the side, your dripping pussy on fully display for him. “dios mio . . . she’s prettier than i thought,” he mumbled, his fingers brushing over the small tufts of hair on your mound.
“constance. don’t p-pet it . . . that’s . . . w-weird . . .” your sentence trailed off into nothingness the second you felt his tongue circle around your clit. he was going soft, so soft you barely felt anything, and then he licked a fat stripe up your folds before sucking your clit into his mouth.
your elbows eventually gave up, and you flopped back on the bed with a soft thud. connie hummed against your pussy, his fingers tugging your panties to the side more to get his proper fill. when he felt your hand nearly smack on top of his head it gave him the biggest fucking ego boost.
“f-faster please,” he heard you sigh out, and he was more than happy to give you what you wanted, except your panties were starting to become a bother. “no problem, gorgeous, i just gotta—”
RIPPPPPPP
you picked your head up to see if your ears were deceiving you, and unfortunately they were not. connie had completely torn your panties in half, he tossed the garment aside like it was nothing and looked back up at you, a dopey smile on his lips. “you have absolutely no manners,” you panted out, too embarrassed to even glance at your torn, discarded panties.
he kissed the inside of your thigh, mumbling something you couldn’t decipher into the skin, probably something snarky knowing him.
“spread your legs mama, i’m gonna take my time with you—unless you have somewhere to be after this?”
you shook your head, grabbing the back of your knees to open them as wide as you could. “i texted my mom not to wait up on the way here, she’ll call if she needs me. now no more talking,” the last part came out rushed, barely audible to connie as you pushed his head between your thighs.
despite the well rounded man he had become, connie was still a little shit at heart, always teasing you even during moments like these. every time you’d moan, he’d moan just as loud, every time your hips raised the slightest he’d push them right back down, rewarding you with a nice pinch on the thigh.
he was a messy eater, not ashamed in the slightest at how sloppy he sounded, but at the same time it didn’t help that you were practically leaking like a faucet either. each time his tongue swiped over your clit another gush of wetness dribbled out of you, waiting to be lapped up by connie.
his cock throbbed in his sweats, tip drooling at the thought of you wrapped around him.
“o-oh connieee,” you gasped out, your head tilting back into the mattress. you were so wrapped up in your pleasure that you hadn’t even realized he pushed you further up the bed, making just enough room to lay between your thighs. the pressure felt sooo nice on his dick—now he could really enjoy this.
“te sientes bien, baby?” he asked, spitting on your clit, earning a shy whine from you. his hips started to rock into the bed, and with each movement it had him moaning into your pussy, the vibrations bringing you closer and closer to your peak.
you moaned out a weak yes, your hips circling around his tongue. he gave you full control now, allowing you to move your hips, and fuck his mouth as you pleased.
you nearly fell out when you suddenly felt him push a finger in, curling it almost instantly. he let you adjust at first, making sure you weren’t hurting at all before adding another finger.
shlick! shlick! shlick!
you were so close, he could feel it. you were dripping all onto the sheets, creating a creamy puddle beneath your ass, and if connie weren’t as pussydrunk as he was, he would’ve definitely teased you for it.
“i-i’m—!”
suddenly a hand wrapped around your throat and connie was towering over you, his chain dangling right over your nose. “do it, i wanna see your face when i make you cum for the first time. ven en mis dedos, princesa, déjame ver esa cara.” your eyes rolled back, hands grasping at connie’s wrist as you came a cry.
“there it is—mierda, such a pretty girl,” he groaned, slowly sliding his fingers out of your pussy. he rubbed three fingers between your folds, simply feeling you up now. “mm, i like your pussy. she’s cute n’ soft, just like you, i can’t get enough of either of ya.” your back arched into his chest when he pinched your clit, “you’re so responsive too.”
“t-thank you, can we—can we do some more?” you could spot the huge print in his sweats from a mile away, and you were just about done waiting to see what was underneath. you cupped his bulge gently, giving it a soft squeeze. “lemme see, con.”
“m’kay, baby,” he muttered, giving your lips three kisses before getting off the bed. with shaky arms you sat up, giving his lower half your full attention.
wow.
“what?”
