143bwi

[143bwi]

꒰ྀི 𝒪𝒞𝐻𝒪 𝑅𝐼𝒪𝒮 ꒱ྀི

꒰ 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 . . . ꒱ 12.9kay words , black fem reader coded , strangers to friends to loverz , tutor armin :3 , some miscommunication , pining , slight flirting , sex on a yacht , oral sex [ r. + a. receiving ] , fingering , cum swallowing , dumbification , reader has a phat creamy pussie :3 , soft dom + service dom armin .

𝜗ϱ 𝓁𝓊𝓋 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 𝒻𝓇𝓂 𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓀 . . . had noooo idea dis wuz gna b dis long . . ૮꒰ ྀི . . ꒱ა . uhm . fic title inspired by dis song c: Minors + Ageless Blogs Do Not Touch ! ! ! ! !

life has a funny way of pissing you off, you think.

of pissing you the fuck off, actually.

if it isn’t one thing, it’s another. in spite of you ultimately  managing to find a balance between your social, academic, and family roles, after having attended winsome university for almost three years mind you; the beginning of your junior year, and first statistics lecture, all it really takes is ten seconds, ten for you to realize that all the work you have spent fighting to find an equilibrium between those three mantles is now swirled down the drain.

because within those initial, mere ten seconds, your professor introduces herself, guides you all to click on the link of a syllabus decreed almost mockingly near the top of your incoming emails, and what you see on the first page of the, admittedly sublimely, organized opening page is, ‘ exams — 75% of your grade. ‘

“i’m so screwed.”

your professor’s name is ida sullivan. her ratemyprofessor’s rating sits at a decent 3.5 / 5, 62% of the general population of students would take her course again, and her level of difficulty is a solid 4.0.

from this, you declare your own score by comparing yourself to the rest of winsome university’s students — a 3.5, round that up to a 3.8 . . and the difficulty level, a hard 4.4. while you were clearly intelligent enough to be accepted into the university ( acceptance rate is a cruel 8%, categorizing it as one of the most competitive ivy leagues in the country ), you are painfully aware that when compared to majority of your peers, you sit at a very low rank. what are subjects that took you half a lesson to grasp in high school, now takes you nearly three in college. disparate to others, you have to fit in an extra day to study before a quiz or exam, all in efforts to get a grade just near theirs.

it’s discouraging.

walking the campus’ quad, through the hallways, bypassing buildings that a multitude of your friends’ mothers, fathers, and grandparents threw thousands of dollars into every year — each day you open your eyes, you’re hit with a sense of . . dread. no true sense of belonging.

“what’s wrong?”

a month later, after having been struggling with statistical concepts for twenty two long, extremely winded days, it’s a friday.

disregarding your school being named a ‘ bottomless pit of big brained knowitalls ‘ within a world-known news outlet article, your football team wasn’t half bad. mikasa enjoys going and dragging you along because ymir’s there, you let her to escape the four, ghoulish gray walls of your dorm who seem to be trying to speak to you after spending six hours at a desk going over the same fifteen note cards.

after the game, the rest of your group of friends find you — eren, pieck, reiner, ymir, and historia — and sometimes, usually after a win, you all pile up into reiner’s pick up and head to his.

a high rise condominium that over looks the bustling life of the city, completed with high windows showcasing a panoramic, three sixty view of it all. you love reiner’s apartment because, while clearly a token of affluence and grandeur, it’s also lived in. there are frames of family photos hung along the walls in the foyer, pictures of scruffy art drawn in vivid crayolas and pastels made by his baby brother pinned to the fridge, a guest room dedicated just to him when he visits. it’s precious.

“ ‘m gonna fail my stats course,” you whimper into the palm of your hands when you’re all seated upon the balcony, reposed along the propane firepit. “ ‘ve aced the syllabus and first two lesson quizzes but there’s an exam coming up in a week and i’m,” you recognize it — the choke, that mass of your throat closing as it tries to somehow work in more oxygen come the influx of tears. “m-my gpa’s gonna drop — i don’t wanna go on academic p—“

“—chill, hey.”

“no, don’t cry.”

as annoying as they can be, all of your friends are ultimately good people. there’s a soothing rubbing on your back, a comforting hand on your shoulder, hair ruffle from no doubt reiner, and a big squeeze of a hug from eren. “stats?” historia’s questioning with a darling head tilt. “hmm . . — have you tried—“

“—‘ve tried everything.”

you’re falling back against the cushioned bench where you sit, crossing your legs atop of one another and dabbing the few pearls of tears that’ve glided themselves across your cheeks with the small pads of your fingers. “different note taking, studying methods, ‘m like . . burnt out.”

reiner takes a thick quaff of the beer he holds within one rough paw, eyes glancing up towards the glittering pellets of stars for a moment — as if they held an answer prior to lifting a shoulder, letting it drop, then retorting, “get a tutor.”

voices are overlapping before your response.

“oh, shit. yeah,” eren’s smiling — that boyishly handsome smile that achieves in placing all of his aligned, white teeth on display. “yeah. i had to get one when i took quantum physics.”

a tutor.

you have never needed a tutor. you don’t think you want a tutor. in a way, you suppose that it all kind of, cements it all — that you need help. that you aren’t as smart as you’d thought.

you want to simply mold yourself inside of the linen — ingrain your body within the weaving and take your stupid brain with you. “. . a tutor?”

slipping a cig from the inside of his pocket, eren places it between his lips in advance to leaning his face dangerously close to the fluttering flames of orange and gold and lighting it. mumbling around the stick, “yeah. i know a few people who do it for letters of recommendations from professors,” he inhales, holds it, and through a strained breath, concludes, “others, just because.”

“who’s the best?” you inquire. might as well. “like, in stats.”

“. . uh,” eyebrows furrow, green eyes lift. “. . connie?”

“no,” ymir rolls hers. “connie’s good for like, english lit and shit. he’s very articulate. go with armin — he’s a fucking genius in everything. especially math.”

armin.

the name sparks something — enters your ears, squeezes past your brain, and knocks along the walls of it. “armin uhm,” you nibble on your bottom lip, mind churning to remember a surname. “a-arlert? he’s blond?”

with the confirmation, you’re suddenly reminded of a familiar blond that sits within your lectures, always in the front row, far to the left.

“please be reminded that you do not only have me to come to for any questions, but also my ta, armin here,” first day of class, professor sullivan had gave a small chin raise his way. “he will not steer you wrong — top student currently here at the university, please take advantage.”

mikasa seems to perk up come the mention of a clearly familiar name, “oh god, yeah. armin’s so nice. yeah, ask him.”

you’d thought with their encouragements that you’d be able to actualize tough enough skin to walk up to the guy, ask for some help, and get it over with — nonetheless, at the end of the day, you’re just a girl with an insane amount of pride. you don’t need tutoring. you’ll be okay.

commence your exam grade being returned back to you — 68 / 100.

it’s a tuesday when you finally generate the guts. thankfully, you aren’t the only one who has questions for armin. there are two students ahead of you — a guy you recognize by the name of hayden, campus’ running back on the football team, and a girl, grace. hayden asks him a simple question, something about what’s going to be the main topic on the next exam and if it’ll be as long as the previous. come him stepping away, you see the shift in grace ahead of you.

she comes to a stop in front of his desk, and after placing her exam down upon it, inclines toward him with a small lean to gently question, “on question eight — uhm, i guess i’m just . . a little confused. can you tell me where i went wrong at?”

you come to realize that armin’s voice is gentle. there’s the occasional sound of a deep tenor when he says ‘did’ and ‘some,’ words with short vowels, however, he’s mostly quiet. you can’t really hear, nor see him, only grace. she gives an occasional nod, a quiet, long, drawn out ‘ ohhh ‘ and eventually, a small giggle when the conversation is apparently over. “okay, great. thanks. i’ll see you on thursday then.”

“same here.”

upon her exiting, and you replacing her spot at his desk, seemingly, about a feet on either side of him — there’s the scent of citron and ambertonic. you wouldn’t say there’s a cloud of it surrounding him, because in a case like that, you doubt you’d be able to breathe, nonetheless, it’s definitely there. it teeters a line of an aromatic wood; reminds you of those gossamery salt tinged breezes you feel at the beach, and you suppose, come being in his line of sight for the first time, that armin’s cologne . . suits him.

he’s . . handsome. he’s attractive. he’s . . . pretty — in a kind of . . all american, golden boy way.

tawny blond hair sits atop of his head in tufts, falling near midway of his ears with a, presumably, natural part in the middle. it’s a bit darker at the roots, a kind of light brown, however it’s natural, you can tell. he doesn’t dye. his skin tone is a bit on the lighter side — there’s a blush tinged along his knuckles and the tips of his ears. it’s autumn, nearing winter, that’s to be expected, albeit still, there resides a sort of . . flaxen glow within the undertone. he tans well in the summer, you can tell.

his eyebrows match his roots, they’re admittedly well groomed. thin framed, gold matte, polygon framed glasses shield long eyelashes — and those border pools of beautiful, ocean blue. they catch you immediately, your eyes feel pinned to them due to the fact . . they aren’t necessarily an unsettling shade of blue — they teeter the shade of . . ultramarine? there are peppers of baby blue near his pupils, but, they’re . . pretty. the type of blue found only in jewels buried within the ocean floors of fiji and moorea.

“hey.” he gives a small smile, it’s polite, warm.

“hi,” you rub your lips together, quickly averting your eyes downwards — they find the chain he wears . . a simple curb chain, made of silver? white gold, maybe? it stands out against the starking white hoodie he wears, looks to be bleached by the gods. “uhm, i’m ( ❤︎ ). i heard that . . you tutor?”

he’s closing a binder, his laptop, and standing while you talk.

oh.

okay, he’s taller than you thought. for so many days, you’ve only seen him from afar, never thought he looked any taller than six feet at most, albeit, up close, he graces the line of at least six three. “oh, uh, yeah. did you fail the exam?” his eyes are . . concerned. he packs his backpack slowly, a plain, black moncler, wow, all while keeping his attention on you.

you want to wince at that word. fail. you’re close to doing so. you know it. “uh,” you hesitate, finding interest in your nail when it finds a divot in the desk beside your thigh. “i got a D.”

he doesn’t flinch away or give a sympathetic coo, only a quiet, “huh,” underneath his breath. “okay, sure, yeah,” he swings his bag over a single shoulder and pockets his phone within the one of his hoodie. “i’ll tutor you. we can start . . tomorrow? at the library? around,” he looks up, rolls those pretty, blue eyes skywards towards the high ceilings of the classroom and clicks his tongue against the fine porcelain of his teeth. “four?”

you feel relieved. your shoulders fall forwards as you both begin the trek towards the door. “yes. thank you,” oddly, you feel as though you want to cry. “i appreciate it.”