“what?” you asked, blinking multiple times. he was looking at you like you had sprouted a second head. “you said ‘wow’ and i couldn’t decide if it was a good wow or a bad one, so i’m asking . . . duh.”
you kissed your teeth and scooted closer to the edge of bed, you couldn’t help but internally cringe at the wet sounds your pussy made as you moved. “come closer,” you whispered, moving to sit on your knees. he took two steps forward, his palms feeling clammy when you leant forward, nose nearly touching his cock.
he was hung, thick too, almost intimidatingly thick—but you were no bitch, and you liked a challenge. he let out a small breath through his nose, it sounded like a laugh. “¿crees que puedes manejar eso?” he mused, raising a thick brow. you looked at him through your lashes, “yes.”
your tongue poked out, giving his drooling tip an experimental lick. oh, you liked that.
connie’s head tilted back, his adams apple bopping with you wrapped your lips around him, your tongue caressing the underside of his cock. “d-don’t do too much, i don’t w-want to—fuck, bust in your mouth so . . . soon.” all thoughts, or any concept of one were wiped from connie’s brain when you started to suck, little droplets of drool spilling from your mouth and down his shaft. he was too far gone.
you made a noise around his cock when his hand cupped underneath your jaw, the other finding purchase on top of your head. he found a grip on your hair and slowly started to move his hips. you moaned around his dick, and relaxed your jaw, allowing him to sheath more of his cock down your throat.
“good fuckin’ throat,” he grunted, pushing your head down as low as he could get you. your hands smacked against the bed, hot tears brimming your lash line. you choked around him, and that earned you a very deep groan from connie, his head tilting forward to get a good look at you. you looked stunning with a mouthful of dick, his dick specifically.
he yanked you back by your hair, allowing you to gasp for some very much needed air. “you’re— you’re good at that *pant* so fuckin’ good at it.” he slapped his cock against your lips and cheeks, smearing any excess pre and spit on your lips and chin.
“how do you want it?”
you already had a position in mind. “f-from the side, please.”
that’s how you ended up on your side, stark naked, with connie behind you, his chest feeling scorching hot against your back. “im’a go slow at first, but after that i can’t tell you what’ll happen,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. he took your hand in his, mumbling lowly for you to hold your leg up for him.
despite being on birth control, you both decided it was best for him to still use a condom, but that logic slowly faded away when you felt his dick slip between your dewy folds, fat tip nudging against your swollen clit. “goddamn, y/n,” he groaned into your shoulder, shallowly his hips back before pushing them forward.
“t-that feels nice,” you hummed, nuzzling your face into his pillow. connie tapped his tip against your sticky clit three times before aligning himself with your entrance, “you ready, mama?” you nodded, moaning out a pathetic plea for him to hurry up.
when he finally pushed inside you both gasped. you could already feel your arm getting weak from holding your leg up, and he wasn’t even fully inside you yet. “i got you,” you grunted, putting his hand over your own.
he started slow at first, real slow, making sure that you felt every vein and ridge that he had to offer you. it didn’t take long for your pussy to adjust, and before you knew it he was giving you slow, but swift thrusts. “joder, eso está apretado,” he all but growled, his fingernails digging into the fat of your thighs.
“y—you don’t know how long i’ve waited for this, to be close like this. eres un sueño, amor.” all you could do was moan, and nod along to his praises. you wished it was possible to be even more physically closer to him than you were, but this would just have to do to.
your hips suddenly had a mind of their own, moving back to meet connie’s swift thrusts. “yeah . . fuck me back, c’mon mami.” his eyes flicked between your bodies, your hips moved back against his with so much desperation it was almost too precious.
“c’mere.” his arm slipped underneath your head, his hand snaking around your throat. he hiked your leg higher, and pulled you closer, fully sheathing his dick inside you. “o-oh!” you squeaked out, hand coming behind you to cup the back of connie’s head. he let out a pretty moan right into your ear, his tongue lolling out to lick over the shell of it.
his pace had changed drastically, he was now fucking you like he hated your guts. his strokes were quick and shallow, his pudgy tip slamming against your g-spot each time he pushed in. you couldn’t help but think how nice this would be raw . . . fuck it.
“c-connie,” you whined, patting the back of his head softly. connie’s thrusts halted, he still deep inside you, cock throbbing almost painfully at how tight you were gripping him. “what’s the matter, mi cariño?”
“off . . . i wan’ you to take the condom off, if that’s okay.” it was silent for few beats, the only thing being heard were your labored breaths. “look at me,” connie whispered, not moving an inch until your eyes were on his. he slowly pulled out, gauging your every reaction as he did so. he quick to rip and condom off, blindly tossing it in the nearby trash can by his bed, and he was even quicker to thrust inside you once more, your mouths dropping in synch. you finally got feel him, all of him.
connie resumed his brutal pace, his grip on your throat tightening the tiniest bit. “h-harder,” you choked out, resting your hand on his. he snickered, squeezing your neck roughly before releasing it, “you like that? you like getting choked by me?” you head shook furiously, a raspy ‘uh huh!’ slipping past your kiss bitten lips.
the squelching of your pussy got louder and louder, alerting connie of your oncoming orgasm. “shit, you’re about to cum—aren’t you?” his question ended with a squeeze to your neck, and that’s what triggered your second orgasm of the night. your eyes crossed and your body spasmed, your pussy was clenching around connie so tightly it almost had him cumming.