“no worries,” another warm smile, then a large hand is held up as a goodbye. “i’ll see you tomorrow then.”

wednesdays are always kind of a busy day for you. you have your microbiology lecture at ten am, and come it ending at twelve thirty, anthropology begins at one. there’s little to no time to go back to your dorm and change in preparedness for your first tutoring session because by three fifty eight, after leaving your lecture and stopping near the dining hall for a quick meal, you realize that you’re going to be late.

winsome university’s library sits on its own acre of land across the campus. it’s labeled something akin to the state’s pride and joy — was built by the founder of it and all. half of the money donated towards the school is to upkeep the library and add improvements when necessary.

admittedly, the building is gorgeous. rustic and sylvan-like — the inside of the five story high structure houses eighty thousand books, an entire level of study rooms, and two computer labs. you have only ever been a few times — twice with mikasa, once by yourself. within a distant part of your mind, you wonder why. it’s a pretty place, a quiet place. you adore it — think it’ll act as a nice change of scenery when studying. upon first entry, there’s a hushed stillness settled over the interior, save for the occasional low murmur and cough. the wicker platform of your sandals click against the buffed chateau flooring as you slowly walk, head on swivel, searching for a familiar mop of blond hair.

amidst finding him, huddled in his own, little corner on the second floor, at a desk between a shelf of autobiographies, you tap your fingers upon the wood to alert him of your arrival.

he looks up at you while pulling an airpod from his ear, giving a sort of quick scan of your face in efforts to recognize you prior to smiling, “hey,” he quietly murmurs. collecting a few books and folders that are scattered along the surface of the desk, armin soon closes and gathers them in a stack beside his expanded macbook to make room for your backpack and ipad. “sorry. i realized when i got here that . . i didn’t tell you where to meet me.”

you shake your head, “it’s okay. i found you.”

when you take a seat adjacent from him, you find yourself reimmersed within the intimate, salt tinged breeze of his cologne again. it drains your brain a little empty. “uhm,” when your ipad is opened onto a blank doc, pencil in hand, you look at him. “i . . dunno . . even where to begin.”

taking hold of the top and bottom of his frames with one hand, armin pushes his glasses a bit higher up on his nosebridge, “shit, yeah, well,” he licks his lips. “she’s started on chapter three right? frequency distributions? you . . do you get that part?”

you pause on your rejoinder. your automatic response is ‘yes,’ be that as it may, you’d only lie. big and blue, his eyes are expectant, though they don’t judge. when you quietly shake your head, he doesn’t sigh or suck his teeth, only nods and opens a notebook to a fresh page to begin to sketch a few things. “well,” he utters. “statistics’ just . . all about data, right? uhm, collecting it, reading it, drawing conclusions from it. a lot of it is taught so that we’ll have the proper methods on how to conduct research and employ the correct analyses. what do you major in?”

“pharmacology,” you reply, thumbing with the silicone nub of your pencil. “minor in ethics.”

beneath his glasses, still writing, he looks up at you, “hm,” he mumbles. “mkay,” armin looks back down. “interesting.”

his reaction . . is unreadable. it stumps you. “what do you major in?”

“petroleum engineering with a minor in communications and a foreign language.”

wow.

blinking, you quietly hum, “you must make your parents really proud.”

he scoffs a bit . . then he smiles. it’s a big grin — the biggest you’ve ever seen. it pushes charming dimples into his cheeks an inch away from deep smile lines. “ah,” he chuckles. “you’ve no idea. but,” insert a shrug, a blasé one. it says ‘eh, what can you do?’ “thankfully, i actually do love the subject, so . . can’t feel too bad for myself.”

with the intention of only warming your brain up, armin introduces a practice question to you.

‘ Data from a sample of 10 pharmacies are used to examine the relation between prescription sales volume and percentage of prescription ingredients purchased directly from the supplier. The sample data are shown below. ‘

“starting off simple, i want you to find the mean of the sales volume.”

easy enough, you think. you can do that.

as you work, the table falls quiet. armin watches you, moreso, your fingers — he needs to make sure you’re following the correct procedure. or at least, he’s supposed to. you’re distracting him. your handwriting is quite lovely as you scribble along the doc of your ipad and his eyes linger on how you hold the pencil — nails are layered with acrylic . . long and square. they’re nude based with pastel designs and pretty, gold charms. he trails them up your wrist wear a few bangles sway from, to your shoulder, your neck . . .

hm.

. . you’re actually quite pretty.

you’re very fucking pretty.

“like that?”

your eyes are wide, when they look up into his — oases of mahogany. you’re standing on pins and needles, aching for his approval.

“can i see?” armin turns the pad his way and double checks your work. “. . yeah,” gently, he begins to nod. “yeah. good work. now, do the same for the ingredients purchased directly.”

complying, from then on, step by step, he instructs you on how to properly plot the residuals. he gives you another question after that, and another, and then two more. by six o’clock, you find yourself heavy eyed. the library closes at seven. warm, dim lights are now illuminated throughout the aisles and the green visored lamp that sits upon the desk you both work scrawled atop of had been lighted by armin almost an hour ago. “thank you,” you’re softly saying as you pack your bag. you feel a little more confident in your skills — not completely A+ worthy, nonetheless, some progress was made. “i understand like, half of chapter two now.”

he’s simpering while packing his own bag, “nice. cool. you’re really not that bad at it. i think you make it harder when you double back on things just because they don’t seem right — most of the time they are.”

he’s correct. you’re just not sure of how to resolve that fickle way of thinking. “thank you, armin.”

when you’re both outside, you find yourselves cloaked within the darkness, a moon, and her millions of children. under silver rays armin’s hair lightens to platinum. you take a look at him again while he has his phone pulled in close to his face, shooting a text to someone.

he’s disgustingly handsome.

how haven’t you noticed him before?

“do you need a ride home?” he points in the vague direction of two cars — a simple, grey honda civic beside a metallic blue bmw i5. no need to wonder which is his.

you gather enough willpower to take a step back, towards the direction you came. “oh . . no,” you shake your head and your island twists move along with it. “i live on campus. it’s not a far walk.”

he looks past you, in the direction of the university’s main grounds. you’d have to walk along the twisted, lengthy pathway between here and there to get to it, past the main, lecture halls, and the dining hall, to enter the dorm buildings. his eyes squint a bit, eyebrows gather in close, and lip curls as he sucks his teeth — it’s a cute face. “that’s a long walk . . at least twenty minutes.”

“i need to get my steps in.”

“it’s cold.”

“i have a sweater.”

arminfinds himself at a loss, you have him absolutely stuck. he wants to be demanding — say something like, ‘( ❤︎ ), just get in the car,’ however, when regarding the state of the world today, he’s aware of what he’d look like. he would never. he wants you to feel and know that you have a choice, in everything. albeit, in spite of this, his mother raised a gentleman. he isn’t going to feel right, driving home, knowing you’re out here walking alone. “mm.”

you read the obvious frustration slathered across the soft slopes of his face. it’s an interesting thing — to see features like his harden and inure.

“hm,” you turn your head over your shoulder to gauge the distance once more. it is a long walk. “i think . .” a step back towards his way. “i’ll jus’ go ahead and take the ride, actually.”

he leads you towards his car, using a keyless remote to open the doors with a small ‘ beep! ‘ he’s smiling, you realize, a small thing paired with a head shake as he opens the passenger door, allowing you to slip in against cool, leather seating.

you have tutoring sessions at the library with armin twice a week — early evenings on wednesdays and late mornings on fridays. he’s helpful, he’s kind. with his methods, you pass your next exam with a lustrous B+, and for the first time in a long time, your pending future doesn’t loom over your head bordered by an infernal grey cloud full of disappointment and failures.

there isn’t a word to really describe how the two of you interact during the sessions — it’s all very . . formal. he demonstrates a math problem — muttering quiet and slow, and attentively, you listen. on more lazy days, days where your mind is churning just a bit more idle than normal, still traced with the sluggish residues of sleep, you like to admire him. today’s one of those days — because armin’s charming, he smells good, and upon a few accidental grazes, you’ve come to find that his skin is as soft as it looks, too.

“so,” he’s different today. behind his glasses, rings of mauve underline the skin beneath his eye sockets. his chin is rested within the divot of his palm and, almost idly, a finger traces the shape of his lips as he mumbles, “you gotta remember this formula — memorize it for me. the probability of success equals,” his voice breaks off in a yawn. he turns his head away, using a fist to cover it as he does.

you can’t help but yawn too.

“shit, sorry,” he smiles, sniffs, and shakes his head quickly as if to shake the drowsiness off. “uh . . the probability—“

“—n equals the number of trials. r is the number of successes during the trial. and p is the probability . . of success on a given trial.”

his eyes twinkle something akin to delight when he looks at you, “good,” he whispers. “very good.”

unable to help it, you let your upper body fall and with it, your head follows until it plops onto your folded arms, “ ‘m sleepy, armin,” you tenderly say. you’re hoping that this session could be cut short. you’ll see him again on wednesday. the two of you can cram some of this lesson into it to fall back on track. “i need a nap.”

“you need to learn this, though,” he’s tracing his lips again, absentmindedly. you wish he’d stop. “it’s gonna take us a while to get back on course.”

“but ‘m tired.”

“so?”

“you look tired, too.”

“don’t be a hellion.”

you’re giggling before you can help it, covering your bright smile with a couple fingers, “. . a what?”

he’s smirking and shaking his head, eyes focused out towards the large, arch shaped, stained glass window ahead of you both, “a . . minx. pirralho,” his smirk widens into a grin. “a brat.”

you bristle with taken ignominy. “ ‘m not,” your voice doesn’t display your true emotions. it’s quiet, a mere grumble. “i’m not a brat.”

he closes a text book with a firm thump, “wanna go grab a coffee?” he’s already shoving binders into his pack. “there’s a uh . . cafe a few blocks down. they’re really good.”

oddly, your heart skips a beat . . and in that same moment, you feel its speed pick up. you’re lifting yourself up slowly, “a coffee?”

“yeah,” he’s waiting for you. “c’mon.”

the cozy kettle is a little hole in the wall a mile out from the university. it’s sweetly nuzzled between a thrift shop and record store and upon first glance, nothing stands out to you. there’s a sign outside of it and written in pastel colored chalk on it are the specials, however, that’s about it. it’s sort of a shame though, because the interior is unlike anything you’ve ever seen before.

similar to how it looks from outside, it’s small, nonetheless welcoming, pleasant. there’s the smell of roasted cocoa beans and marshmallows, the sound of mellow piano keys and boiling water. the decor is homely. there are cushioned seats, a sofa, framed photos of customers, and precious, porcelain figurines. strangely, you want to cry again. you adore places like these. you can see why armin gravitated towards it.

he fits right in with his cream, cable knit sweater, tattered blue jeans, and warm, blond hair. “hey dré,” he greets the cashier by name and looks towards you first. “need a second?”

the menu is . . extensive. your eyes tremble, darting from left to right while you try to figure out what you wanted. “uhmm . . n-no, uh, just a dalgona coffee.” you’ve always wanted to try one.

he’s humming, leaning towards you on the tips of his toes, “that’s it?” he asks softly, eyes low yet inquiring. “are you sure?”

you give a nod, he squints them prior to turning back towards the register, “large dalgona coffee, please, with a large strawberry matcha latte, honey cruller, and strawberry cruller.”

after your order is taken, armin pays, and leads you up a short, spiral staircase whose landing opens into a small dining area. it overlooks the lower half of the cafe. “this is so . .” you try to find the words as you both take a seat within a little nook. it’s a plush bench, inserted within a window. you can see the busy avenue ahead and his car parked in front. “cute.”

his irises glimmer with mirth, “yeah,” he nods and takes a quick look around himself — as if he were trying to view it from your perspective. “it is very cute. i found this place a couple months back, it’s quaint.”

“mhmm.”

with a new bout of silence, you find yourself nervously picking at a loose thread of your thermal tights. other than the occasional ride back to your dorm, and of course, the ride here, armin and you are hardly ever . . truly alone. there are always other students around you both, other professors, other distractions. you have nothing to do but gaze out of the window. you don’t want to touch your phone, ‘cause that’d be rude, right? yeah.

“uhm,” armin speaks up and you’re hooked on his words, instantly, giving him your undivided attention. “so, is stats the only class you need help in?”

you pause for a moment to think about the question, “. . kind of, yeah. i mean, ‘m taking microbiology, anthropology, and an elective, too — ceramics. they’re challenging however, i get the gist of them,” abstractly, you find yourself twisting a curl that’d been threaded into one of your island twists around one of your fingers. “stats is . . . yeah,” you breathe out with a small smile. “the only class so far where i really struggle.”

armin listens to you. his eyes are pinned on yours and refuse to move anywhere else, despite you breaking the contact multiple times to look down or away.

“well,” he has his hands resting against his knees, and he sits . . comfortably — back against the window, legs agape.  “as i said before, you’re getting pretty good at it.”

“ ‘m not a natural at it,” the thought makes you pout a little bit. “not like you.”

he smiles again. you feel your palms getting a little sweaty. “nah, nah,” he shakes his head. “not a natural.”

you roll your eyes, “don’t be coy, armin.”

he’s quiet, “. . . alright. maybe.”

when you release a small groan, he laughs — it’s a boyish thing. he inhales hard between each cute cackle.

“you’re so smart,” you hum with a small smile, looking back out towards the street. “i wish it was natural for me. i have to study, like . . all day, everyday. it’s so tiring.”

“hm, you’re intelligent, ( ❤︎ ).”

when you make a face — lift your eyebrows and purse your lips, it says ‘ yeah, right. ‘ armin nudges at your knee so you’d look at him when he says, “you are.”

you don’t agree, nonetheless, you won’t disagree with him. crossing a leg over the other, another silence ensues. if you decide to be honest with yourself, they’re painful. you kind of ache . . . to know more about him, to listen to him speak again, and laugh, and smile at you. “you don’t live on campus?”

he shakes his head, the soft tufts of his hair follow with him, “no. i have a loft, about . . ten minutes away.”

“oh.”

“yeah,” armin turns himself more toward you. “so, uh, tell me . . about your parents. are they cool?”

armin listens to you while you talk, he does, really. however, he can’t be too sure that he actually retains a lot of what you say because his mind is fucking . . fogged. it’s clouded with you. he quietly admires the softness of your brown skin, the way the long wispies of your eyelashes flutter as you blink a few times, trying to remember things, how your lips pout out sometimes around certain words — you’re a fucking enigma.

a paradox difficult for him to figure out.

or maybe, you just tangle his feelings and thoughts together and — that doesn’t happen much. it’s a skill he’s mastered a long time ago with the help of his father, to never let his emotions get in the way of doing things that had to be done, disregarding the person or situation.

armin’s been sure that it’s simple attraction. it’s dwelled and has started eating at him since your second session together. and he’s thought of people as pretty before. he’s wine and dined before, has fucked only three girls in his lifetime so far, albeit, none of them have ever sparked the sentiments he’s been inwardly battling for nearly a month now, except for you.

he thinks now that this is . . a crush. he isn’t sure if he likes it. it’s too much. he feels too much, thinks too much.

“what about you?” he’s tuning back in when you give him a polite smile. “are your parents cool?”

“oh . .” he shrugs. “yeah. they’re nice. they’re . . old.”

“they’re old?” you’re giggling again.

he smiles. he likes the sound of it. “yeah, m’dad is like . . fifty eight. mom’s fifty five. they’ve been together for thirty five years now. was an arranged marriage type deal but, they actually liked one another.”

“do you have siblings?”

armin shakes his head, “no, ‘s jus me. i have dogs though,” he’s states. “had them since middle school.”

a barista is setting your drinks and crullers down on the small table in front of you soon after. they all appear so tempting. you and armin give your thanks and as you take a teaspoon of the coffee froth toppled atop of your own drink, you take a look at armin’s.

there’s pink near the bottom of his glass cup and it fades into a sweet gradient of green from nearly half of it on up. “here,” after he takes a sip, he pushes his glasses up higher upon his nose and brings the plate of crullers closer between you both. “have you ever tried one?”

you nod slowly, “years ago though.”

the crullers are both golden brown. the honey cruller is glazed with syrup and dusted with powdered sugar, however the strawberry one is more of a pastry. there are two of them stacked on top of one another with whipped cream layered in the middle. “ ‘ll just . .” armin takes a butter knife, and carefully, he cuts the first one in half, followed by the strawberry. “there you go.”

you watch, amazed, how he pops his half of the honey cruller inside of his mouth and begins to slowly chew.

by no means was it a little piece, both desserts are about the size of his own fist. “y’just gotta . .” he’s smirking while he chomps. “go for it. tastes even better that way.”

you try to do what he does — only fit half of it inside and sticky sugar smears along the corner of your lips. unleashing a small sound of disappointment, you take a napkin to dab it away.

“ ‘s good, no?”

“it’s yummy.” it is. the texture’s heavenly.

you notice that he eats the strawberry cruller more slowly — bites half of it, lazily chews, swallows, then finishes it. marveling the tincture of his drink again, you soon sweetly denote, “you like strawberries.”

there’s the pink of his tongue, swift, it peeks past his lips so that he’s able to rid them of specks of sugar. “hm? you can tell?” he's chewing on the inside of his cheek — the motion of it causes the dimple in his cheek facing you to play peek a boo. “yeah, they’re m’favorite fruit. an uh,” he huffs a small laugh here and thumbs with his glass. “a family friend, she owns a strawberry farm. i go there every spring . . she lets me pick like, a freaking boatload of ‘em. i ship ‘em here to m’loft.”

“yeah?” you’re simpering. you try to picture it — a more tanned armin, crouched and picking through bushes for the most plump, most ripe berry with sweat beads dotted along the margin of his forehead. “that sounds so nice.”

“it is. you should come this spring.”

unheedingly, your spine straightens. ‘ this spring. ‘ the sun, the greenery, a strawberry farm, armin in tees and short sleeved garments. your cheeks swelter, your heart blooms. “uhm,” you revert your attention back outside of the window. you hope your smile isn’t too wide. “yeah. that’d be swell.”

you don’t really know how it happens.

armin remains your tutor for the rest of the semester. four days and nearly eight hours a week spent around one another — it is no secret to yourself that what little attraction you’d felt towards the boy at the start evolves into something more . . a feeling more ample and vast than you could have ever imagined. on friday afternoons, after your tutoring lesson is over, you both frequent the cozy kettle. you order your dalgona coffee, he grabs his strawberry matcha latte — contrarily, never the same pastries. there are the yummy macarons, iced with little faces of bear cubs in buttercream, moist banana breads, and sweet strawberry tarts. and over these delicacies, what are seconds spiral into minutes, and what are minutes, hours. you immerse yourself within a boy — a sweet boy. you learn about his favorite color ( cornflower blue ), his favorite foods ( creamy tomato prawn pasta and smoked salmon sandwiches, toasted bread preferably ), what his hobbies are ( chess, painting, and . . wood carving ?! ) , what he enjoys doing when not focused on his schooling ( sleep, taking walks within the city ).

armin arlert is beautiful, you discover. he’s beautiful inside and out, starting from the few, dark moles that pepper the back and sides of his neck to the childhood scar that runs vertically across the top of his right foot ( showed you one day while you both sat on the sun warmed grass of the quad . . learned a lesson to not run with scissors after that anymore ). he interweaves himself within your life until he’s nearly all you think about, every single day.

your friends notice. they’d all explained that they knew armin from way back — the group of them attended the same high school, therefore, it was no question as to how they were aware just how far his intelligence ran and why they recommended him to you as a tutor, all’d shared a class with him at one point. nonetheless, come college, armin’d gravitated and became more close with connie and jean. and while he wasn’t as tight with the others as you were, it didn’t stop the rest from light teasing. never in front of him, only towards you.

you’d never felt your face so warm. “it’s cute,” mikasa had smirked at you one night while giving a slight nudge toward your shoulder with her own. “it . . works. can’t say ‘m too surprised.”

then january came — a new semester, new classes.

you aced your statistics course and what few classes you needed left to receive your degree were all quite simple. near the beginning, four meet ups with armin a week dwindled into three, and then two. you were busy with classes. he was busy with his thesis — it made sense. however, what became a week of not seeing one another, soon progressed into two without even texting one another. you don’t know how it happened, really, however, by april, you and him were basically . . . strangers once more.

it hurt. if you decide to be honest with yourself, it still hurts. you barely see him around campus, he’s hardly ever in the library anymore, and during, admittedly, desperate attempts to run into him at the cozy kettle you’re never successful because, according to dre, ‘ you just missed him ‘ or ‘ he hasn’t stopped by in a while. ‘

blond hair now sends a frigid chill down your spine. you smell a familiar cologne and the disconcerting sting of viscid tears boil the surface of your eyes. you wished you were able to just . . forget. redact his name from the fissures of your mind and bowdlerize the feeling his name evokes when you hear it from inside of your heart.

and mikasa knows you best. she knows you better than anybody, at times, even yourself.

you need to escape the prison of your dorm, go out, socialize, hopefully find a new person, even if just temporarily, to occupy your time and mind. and you agree. why not? jean has some yacht party he’s throwing. a farewell before spring break and, you like jean. he’s polite, he’s funny, he’s kind. you’re aware of what this can entail, however — jean being one of armin’s closest friends and all, there’s a high chance he could be attending and you think it’s this simple regard that has you tunneling yourself within the furthest pits of your closest to produce your most shortest and skimpiest two piece set.

berry blue, the top is to only be held up by a thin string tied at the back of your neck and another around the mid section of your back. the neckline follows more of a cowl style, however, cinches tight in the middle, accentuating your tits. the flowy excess fabric of the skirt skims the tops of your thighs, inches above your knees. it’s . . a lot. it’s . . just what you need.

everyone on the yacht appears to follow your lead, because you end up not being the only one to go for something so flimsy.

the ship pushes off from the dock when the sun is hung high within the sky — it’s thronged with people, lots you recognize from your classes, from bow to stern. on the upper deck are four, bass boosted, five foot surround sound speaker towers. they stand beside the dj who shouts at the crowd below on a mic. “this is fucking insane,” mikasa’s giggling behind a meticulously manicured hand. the two of you stand beside the main deck aft’s bar. she nurses a pink tinted drink within the other, however you can’t find the energy to remember the name. your eyes are shifting, from here to there, in search for one, tall, blue eyed, dimple cheeked, horribly handsome boy. “i think jean fuckin’ outdid himself with this one.”

“well,” you reach for her hand to bring her drink closer between you two. lowering your head, you wrap your lips around a thin, black straw and take a long sip. sweet, tart, bitter. “he’s graduating next month. might as well.”

“mmm, where have you been?” there are arms being draped along your shoulders before you can as much as so blink — heavy ones, buff ones. you have to feel a small smooch on your temple and the scruff of a beard to know who it is.

“reiner,” you whine and push back against him to let his arms fall. “my hair.”

with reiner comes eren, ymir, and historia.

the blond in front of you is shirtless. he wears nothing but black swim trunks, printed with a designer’s name all over in abstract. “i apologize,” he’s smirking and reaching a hand out to help you fix a curl out of place, albeit, is not surprised to get a quick swat on the knuckles within the same second of doing so. “got excited. haven’t seen you in like, three weeks, no?”

maybe you were more depressed than you’d thought. “i know,” involuntarily, you’re pouting. you’ve missed him too, you’ve missed them all. “been busy . . studying for finals and stuff.”

“mhm. been okay, right?” he’s concerned, tilting his head, waiting until you give him a sweet nod. “okay, good. need to make sure. you know my parents have been asking about you.”

you’re brightening up come the mention of them — how sweet the brauns are, you can’t help but smile. “really? what they say?”