“f-fuck yeah, get that nut out, baby. feel good f’me.” connie milked your orgasm as long as he could, even going as far as pushing down on your lower tummy to make sure you got it all out.
your body trembled in his arms, and to soothe your whines he whispered praises left and right into your ear, some in english, some in spanish.
it wasn’t long before that fluttery feeling in your tummy came around again, and just like that you were all over connie, your lips smushing against his sloppily in a clash of tongue and teeth. “l-lets go again, i wan’ you on top,” you words were muffled by lips, but he understood loud and clear.
he wanted you to feel him as deep as possible, so that’s why he had you hanging halfway off the bed, your knees pushed to your ears while he beat your guts in. each clap his thighs against yours had your skin tingling, your nerves feeling as though they were on overdrive.
“ohhh f-fuck,” you sobbed out, tears free falling from your eyes. connie’s thighs were practically shaking. he’d been holding back his load for so long there was no telling when he’d lose it. “tu coño es tan bueno mami, tan tan bueno, me encanta.” his eyes zeroed in on the way your pussy struggled take his cock, your folds were all soaked n’ puffy, you looked divine.
“m-me estás follando tan bien, connie, vas a hacer que me corra otra vez!” your hand smacked against his chest, fingers nails digging harshly into the tatted skin. that had connie pulling out with a hiss, a stray spurt of cum shooting from his tip and onto your tummy.
his head dropped pathetically, chest having as if he just got done running marathon. “can’t say stuff like that, baby, y-you don’t know what you’re doin’ to me,” he grunted, pushing his hips back so his cock was laying directly between your chubby folds. he slowly pushed inside, his eyes fluttering shut at the warmth that enveloped him.
his head drooped down, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss. “we got all night, con, jus’ do it. i won’t be going anywhere, don’t worry.” you words brought him bliss, a feeling of relief washing over him when he realized you weren’t going to allow him to slip from your fingers ever again.
he rolled his hips forward, teeth clamping onto his bottom lip so hard he was sure to draw blood. his hand found its rightful place around your neck, squeezing it roughly every now and again. “that’s that fuckin’ shit, so damn wet for me, mama,” he cursed, pressing his body into yours. he was so deep now, you could practically feel him in your tummy.
the air was suddenly pushed from your windpipe when connie squeezed your neck, his hips stilling as his orgasm washed over him. he wasn’t quick enough to stop himself from finishing inside, but still he pulled out nonetheless, jerking himself off until the rest of his cum covered your pussy.
connie wiped his forehead slowly with the back of his hand, his body feeling almost completely numb. he smirked at the white substance dripping from your hole, and without even thinking he scooped some up and brought to his lips.
“ugh, connie, don’t be nasty,” you whined and shut your thighs, only for them to be forced open by connie. he swiped his fingers over pussy again, this time he was offering you some. “c’mon just a little taste, you almost begging for some before, so here,” he pushed his fingers closer to your lips. with a huff you wrapped your lips around the digit, your eyes not once leaving his.
he smiled down at you, giving your head a soft pat, “buena chica.”
sometime later . . .
after a much needed shower, and some hot tea to help your sore throat, connie had you bundled up in his bed, wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts. an episode of friends was playing quietly in the back on his tv, but you were more interested in watching the man laying next to you.
“con?” you whispered, poking his naked chest gently. his eyes slowly drifted to you, his lips lifting into a small smile. he had smoked before joining you in bed, the smell of weed still slightly attached to him. he raised a brow at you, “yes?”
“what are we?”
“y/n.”
“yes?”
“you wanna be my girlfriend?”
your lips parted then shut again, too stunned to speak. you couldn’t wrap your head around the situation at all, you went from speaking everyday, to not speaking for years, and now after just reconnecting he was asking you to his girlfriend—literally what the hell.
“yes . . . y-yes i’ll be your girlfriend connie. just stay out of that shit, i want us to be happy, lavish lifestyle or not,” you mumbled, brushing your nose again his. connie gentle stroked your jaw with his thumb, “you don’t gotta worry about me getting back into that, i got too much to lose now.” with a dreamy sigh you nuzzled into his touch, lashes fluttering shut.
that night for the first time in six-something years, connie got a full good nights rest, with you tucked by his side.