“want you and everyone over for dinner again, especially you,” the golds of his eyes are slyly rolling. “some . . - something about your major. they like learning about it, hearing you talk about it. i don’t fuckin’ know.”

once the opportunity reveals itself, you’re pushing at one, tough, broad shoulder, “ugh, jealous much?” the brauns are sweet. his mother bakes the sweetest pumpkin pies and his dad is entertaining — has a thousand stories about his younger days working in the mines. you wouldn’t mind another dinner with them, not at all.

reiner entertains you for the time being, “mm, you can’t imagine how much.”

it’s nearly ten minutes of you chatting with reiner before you feel it — it’s a subconscious thing at first. there’s the sensation of a bug crawling across your shoulder. it startles you, nonetheless, without breaking eye contact with reiner, you quickly reach and rub it away. but, there it is again, this time, on your neck. you swat at it irritably, glossed lips pulling downwards into a frown. by the third time, you’re flinching and huffing, swiftly turning on your heels and holding your hair to one side to grant him a more extensive view, “can you check if there’s a bug on me, please?”

while reiner’s humming, eyes scanning your back, you look up, catching the familiar blues of someone’s across the ship.

unwittingly, your body pulls taut.

you’d wanted to see him first before he saw you, gather some conviction, some tenacity, be that as it may, it’s clear he’s been watching you for a while.

his eyes don’t hold the same kindliness as they once did. while they used to remind you of sweltering summers spent in palau, of fine sapphires and calm seas — from nearly forty feet away, you can view the hidden lividity that dances within them. calm seas are now raging waters. sapphires roast within an inferno. they’re set on you, unmoving, even while the bodies between you both shift and sway this way and that, he remains where he is. nevertheless of connie saying something to him, leaned in close to his ear so that he can hear, armin’s clearly not listening.

you snap your eyes away quickly.

turning back to reiner, you await for him to give you an all good before you’re slipping away, from everyone, and everything. you head to the bow of the boat. you’re pleading with the stars, begging for them to not have him follow you — you need to breathe for a moment, replay that meager interaction back a dozen times in your brain to dissect and figure out what’d just transpired. but, it’s clear the universe is out for blood today. you hear footsteps, they’re steady, firm — they make you walk faster.

there’s a teeth suck, an annoyed sigh.

he doesn’t say anything though, not until you’re both alone, at the front of the boat . . away from brain rattling music, loud laughter, loud splashes, and squeals. you take a seat within the sunken area meant for accommodation — arms folded, back straightened, you refuse to look at him.

armin plops himself down nearly three seats away from you and through your peripheral, you watch his head tilt back as he downs the rest of his drink. it falls back forward as he swallows and places the glass down on the floor between his feet. your knee is bouncing — you hadn’t even realized.

“i don’t . .” his voice is low, quiet. you try not to react to it — try so hard not to melt within his lap and sob. “i don’t think i . . really know what to say . . . where to begin.”

your response is simple, “mm.”

armin turns his head, fixing you with a stare of incredulity. he tries not to focus too much on your dolled up face . . how you’ve taken your braids out which now leaves tightly coiled curls resting a few inches past your shoulders — half of it is pulled into a ponytail with a small, pretty, glitter dusted scrunchie. he doesn’t want to focus too much on your attire — jesus fucking christ, just what were you doing?”. . . reiner?”

eventually, you look at him. your expression crosses a line between bewilderment and irritation, “what?” you mimic his same tone. whether it was done intentionally or not, armin doesn’t know but his own aggravation rises.

turning his face back forward, he then folds his arms and leans back within his seat, “would’ve thought eren was more your type,” he utters. “or . . fuckin’ jean, i don’t know.”

“what are you even talking about?” your tone is exasperated, you plop your face within your hand and shake your head, visibly annoyed. armin refuses to elaborate. the longer silence stretches, the angrier you become. “why . . do you even care?” your body’s straightening once more and again, you look at him. “like, what the hell is your problem, armin? seriously?”

his hair has gotten longer. it isn’t a drastic change, but . . still. and the earrings he wears are no longer white gold and round cut however, black, square cut diamonds. you weren’t supposed to look at him for so long. you find it hard to look away now. “don’t do that,” his face is screwing — morphing annoyance into a meld of discomfiture and vexation. “don’t sit here and . . .”

you remain mute, waiting for him to finish though he never does. he only tilts himself back forward and places his elbows on his thighs to reach up and comb a hand through his hair. his sigh is quiet. “. . i’m sorry,” he murmurs.

you hadn’t expected an apology, truthfully. it stupefies you.

you aren’t sure of what to say. to forgive or apologize, too. there’s no reason you need to do either, you suppose. he’s apologizing because he sees you, that’s all. he’s had your number for months now. he could have easily called, or even texted, albeit . . nothing. for nearly eight weeks, it’s been nothing from armin. complete radio silence. and now he’s here . . . it’s insane how bad you’ve wanted to see him for so long, although, now being within his presence, you want nothing more than to leave. “whatever.” you’re standing and beginning up the short flight of stairs to head back towards the stern, however, armin’s right behind you again. he intercepts your path, holding an arm out between you both to keep you from taking another step.

“i’m . .” he’s confused. “i’m sorry. i apologized.”

your folded arms acts more as a fence separating you and him, rather than an action to exhibit your huffiness, “good for you, armin. i don’t forgive you.”

he doesn’t seem surprised. “you don’t forgive me.” his voice is low — not a sad low, however, he’s contemplating . . studying you.

“i don’t. i want to go back to my friends.”

he’s motionless . . and he’s quiet. behind his specs, armin simply stares at you for a moment, tracing the shape of his lips slowly — the same way he always does when he’s evaluating or ruminating on something. you feel like a literal open book. it’s a feeling of excruciating bareness. “come with me.” grabbing hold of your hand, armin interlaces his fingers within the spaces of yours while leading you behind him. he walks swiftly — a step of his takes two of yours, and in no time, you’re stumbling after him, holding onto his forearm with your other hand. “armin — c-can you not?”

he’s leading you down to the dining space of the yacht. there are a few people dotted here and there — most of them using the space for shelter against a beaming sun. he ignores them, so you do, too. a short flight of stairs below the dining area opens into a short hallway concealed by a door. he opens it, turns right, opens another, then softly nudges you inside first. it’s a bedroom. it’s minimalistic — only a queen sized bed, a few pieces of art hung along the walls and a comfy sectional, however, still . . it’s quite nice. there are two, rectangular windows that over looks the right side of the yacht. the room sits about a foot or two below the sun deck it seems because you can see people below you.

“i find that people usually enjoy saying what and how they really feel when in an enclosed space. when alone outside, you’re never truly alone.”

armin stands beside the sectional, hands on his hips. it appears as though he’s waiting.

you remain rooted beside the window. “. . i have nothing to say.”

“no?”

you look back out towards the sea, “yeah, no.”

he’s walking over . . steps deliberate, quiet. you’re stiffening the closer he gets because you know what he wears. black swimming trunks, and a thin, black button down top — only a few of them were fastened near his sternum. when he’s directly behind you, you sense the warmth of the sun, still embedded within his skin, radiating off of it onto yours. he’s close, he’s very close, albeit, he isn’t touching you . . simply, crowds your space. “. . i’ve missed you.”

your head drops and your eyes close as you rub a temple. “you’re so mean. you’re being mean.”

“ ‘m sorry.”

“stop it, armin.”

“. . i’ll leave.”

when you feel the warmth of his body retreat, you’re turning, “why would you — . . stop it, armin,” before you can really realize it, your fists are balling, you’re stomping a foot, and you’re exploding, “why did you do that? you jus’ . . stopped talking to me, stopped . . dealing with me. who does that to a person? to a friend?” you’d started off strong — voice firm and adamant, however, it weakens near the end; leaves you quiet and feeble. “that’s not . . nice, armin. that’s mean. you’re mean. you can’t keep saying sorry if you don’t even know what you’re sorry for.”

armin loathes this. he loathes what you make him feel. he sees the beginning of tears glisten your eyes and he’s walking over to take a seat on the bed and carefully pull you between his legs consequently leaving you to stand above him. albeit it’s only an inch or so separating your faces, it’s still good enough. he wants you to look at him. “i fucked up,” he admits quietly. “at first, i was busy . . i was just busy, ( ❤︎ ), honest.”

“and then what?”

you’re frowning again. armin crumbles underneath your stare. you don’t know what you do to him — what you continue to do. groaning out, he drops his head, “i just . . i can’t . . i couldn’t be around you.”

he feels you withdrawing. thoughtlessly, his hands are on your waist and he’s tugging you back, “i needed to focus,” he mumbles. “when i’m around you, i don’t focus. it’s very fucking hard for me to even concentrate on breathing when i’m with you. i didn’t . . want it to go like that. i just needed some time, but then, a week turned into two and by three i thought,” he rubs the back of his neck. “you’d be angry with me. i just, i never grew the balls to approach you head on until today. i’m sorry.”

he feels pathetic. utterly fucking pathetic. when it’s said out loud, he realizes just how much of a dick he truly is. he found himself thinking of you, every second of every day. it’d gotten to a point where he’d even dream of you — your smile, your lips, your touch. “i’m sorry,” he’s sighing and pulling you closer. “i shouldn’t have done it. forgive me.”

you’re not as tense as you once were. granted, you’re still refusing to touch him — you aren’t pulling away either. and with a ticking silence, armin admires his current position. you smell of brown sugar and patchouli, and you’re soft. he opens his legs wider, pulls you even closer. you sharply inhale comes his grip on you tightening. “armin,” your tone is hushed. he can’t help it. softly, he deposits a kiss upon your tummy, right above the gold bar of your dangling navel piercing. “i’m sorry,” he whispers against your skin. he engraves the apology within you alongside another kiss — this one upon the mole he’d always catch a peek of when you’d wear cute baby tees and cropped tops. it sits right upon your hip. “ ‘m sorry.”

he goes higher. kisses each of your bone of your ribs, your sternum. he feels you squirming, however, it isn’t away. you push into him — lean when he pulls away and tugs when he’s close. “let me show you.”

a hand skims down your thigh — it raises small bumps in its wake. you feel yourself trembling as he takes the back of your knee and makes you bend it to plant your foot upon the bed, slow and careful. “won’t happen again, i promise,” his eyes are fixated upon yours as he falls to the floor upon his knees. they don’t move, even as he kisses along your calf, pushing himself higher with each passing second.

your heart’s pounding. you let the small shoulder bag you wear fall off of your arm when he reaches for it and places upon a nightstand. tension cascades off of the walls of the room — slow and thick. you no longer hear the constant thump of bass outside, but each shallow, quivering breath he takes. it’s maddening how unhurried he is — you can tell he feels your frustration, because he smiles, dimples exposed. “you smell so fucking good,” he utters within the inside of your thigh, stunning you when he suddenly kisses a patch of skin there, nibbles, then draws it tight inside his mouth. it’s . . impressive — how quick he marks you. “all the time. everyday.”

higher he goes and the more you tremble.

his whisper is quiet, “stay still.”

majority of his face is now hidden beneath the chiffon of your skirt. you think you’re going to faint. there’s the sensation of a finger, one single finger, hooking within the crotch of your panties . . carefully pulling them aside. you whimper, suddenly apprehensive, “a-armin.”

“there we go.”

a couple more kisses against your thigh, then he’s pulling you closer. you’re a second away from bolting — leg twitching, eyes locked upon the door. your nails are pinching within your own knee as you go to move, right as you feel the warmth . . of something firm, wet, and long, touching your clit.

you dissolve — eyes closing, face melting, as he does it again with a wet pucker — he’s . . kissing it. slow and deliberate. “oh my,” you gulp when he does. “. . god.”

armin’s slow . . careful. he pays attention to your clit, beckoning the little, wet pearl inside of his mouth to sweetly suckle before snaking his tongue down to your hole to get a taste from the direct source. you’re sweet, salty . . akin to rose water. he breathes out through his nose — a sigh of gentle relief because you taste just as good as you look, just as he’d imagined for so many lonely nights, lying in bed, fist wrapped around his cock that’d drip with an obscene amount of pre cum and lube. “dreamt of this,” he mutters into your pussy, suddenly grabbing a handful of one soft, plush orb of your ass to bring you even closer. “sweet fuckin’ pussy — god, give it. give me it, baby.”

you weakly sob his name, reaching a trembling hand for his head. soothingly, your fingers scratch through, soft and cloying, as if you were afraid you’d hurt him, prior to you establishing a grip. “mhm.” he presses himself higher, opens wider, strokes his tongue along the canvas past your lips, no longer paying attention to one, sole place. your hips shyly buck when he pushes.

“oh, god,” you sigh and let your head fall backward, body liquefying within his hold. he feels so good. his tongue, his touch, it churns your mind into goo. “armin,” you mewl his name, sweet and quiet. “ ‘min it feels so g-good.”

you don’t know how long he’s waited. how long he’s envisioned himself between your legs . . you using his mouth for however long you needed, however long you wanted. he feels your hips beginning to move with more assuredness, rolling and rocking down onto his awaited tongue, and his cock plumpens. it solidifies, twitching against the muscle of his thigh. “unh,” your moans are riveting — cute and whiny. he never would’ve guessed that your voice would become so broken, so tender when you feel so good. “please,” you’re whimpering. suddenly you’re reaching for your skirt, pulling it up to reveal his face. his glasses are fogged near the bottom, pupils are blown. “ ‘min . .”

“i know,” he breathes. “i know you wanna cum, baby. i know.”

you feel a finger. it traces the puffy rim of your hole as the tip of his tongue plays with your clit. he only sinks it in when you whine of restlessness — he enjoys the teasing, the building pressure. watching your face, armin evaluates it and intently observes each expression. slack jaw, crease between the eyebrows, chest heaving — you feel good. that’s all he wants.

your body literally jerks when he presses his finger as far as it’ll go then hooks it. “oh god,” your balance nearly teeters. you start to move again, pushing back against his finger then back forward into his mouth. you’re delirious, inhibitions gone, worries left somewhere astray within the seas surrounding you both.

armin groans, glasses knocked a bit askew — he doesn’t care, “fuck m’mouth,” he whispers, warm breath panted into your cunt. “y-yeahhh, jus li’that — . . so good. good fuckin’ girl.”

it’s at this moment when you admit to yourself that he’s all you want. he’s all you ever need. these couple months without him have been hell. you don’t want to go another day, let alone another minute without belonging solely to him and him, you. you cum with a hiccupy cry. your hand wrenches within his hair, pulling and seizing as he forces you to ride it out with shaky pivots of your hips. armin’s tongue refuses to quit for a moment. he pushes it alongside his finger to gather your sticky release within the opening vent of his mouth and swallow. “mmm.” only moves when you pull yourself away, palpably overstimulated.

your foot falls to the floor and you stumble before quickly finding stabilization against the bed. you brace yourself against it . . and for a while, there aren’t anything but pants heard within the room. armin’s face is drenched. he wears your cum like a necklace — driblets cling to the curve of his chin hanging there for several moments, as if stubborn to let go, before they fall to the floor between his knees. you watch him lick his lips prior to using one, large hand to swipe against his mouth and groom him back clean. you think you hate him . . you do because it’s clear he isn’t satiated. you watch him take off his glasses . . watch him quietly clean them with the fabric of his shirt. “. . stop it.”

“stop what?”

his tone is serene. he doesn’t even look at you.

“this.”

when they’re no longer smeared with a damp fog, he places them back on and rises onto his feet, slow and careful. “. . . i’m gonna go now,” he gives you a smile. it’s . . shocking . . what you now know, how filthy you know that same mouth can get, however now only imparts you a warm, civil simper.

you watch him turn . . watch him head towards the door.

“please don’t.”

his sigh is heard. it’s long . . hard. you remain where you stand, hoping he feels what’s clear that you want. “i’m not . .” he scratches his head for a moment before turning back around. what now lies beneath his eyes is a thin layer of frenzy. “you know what you’re doing, right?” one step closer. “i’m not . . doing this with you, ( ❤︎ ). i’m not. i refuse to even encourage the mere thought of having something strictly platonic again, especially fucking casual with you. i did that,” he points to the area where you both just were. “to exhibit my regret. to express my forgiveness. there was some selfishness in there, yeah. i’ll admit that,” another step closer. he stands only a few inches apart from you now. “but, you want me to stay,” his voice softens, his eyes do too. “if i stay we both know what will happen. we’ll fuck and it’ll be good. and i can’t place myself in a position to intertwine myself within you, even further just for sex. i’m not—“

you’re quickly rising to your toes, placing your hand upon the back of his neck to lower his face down and connect your lips against his. it quiets him and he catches on quick. armin’s pulling you into his body, molding his lips within the soft seam of yours, pushing and pushing himself until your back is flushed against a wall and he surrounds you completely. in the distant part of his mind, he’s cursing at himself. this isn’t supposed to be happening, nonetheless, what is a human being without some indulgence here and there? he needs this. if he can’t have you, one hundred percent, pure, and refined you, then the least he can have is this — a memory of your lips. they’re plush and soft; imbued with the taste of cake batter.

“don’t leave,” you mewl, reaching for the buttons of his shirt. you’re undoing them, one by one, revealing the plane of his abdominal muscles, faintly carved.

your lips are moving, slipping down his jaw, to his neck. armin’s eyes close as he melts and ingrains his nails within the wall behind you. you feel so good. “i can’t,” he’s shivering when you nibble upon the soft lobe of his ear. his cock is dripping precum down his thigh. it’s a mess. “can’t b-be just friends . . with you.”

“then don’t,” your nails scraps against his chest. they’re sliding, lower and lower until they find the hem of his trunks. “i’ll be yours. jus’ yours,” when it slithers its way in, your fingers wrap around the thickness of his base. involuntarily, he bucks within your grasp. “i promise.”

he’s kissing you again — this instance with more vigor. you let him spin and guide you blindly to the bed while his tongue weaves its way around yours. hints of salt reside upon his tastebuds, hints of you. you hear his shoes being kicked away when you’re lied down and he’s on top of you. you want to do the same with your strappy heels . . alas, they’re buckles. “lemme see,” he’s breathing while lifting up on his knees, inducing you to give him your foot. “look so pretty. don’t think i told y’that today.” he’s unfastening your heels and letting them fall, eyes fixated on your little skirt and low plunging top. “i like you in blue.”

you’re smiling, suddenly timid, “really?”

“yeah,” he’s opening your legs wider to accommodate his build. “you look like a princess.”

says him. armin’s princely in all that he does — suave and smooth. the way he walks, talks, the way he peels off your skirt and tiny panties, followed by your top. you’re bare below him within a minute, leaving him atop of you, still in his trunks and opened shirt. “wow . .” you squirm underneath his gaze, blushing and meek. “be still,” he whispers, eyes tracing your bod . . focusing on a mole here, freckle there, a cute birthmark. “let me . . let me look at you.” you watch him raise a hand . . it pauses midair above your tit, as if hesitant, before he carefully cups it. “hm.”

you keen underneath his touch, watching his thumb carefully roll the brown, hardened nub of your nipple beneath it. he’s studying you again — eyebrows furrowed in a bit, completely focused. he brings his thumb to his mouth, quickly wets it, then places it back against your nipple, this time gently twisting and squeezing at it. “ah,” you hiccup and writhe, dreadfully sensitive.

his eyes meet yours as his brows raise, “want my . . want m’tongue instead?”

he doesn’t give you much room to answer. his head lowers and his hands are dimpling the fat of your breasts as he presses his fingers into the skin to establish a good grip. you watch his tongue lathe across the surface of your areola preceding him completely enveloping it within his mouth. he’s generous. licks and suckles, trades between both, giving them equal amounts of affection and care. your pussy leaks between your legs while he does so. from his bent head, you’re able to smell his shampoo — a woodsy milk. and it’s a hard reality to grasp for a while . . armin here, above you, solid hard cock pressed up against your thigh as he nurses on your tits as though he’d been starving without them. “touch me,” you’re gasping and pulling him closer, leading his other arm underneath you so that he’s able to take a second nice grasp of your ass. “mmm.” you conceive that he’s a dream. a simple beaut made just for you. that maybe you’ve gone crazy and this is how your brain is coping after having been driven to the point of delirium.

but then, armin’s moving. he’s kneeling to shrug off his shirt, then his trunks are removed and . . . “oh my god . .?” you lift onto your elbows, thoroughly stunned. you’d felt him when you slid your hands down his shorts — knew he had the thickness about the size of a coke bottle, but . . you hadn’t expected the length.

“what?” he’s clueless. eyes wide in . . some form of unease and apprehensiveness. “is it bad?”

“what, no . . it’s,” your head tilts and you . . blush. “pretty.”

he’s cut with a fat coral toned tip. stands at nearly eight inches, seven point five maybe . . equal in girth and length. there’s a trail of light brown hair below his belly button that stretches into a thin patch of it against his groin, nevertheless, his balls are bare. they’re chubby . . soft yet a little droopy. you would’ve never expected him to be so . . perfect below the waist, albeit, when regarding everything else about him, you suppose it checks out.

“d-do you have . .”

he catches on, “oh, yeah . . uhm,” he picks his shorts again, reaching into the pocket for a lilac packet. “alright.”

you watch him spit into his palm. he strokes it along his length a few times, face momentarily melting into one of ease before he’s ripping open the wrapper, and though it was quick, you try to imprint the picture of him jerking himself within your brain — his arm pumping, bicep flexing, facial muscles relaxing.

your clit thumps. you try to hold off on touching it while watching him carefully roll the condom upon his dick. “hurry,” you’re whiny . . impatient.

he’s whispering, “mm, don’t be a brat,” while crowding back in again though this time he remains standing. he pulls you closer towards the edge of the bed, closer towards him, then forces your legs up and holds one of them out of his way when he grabs the foundation of his cock. you watch him lift it then let it fall upon your chubby, little pussy with a hard smack. you feel the weight of it when he does — it’s leaden and dense . . heavy . . your heart is hammering.

armin smooths the underside between them for a moment, back and forth, lets you both admire the way your lips hug his length tight . . how your pussy begins to speak to him with shy little quips of wetness. “mm, fuck,” he puckers his lips, lets a foamy dribble of spit fall from between him, and with the tip of his cock, he pushes the blob inside of your cunt.

“o-oh!” you tense and pierce your nails in the skin of your thighs, forced to watch as his cock presses in . . inch by inch. it’s weighty, just as you’d thought. it sits within your womb akin to a dumbbell inside of foam, slowly but never halting . . sinking deeper and deeper. “g-god . . oh . . god.” your head falls back.

armin’s watching you . . mostly silent. if it weren’t for his expression, you wouldn’t have thought he felt anything, however, you read how his eyelids have fallen low into his eyes . . his loosened jaw, how his fingers press in deeper and deeper into your calf. when its fully sheathed, you both sit there for a moment, settling in the moment. “mm,” you feel yourself loosening. your eyes flutter open and you take a peek down to commend the picture of your cunt stretched open and full, gratefully taking all that he gives. “y’can . . move.”

“yeah?” armin’s breathless. he’s holding himself scarily still, awaiting the instant you give him a sweet nod.

you don’t think there’s a lot of . . talking after that. he pulls his hips back, leaves about half of him inside, pushes back, then pulls further out, loosening you up further. and you’re trying to keep your eyes open , because armin’s body is pretty. the slight abdominals of his torso flex with push of his cock inside . . and, god, his face is even prettier. and you’re trying not to be too loud, make too much noise because neither of you know who could be outside the door listening. but, disregarding your obvious efforts, both happen.

your eyes shut as you lose yourself in the sensation of being rocked forward and back . . of a hard, thick cock working your pussy nice and well. “oh my god,” you’re whimpering, curling your toes, helplessly wriggling. “oh, fuck . . armin . . a-armin.”

he groans come the sound of his name leaving your lips so beautifully, so melodically. “yeah,” he sighs, pressing your legs back further, leaning himself closer. “feel good? do i feel good, baby?”

it’s adorable how quick you nod. you reach for him, little paws scrambling for his shoulders to bring him nearer. the smacking of skin soon arrives — loud and rhythmic. it induces your eyes to roll back into the back of your skull, coupled with the waxy sound of his dick fucking your slick out of you, firm and steady. “u-ungh . . feels so . .” you feel a harsh sting behind your eyelids. “oh my . . god,” you collapse into tears, holding him tighter when he attempts to pull away. they’re inevitable. you hadn’t known you could feel so good. it frightens you, too. “n-no, keep going . . please. n-need . . your cock . . your cum—“

“—unh, shit,” armin’s gone. you’ve successfully pulled him in. “wan’my cum? how bad?” he’s picking up speed, pushing you further up the bed, no longer opting to stand but lay directly atop of you and pound your sweet, little pussy sore from up above. “how bad? tell me.”

you feel yourself creaming. it’s dripping down the puckered button of your ass, effectively spreading across the front of his balls. “s-so . .” you’re hiccuping. “bad. so fucking bad.”

he’s kissing you, swallowing your cries and keens into the pit of his stomach, “good girl,” he huffs into your mouth. “so f-fuckin good, you have no idea j-just how good you are.”

he fucks you with everything he has — until the bed begins to squeak underneath your conjoined weight and the door rattles on its hinges. how bad he’s wanted this . . for so long. he thinks about what you said, ‘ i’ll be yours. just yours. i promise, ‘ and a warm tremor wracks across the length of his body. that’s all he wants. you as his, him as yours, forever until the end of time itself. he looks down at you — at your bouncing tits, gloss smeared lips, pretty eyes, and decides you’re the only one he cares for to have in this position again. mind completely gone, drool and tears trickling across the berry toned blush and glitter that powders the high peaks of your cheeks. “take it,” he’s moaning, voice broken. he realizes he sounds warbly . . close to erupting into his own laments of raw emotion. “oh g-god, take your f-fuckin’ dick.”

he’s fucking you so hard . . no longer settling on speed but depth. plop . . plop . . plop. your legs find themselves thrown over his shoulders, your knees touching your ears. “ ‘m gonna cum,” you’re gasping, wriggling harder. “f-fuck . . y’gonna make m’cum.”

“yes,” one of his hands reaches down and he finds the tiny, slick nub of your clit to sweetly caress with precious halos. “ ‘ll take it . . you know i will. give it to me.”

you feel out of body. your mouth falls agape however no sound emerges. it’s nothing but the notes of his breathing, skin clapping, and the bed creaking until you’re suddenly releasing a slow, hard sob as you paint his cock white with a slow deluge of thick cream. armin groans laggard and low along with you, stroking you through it, never increasing or slowing his pace. you’re dizzy. you don’t even comprehend him moving until you find yourself now up top — ass against his thighs, chest pressed against his. he’s underneath you, gazing up at you with fondness glowing within the chasmal darkness of his distended pupils.

“y’so pretty,” he whispers, rocking his hips up slow and steady, successfully pushing his cock up into the squelching warmth of your cunt each time. “pussy feels so good. don’t want anyone else. i jus’ n-need you.” he’s spewing every thought that enters his mind. you can’t help but kiss him. your affection is his vitality. suddenly his arms are wrapped around you, tight, mimicking a hug. it’s a hold to keep you still and firm as he pace increases, sending you separating from his lips with a small squeak of surprise emitted. “oh god,” you’re gasping, holding onto the headboard for stability. “oh — yesyesyesyes.”

“all mine, right?” he’s asking, face painted in titillation. “ ‘s my pussy?”

“ ‘m yours,” you’re weeping and nodding when he does, brainlessly complying. “m’pussy’s yours. all y-yours.”

there’s a smack — a loud one. he swats it against the cheek of your ass and repeats the motion against the other. and then, armin loses himself. he focuses on that fat, wad of pure, undiluted pleasure, rolling through the lines of his veins, towards the base of his core. his eyes close, head tilts back, “awe, shit,” his pitch is rising the closer he gets. “ungh, unh, shit, pussy’s s-so f-fuckin good — shit . .” he feels your lips on his neck again, skimming, suckling, kissing. it’s a pressure point for him. he’s sensitive. “. . i’m gonna f-fuckin—“

suddenly you’re moving. you’re hurrying, climbing off of him, sliding down between his legs and pulling the condom off. armin watches you eyes wide, breathing labored . . and then, against all odds, you’re swallowing his cock into the channel of your throat. it’s so sudden, so unforeseen that when it happens, his cum is erupting from the crown of his cock before you both can even really expect it. “o-o-oh fuck,” he shudders, eyes rolling back, fingers pinching the messy sheets. you whimper, guzzling it all down happily. your hips even shift . . from side to side, as if you were an overeager pup with a wagging tail. you don’t move until you swallow. armin gives a small whimper, watching his dick pop free from the confinements of your lips. you’re softly smiling, planting a kiss against the tip, stroking your tongue tenderly against his balls.

he’s done for.

nonetheless, you’re happy . . so he’s happy. your smile is wide, eyes glisten, and he can’t help but mimic it as you come to a sweet curl and nuzzle upon his chest. there’s a kiss given to the crown of your head and one given upon the back of his hand. you’ve never felt more sated.

“mm,” he shuffles, brings you closer and kisses your lips. “. . what’re you doin’ for spring break?”

the question has to take a moment to enter and process within your still foggy mind. you’re quiet for a while, simply thinking. “. . i-i dunno,” you whisper. “nothing. you?”

he gives you one of his pretty, princely smiles, “wanna camp out on a strawberry farm?”

[143bwi]

that blurb u posted but decided to take out of the chapter literally me giggling, kicking my feet, and rolling around in my bed omfg Kami please YOU KNOWWWWW HOW CHOSO GETS MEEEEEEEEEE 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

-☃️

Well if that’s the case, here’s a blurb I deleted from the Christmas chapter…

It was after sex w Choso but he was eager for more, yes things are missing but it’s just a blurb ><

Here’s 1k words of Choso thirsting for you. It’s smut btw, just not finished so you may feel edged in the end :3

“That’s what the fuck I thought,” Choso scoffs and then goes back to what he was doing, parting your legs nice and wide enough for his head to go between them.

Your cunt was already wet again from his moment of being commanding. You didn’t even realize how hot you found that until he pointed it out.

“Damn,” Choso chuckles, “Look at her,” He moves a hand and spreads your folds apart to watch the way your liquids glisten. The tip of his cock leaks at the sight, enough precum flowing out that the male almost thought he was experiencing an orgasm already.

Looking at you made his dick so hard and his mouth was watering like crazy, so much so that he was almost drooling already.

“Choso please don’t talk to my pussy like it’s a person,” You say jokingly.

He bites his lip as he stares at your sex, “I can’t help it, baby. She talks to me so I talk to her.” Choso says before slipping his thumb in between your folds. He doesn’t push it in but instead, collects some of your moisture on his skin, hearing you let out a breath of air, “She’s always so wet f’me… ‘nd soft, ‘nd warm…” He comments.

You release a subtle whine, “S-Stop talking…”

Choso’s thumb slides up to your clit and he applies a little bit of pressure, “Why? She likes it when I talk to her,” He continues.

You bite back any sounds that threaten to come out.

“Look at her,” He murmurs, tipping his head to the side, “You’ miss me, princess?” The way he’s talking makes your body twitch in both embarrassment and arousal, the movement not going unnoticed by Choso, “See? I told you she talks to me.”

“Choso-“ Your voice drowns out when the man moves both of his thumbs to your folds and spreads you apart, quickly pressing his tongue to your wetness. “Mmh… w-wait-“

His tongue swipes up and he presses the muscle down as if to really allow your liquids to simmer on his tongue. Then, he pulls away and sighs, “Y’know, I’m surprised you haven’t said anything yet…”

“A-About what?” You whisper, your eyes up on the ceiling as you wonder how you went from thinking about taking a break to here.

Choso takes his hands off you and moves to get off the couch for a minute. “You haven’t noticed something’s missing?” He asked, “Babe, we made out several times already…”

Babe? That’s… new? You ignore it, “Okay…?”

“My feelings are starting to get hurt, y’know…” Choso says with a purposeful pout as he makes his way over to a bag of his. You see him reach into it and then pull out another item, unable to tell exactly what he’s doing due to the lighting.

“I’m confused, what’s missing?” You ask as you start to sit up.

“Don’t move,” Choso voices out. His back is to you so you have no idea how the hell he knew you were repositioning yourself but you freeze and then lay back down, “And now I’m disappointed…”

Your brows furrow, “Cho, just tell me what’s missing?”

You could see his arms moving but you really didn’t know what he was doing. Then, he puts something back into his bag and turns around to you. Choso walks right back over to you and he waits a moment before getting on the couch, simply looking down at you.

You stare up for a moment, glance down at his erection for a moment, a moment longer than intended because his dick is huge, and looking at it distracts you, and then before you even think about looking up, he’s talking.

“Eyes up here, pretty girl,” Choso says.

You glance up and the man then sticks his tongue out. That was when you remembered that cursed piercing of his. The same piercing that’s had you weak all over for quite some time. How could you forget such a thing?

The male closes his mouth and then moves to get on top of you, “Y’know I took it out not too long after I left,” He informs you, “Haven’t put it back in since.” He says, settling in between your legs again.

Your brows furrow, “Why would you-“

His lips press into your cunt abruptly and you let out a breathy sigh. Then, Choso smirks, “Keep talkin’ princess, don’t mind me.”

“I c-can’t talk when you-,” He does it again. This time, his lips part over you and his tongue is slipping in between your folds within seconds, “Fuck…”

There it is, there’s that damn piercing of his tickling you. And it’s fucking cold, contrasting your warmth and making you shudder. Choso licks at your sex a few times before his hands move again. He uses both of his thumbs to spread your folds for a second time and then dives right in.

His tongue smears against your pussy and you can’t help the quiet moan that leaves you. “C-Choso… hah…”

He curls his tongue up as he licks you, forcing your taste into his mouth right before he pulls away to speak, “What? Jus’ give me five minutes…” He grumbles, not even looking up at you as the little taste he got was enough to have him hungry for you, “I missed eating you out so fucking much.” Choso breathes.

You don’t get the chance to respond as his mouth latches onto your cunt again. This time he sucks and slurps your taste into his mouth, gulping loudly and shamelessly as he drinks in your moisture. A groan leaves his throat at the way your taste flows into his mouth and you release a whine.

“Baby…” Choso grunts, “Let me do this til’ you fall asleep.” He requests.

“You said five minutes…”

“I wanna’ eat til’ my jaw locks again.”

Yes, yes he said again. He’s done it before. Three times actually.

“Choso what is up with you? Shouldn’t you be tired?”

He stops for a moment and finally looks up to your eyes, “Baby, let me make you feel good.”

Sorry not sorry for edging y’all w this💀

[143bwi]

Yes I would still love the Lee tang smut!!

Convenience Store Guy

Summary: Confronting your coworker about the weird messages you've received doesn't go as planned.

Warnings: Language, Dark Themes, Stalking, Threats, Slight!DeadDove, Gaslighting, Convenience store era cus that was the best, Unstable Tang, Smut 18+ (Minors DNI) Rough Sex, Choking, Degradation Kink, Kinda Virgin!Tang, Dom!Tang

Stalking is bad. If someone is Stalking you, 100% don't do what y/n does, please.

The more he spoke to you, the more he found it increasingly difficult to act like a good person.

“And guess what else?” The chill in your voice has nothing to do with the oppressive winter weather.

“You're pregnant.” your co-worker says.

You laugh and he laughs because you laugh.

It took a certain level of skill, Lee Tang likes to admit - being able to time exactly when you’d crane your neck back, letting your complaints reach the artificial fluorescents while he lowered his incriminating eyes to your cleavage.

“Remember that unknown number I told you about? The one that kept sending all the weird messages?” Tang hums, bopping his head as he slyly adjusts the front of his jeans, obscured by the counter.

“Shit, don't tell me you got another one,'' As the words leave his mouth, you're already handing your phone to him.

“This was sent to me last night,” You say, swinging your head away from the cash register and towards the wide windows displaying the night beyond. Anyone out there could be the person terrorising you. Anyone could be out to get you.

The text simply and succinctly read:

Wear the same colour tomorrow.

And while Lee Tang attempted to feign uncomfortable ignorance (as one might when your coworker tells you she might be getting stalked), he couldn't help but notice that you were, in fact wearing the same colour. Bright yellow.

For some inexplicable reason… you listened.

“What were you wearing?”

He already knew.

“Is that important?” You step aside, making way for the final customer to be rung up. All the while, Tang nurses an even bigger boner than before.

He did not… exactly intend for his moves to get so bold but texting you and having you listen to hus demands… the demands of a stranger… the whole thing is something akin to shooting pure heroin straight into a fresh vein.

Perhaps you weren't so innocent in the exchange.

“That's not important,” You say quietly before swinging your head towards him again, “I thought we should focus on the very real fact that I might have a stalker?”

“Maybe you should respond to the poor guy and see what he has to say- that'll be ₩5000,” While Tang entertains his customer, you immediately grab your phone before stuffing it into your back pocket. The convenience store buzzes with the exit of the final customer.

“Because entertaining a stalker is exactly what they tell us to do,” you accompany your sentence with a small eye roll.

“We don't know if it's a stalker.” Tang didn't like that term. He'd much rather prefer ‘walking you home from a distance,’

“All this guy has done so far is send a couple weird messages.”

Not a stalker. Not a stalker. Not a stalker.

“Why don't you just block him?”

You'd think by the self gratification in this voice that Tang solved world hunger. You let him dwell in his ignorance, partly because you were afraid to dissect how deep this iceberg went.

You were afraid to admit that you had already blocked the Private number… twice.

Initially you had hoped the messages were the effects of some virus, but they kept getting worse by the second.

[17:59] Just wanted to know if you've had a nice day? :)

[20:22] My cat’s sick. Idk what's wrong with her.

[20:23] I don't have a cat lol

[22:23] Where'd you get your cat?

[01:00] I love talking to you

[01:05] You're so fucking hot

[02:03] I love you

You were afraid to admit that you waited for his message at the end of every long monotonous day.

While you wrestle will all sorts of the moral implications that came with enabling you stalker, Tang couldn't take his eyes off your dress.

Had you really worn the dress for him?

Tang couldn't suspend disbelief even for a millisecond to imagine a world in which that was possible. When he sent that message, he obviously didn't expect a response.

He always believed he was nothing but a fragment of furniture in the workings of your life.

The convenience store guy you occasional spoke to.

Everything began to feel more and more brighter in your presence. The clinical musk that hung in the convenient store began to smell more and more like jasmine and time seemed to grow wings and take off whenever you swung by, chatting his ear off about your latest inconvenience.

One moment you were an irritation, the next Tang found himself seated at his desk, surrounded by a halo of used tissues while habitually scouting out porn where the campy lead actress resembled you more and more. He found it concerningly easy to get off when your eyes, your smile and those beautiful fucking tits were clouding his mind eye.

It was around this time when he started walking you home.

For a while, a vaguely heavy silence sits in between you two. Tang, with his head bowed, chooses to ruminate in an emotion very new and complex to him…guilt.

He is completely unaware that you're watching him, until you sigh loudly. “You know… you could at least try to sound convincing,” your words cause his neck to snap up and he watches with wide eyes as you round the counter, dragging your finger against the cold surface.

“I think I'd find it way more endearing if you don't try to lie to me, Tang.” You're walking closer and closer and he feels like his entire mental state has imploded on itself.

“Fuck, I'm going mental,” he screws his eyes shut and pats his cheeks rather hard. When he opens them, youre still there. His breathing picks up as your warmth penetrates the radius surrounding his flustered, agitated body and Tang immediately sends a worried gaze up to the CCTV nestled in the corner above.

“Some girls respond better to just being asked out.”

A billion lies try to flash across his mind's eye. Anything that might get him out of this situation unscathed. He comes up empty. Eventually, all Lee Tang is capable of, is a droop in his shoulders as he asks, “Are you going to call the cops?”

You don't respond immediately. Choosing, instead, slide your finger over his on the counter. Your warm hands encircling his had the power to knock the very life out of him.

“I should call the cops,” you state very gravely,” you look up at him with a grim sort of fascination.

Lee Tang has mentally checked out. His droopy, ringed eyes are stationed on your lips alone.

“You really should.” He says, before bending down ever so slowly as if to bridge the gap between both of your lips.

“You're sick, you know that? You had me fearing for my fucking life,” You're whispering. Why are you whispering?

“Don't say shit like that,” he whispers back.

“Why?”

Almost before he can talk himself out of it, Lee Tang grabs ahold of your hand, the one stationed on his own and he presses your palm directly onto his bulge. His eyes nearly roll back at the warmth of your small little hand alone and you watch, absolutely mesmerised as he begins to rub your palm up and down and up and down.

“Wait-”

“No.” He states, before motioning to bend down and kiss you, but before he can, you stop him with a hand against his chest.

There it was. That all too familiar pang of rejection. That nauseating, acidic feeling that ate away at his insides.

It made him want to hurt you.

How dare you try to stop him?

How dare you bring him this far, only to take it all away?

How dare you?

“Wait.”

“What?” Your eyes widen at the slightly louder quality in his tone. Sensing that you might have disrupted something that was well on its way to blossoming, you're quick to try and appease his nerves. You watch the conflict in his eyes dissipate and when you step closer towards him, your front pressed against his as you whisper in his ear, “Not here,” before spinning around, in the direction of the break room. It takes a moment for his brain to process your words, but when they do, he's ambling his way onwards, away from CCTV.

The very second he shuts the door to the break room, he's charging at you in a quick, frantic gait.

You're only allowed to feel nervous for a total of 5 seconds before he's pushing you against the wall, forcing his tongue down your throat as if it were his first kiss. His movements are jilted and frantic and so incredibly messy. If it were anyone else you might have been disgusted by his haste only proves to be contagious. You can feel it rubbing off on you with the way you mewl against his mouth, shoving your fingers into his mop of dark, unkempt hair.

“You're so perfect to me, F-Fuck,” he whispers in between kisses. He never strayed too far. Your lips stayed connected by a line of saliva. You were both absolutely wrecked.

“So, long…” he whispers, before shoving his hand over your boobs and squeezing, “I've thought about this for so fucking long. I've jerked off to you for so fucking long- I just-” He breathes out, before flattening his thumb against your pebbled, clothed nipples, “I've always fucking wanted you,”

“How long?”

“Since I saw you,” he whispers before dipping his head in between the crook of your neck. Instead of splaying lazy kisses there, you gasp at the sound of him completely inhaling you. “F-Fuck…” he whispers before pulling back, enough to fiddle with his belt, “I need to fuck you,” he simply and succinctly says before bringing his other hand up to your collar. “You're not gonna go anywhere, yeah?” As he asks this, he curls his fingers around your throat, alluding to the real and very daunting fact that he wouldn't allow you to go, even if you wanted to…

“I'm not going anywhere,” you attempt to coax him yet again but he still keeps a firm grip around your throat as he slides, quite sloppily into your slippery cunt. Now his eyes roll back and he exhales the biggest groan he's ever let out. “I already know I'm not gonna fucking last,” with his free hand he swipes his fingers across your clit, stimulating you to the highest level as you whine and mewl into the air.

“So long,” he continues muttering as he ruts into you, “ s-so fucking long… s-so tight. You're too tight-”

You're caught in the throes of the pleasure of being fucked so throughly and so roughly that you completely miss his question.

“Hey?” He says all too quietly while slapping continuously at the side of your cheek as if trying to bring you back down to earth, “You're such a slut you didn't even hear what I asked you?”

You manage to shake your head.

“I asked if you were a virgin.”

You stilled at the question, sensing that you were walking on dangerous ground. Which, you were realising is a norm around this guy. While you were thinking you had to choose your words correctly, Tang dips his head in between your neck and shoulder once more.

“Doesn't matter,” He ruts against you, feeling himself get closer and closer as his grip on your neck becomes tight.

“I'll kill him-” and for some inexplicable reason you cum at that very moment. Your moans reach the dusty ceiling and you fall apart against him so absolutely.

“You're gonna make m-me-” He's already cumming inside you, all while completely cutting off the air to your lungs. He watches you through his spell of pleasure as you claw at his hand and it only makes him cum harder.

“F-Fuck,” he whispers when he empties the last of his seed inside your weeping cunt. You gasp for all the air you were deprived of and he watches with morbid curiosity as life flows back into your eyes.

“That was way better than porn.” Now that he had you, he didn't plan on ever letting you go.

[143bwi]

I know it seems silly but I do think that love is the most important thing in the world

[143bwi]

maybe i was born to read fanfic and obsess over fictional men idk

#real

[143bwi]

this is so cute and sweeeeet i love

onyankopon really likes you.

it’s not a normal like, it’s an “id do anything for you if you wanted me to” type of like. and a “just like me back” type of like. except, he’s never told you those things.

see, ony doesn’t know how to express his self when it comes to you. but he knows how to talk to you, and how to pretend he doesn’t wanna be more than just your bestfriend. he knows how to act like he isn’t jealous when other guys come around and try to get your number.

he knows to just look away whenever he sees you talking to someone else, because he’d never admit it, but he got a heartache every time he’d see you giving your number out. even though he knew you’d just block the guy you were giving it to.

he didn’t tell anyone about his feelings for you, not even connie. he wanted to be private about your relation— i mean, the way he felt about you.

but when he got drunk, tipsy even. when you caught him at the right moment, you’d hear him say “i like you.” whilst leaning back on the couch. “i know, i know. you need to get your rest though, you’re just drunk.” you muttered with a soft chuckle.

“nah, i like you. for real.” he said again. you rolled your eyes. “i know, ony. you’re my best friend. i like you too.” you sighed, sitting beside him to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid for the night.

onys eyes dragged to your face. he admired you, not opening his mouth to say anything else. except for “ion know why you be tryna talk to other niggas… when im right here.” he mumbled. you looked at him with a confused look. it was the alcohol talking, for sure. “you gotta stop yo’ stuff.” you laughed softly while shaking your head.

but your smile slowly turned into a slight frown when you realized he was dead serious. no smile, no frown, just a straight look.

“youn get it…” he slowly shook his head and looked at the ground. he could barely keep his eyes open. “it’s like… youn know how pretty you is… and you just…” he looked back up at you. “youn know what you do to me, y/n.”

your heart felt like it was about to pierce open.

“and i be tryna hide that shit but goddamn, you be driving me crazyyy.” he dragged his words out while stretching his legs and dragging his hands over his face. “fuck.” he whispered to his self.

“so you like me?”

you tried to make sure he wasn’t just saying random things.

“shit, i love you if you wanna put it like that.”

you couldn’t help but smile. “onyyy.” you played with your fingers and smacked your lips. “youn mean that.” you looked him.

“i do.”

you thought about it for a few seconds. but without a second thought of your final decision, you cupped his face and planted a small kiss on his lips.

“goodnight.” you mumbled before standing up and heading to your room.

leaving nothing but a dumbfounded look on onys face, which quickly turned into a lazy grin.

“fuckkk, i love her.”

#fic rec #rec #ony

[143bwi]

onyankopon really likes you.

it’s not a normal like, it’s an “id do anything for you if you wanted me to” type of like. and a “just like me back” type of like. except, he’s never told you those things.

see, ony doesn’t know how to express his self when it comes to you. but he knows how to talk to you, and how to pretend he doesn’t wanna be more than just your bestfriend. he knows how to act like he isn’t jealous when other guys come around and try to get your number.

he knows to just look away whenever he sees you talking to someone else, because he’d never admit it, but he got a heartache every time he’d see you giving your number out. even though he knew you’d just block the guy you were giving it to.

he didn’t tell anyone about his feelings for you, not even connie. he wanted to be private about your relation— i mean, the way he felt about you.

but when he got drunk, tipsy even. when you caught him at the right moment, you’d hear him say “i like you.” whilst leaning back on the couch. “i know, i know. you need to get your rest though, you’re just drunk.” you muttered with a soft chuckle.

“nah, i like you. for real.” he said again. you rolled your eyes. “i know, ony. you’re my best friend. i like you too.” you sighed, sitting beside him to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid for the night.

onys eyes dragged to your face. he admired you, not opening his mouth to say anything else. except for “ion know why you be tryna talk to other niggas… when im right here.” he mumbled. you looked at him with a confused look. it was the alcohol talking, for sure. “you gotta stop yo’ stuff.” you laughed softly while shaking your head.

but your smile slowly turned into a slight frown when you realized he was dead serious. no smile, no frown, just a straight look.

“youn get it…” he slowly shook his head and looked at the ground. he could barely keep his eyes open. “it’s like… youn know how pretty you is… and you just…” he looked back up at you. “youn know what you do to me, y/n.”

your heart felt like it was about to pierce open.

“and i be tryna hide that shit but goddamn, you be driving me crazyyy.” he dragged his words out while stretching his legs and dragging his hands over his face. “fuck.” he whispered to his self.

“so you like me?”

you tried to make sure he wasn’t just saying random things.

“shit, i love you if you wanna put it like that.”

you couldn’t help but smile. “onyyy.” you played with your fingers and smacked your lips. “youn mean that.” you looked him.

“i do.”

you thought about it for a few seconds. but without a second thought of your final decision, you cupped his face and planted a small kiss on his lips.

“goodnight.” you mumbled before standing up and heading to your room.

leaving nothing but a dumbfounded look on onys face, which quickly turned into a lazy grin.

“fuckkk, i love her.”

[143bwi]

t h e b o y i s m i n e

⋆ TAGS — mean!jk, heavy degradation, sub!oc vibes, fingering, creampiess, pussy eating, oc is super sensitive hehe, cock warming in the car, ass play(?), intense cow girl moment, dirty talk, mentions of squirting(?), messy sex, oc is cunty (CUNT CUNT CUNT), RED MF FLAGS, jk ain’t shit and neither is oc, mentions of cheating, possessive!oc don’t play about her bestie, joon n oc moment bc why not, she’s lowkey a bimbo, jk likes mocking oc, nasty sex, jk’s a simp for his bestie, oc whines a lot lol, 4liferrrsssss, oc messy asf but jk is too

⋆ WORD COUNT — 6.2 k

‘Something’s not right.’ Is what Sujin begins to think right off the bat when her boyfriend brings her to meet his “best friend”. Sujin already knew that Jungkook had a “girl” best friend wayy before she even talked to the man. All her friends were against it when she told them she was interested in Jungkook.

“No girl, you’re gonna regret it like big time. That man is going to have you looking like a fool.” They’d say but Sujin seemed hard of hearing..

Sujin knew what she was getting into but nothing could have prepared her for the hot piping mess being served in front of her face. For fucks sake her boyfriend couldn’t even fucking sit next to her because he chose to sit with “y/n”. Sujin wants to think it’s a childhood thing, maybe that’s why they’re so unnaturally close.

“Oh.” Sujin says when y/n tells her that no, they in fact met almost two years ago as college freshmans. (Sujin’s beginning to run out of ideas to make up in her head so she doesn’t go insane over the sight of you casually touching her boyfriend and Jungkook letting it happen?) Jungkook even helps separate your perilla leaf with his chopsticks.

What are you a child? Sujin’s NOT liking this so far.

“So,” Sujin smiles as politely as she can muster, “how’d you guys meet?”

You smile softly back at her, “My brother has a frat house and Jungkook happened to join, we only met cause my brother was forcing his frat guys to help me move into my new apartment. He made them do it shirtless which was pretty funny.”

Sujin nods slowly, “Ohh.. how nice. So like you guys started hanging out or what’s the deal?”

Jungkook shrugs, “I saw her manga books and we bonded over that,” he keeps it curt, like he’s not interested in talking to her (his own girlfriend), “we started chilling and yeah.” Sujin fucking hates when he talks to her like he’s bored already.

“He kept saying I reminded him of Bayonetta!” You pipe back in with a dreamy smile.

“Uh-huh, Bayonetta..” Sujin clears her throat and shifts around in her seat, “Uhh well, I think it’s getting a bit late no? Kinda time for me to get going.”

You purse your lips in a soft pout and nod at her, “I see.. I hope to see you again, you’re really nice and pretty.” You coo, “Jungkookie’s super lucky to have you,” Sujin appreciates your sincerity but she’s not so sure if she can look past how close you are with her boyfriend.

“You didn’t bring your car didn’t you?” Jungkook suddenly says, “C’mon I’ll drive you.” He rises to his feet and holds his hand out for you take.

Sujin’s jaw nearly drops as HER boyfriend slings your purse over his shoulder and helps you up, guiding you out of the booth by a hand to your back.

“Jungkook.” Sujin snaps, “I think she’s got it don’t you think?” Her boyfriend turns to look at her, and proceeds to give her the meanest fucking mug ever. Like if she had the audacity to ruin whatever the fuck was happening in front her. “What?” Sujin raises a brow.

You look up at Jungkook with those stupid puppy eyes of yours, “I can call an uber no biggie.” You say softly.

“Hey, since our meeting was cut so short, how bout I pay for it, yeah?” Sujin smiles while whipping her phone out and pressing ‘request’, like she didn’t have that ride ready to order.

Jungkook does that thing when he’s pissed where he pokes his tongue inside his cheek, he has the audacity to have a staredown with her but Sujin doesn’t back down. “..Yeah, I’ll walk you out then y/n.”

“It was nice meeting you.” You softly say while hugging Sujin tightly before waltzing out the door with Jungkook’s hand over your hip.

Sujin has to pinch the bridge of her nose, on one hand you’re the sweetest thing ever but c’mon you can’t be THAT dense can you? Sujin would have liked you in another world where you weren’t trying to get with her boyfriend.

Sujin looks out of the window and sees Jungkook leaning against the car door while you slip into the back. He’s telling you something and you’re looking at him like he’s hung the fucking stars or something. Luckily nothing happens and Jungkook closes the door before stepping back to watch the car take off.

“Fucking prick.” Sujin mutters under her breath as she steps out with a pissed look. “What the fuck was that Jungkook, huh? You gonna sit there and lie to my face and tell me not to worry about her? Answer me.” She lightly hits his arm.

Jungkook sighs deeply, “What? Fuck are you on right now, the night was going so good I don’t see the problem here.”

His nonchalant attitude makes her seethe even more, “Jungkook, she has no fucking boundaries and you don’t seem to give a shit about that, I’m the GIRLFRIEND here but this fucking turned into me meeting you two instead of her meeting me. It’s fucking humiliating watching her put hands on my boyfriend and worse that you chose to sit with her.”

“And yet you knew I was friends with her. Literally that’s everything everyone’s been telling you before I brought you here to meet her, be prepared for how close y/n is with me. This isn’t brand new to you Sujin.” Jungkook replies while fishing a cigarette out of his pocket.

Sujin watches in disbelief as he lights it and takes a drag like nothing, “That doesn’t make it okay for her to do that though. Close or not I don’t give a fuck Jungkook, you’re either with me or you’re not.” She snaps, “So tell me now before I waste my fucking time.”

Jungkook takes his sweet time, puffing away as he watches the smoke disappear into the night sky, “Okay.”

“Okay?” Sujin tilts her head, “Okay, what?”

“It’s over.” And just like that Sujin’s jaw drops for real this time, she’s utterly gagged into silence as she watches her (now) ex-boyfriend stomp out the cigarette before turning to her with a sinister look in his eye, “Bye.” He passes without as much as a glance, leaving her silent.

Sujin turns her head and watches him leave, “What the fuck.” She whispers.

.

(Not even an hour later.)

“Okay, this one or this one?” You held up two different babydoll dresses—one white with delicate frills, the other silk but more of a bodycon-type but it had a cute bow on it so why not.

Jungkook’s eyes briefly flick up from his phone, he stares at both of the dresses for a cool minute before nodding his head, “The white one.” He leans back with one arm on the bed and both legs spread apart (gosh him and his manspreading).

“I thought so too!” You happily say and carelessly toss it into the pile of clothes lying in your open suitcase, “Okay now help me decide between my sneakers or my ballet flats?” He doesn’t even answer cause he’s busy laughing at something on his phone.

“Jungkooookkk,” you huff irritably but this man does not look up. He just toys with his stupid lip ring while smiling down at his screen.

You let the shoes hit the ground as you quietly saunter over, slipping right into his lap with practiced ease. He doesn’t react because this is an all too familiar scene for him. He hooks his arm around your waist and tucks his chin over your shoulder, still scrolling mindlessly. “What’s up? Hm.” He murmurs.

“I needed your help choosing which shoes I should take.” You hide your face in his neck and lay one tiny kiss on it, “You’re mean.”

“Am I?” Jungkook brings you down with him when he slowly lays back on the bed. He tosses his phone somewhere and rests his arm behind his head. His free hand strokes your backside, cheekily stopping right above your ass before repeating.

Your hands settle over his toned stomach where his shirt has ridden up revealing his beautiful physique underneath. His damn Calvin Klein boxers hug him just right too, hanging low over his hips where a small amount of hair leads down…you know where..

“Mm-hm, ‘s not nice to ignore me.” You nod with a dreamy look, pillowy lips pursed (which make them much more alluring in Jungkook’s humble opinion).

Jungkook hums again and runs his hand over your ass, landing small little pats of appreciation here ‘n there, “It isn’t huh,” he trails off quietly while tattooed fingers make work of the bow tied around the front of your shorts.

You shake your head and come down so that you’re chest to chest with Jungkook, face leveled with his as the two of you stare into each other's eyes. “No,” you softly say, nimble fingers creeping under his shirt to trail up his middle with light feathery touches.

“No.” He softly mimics in a high-pitched tone that’s meant to sound like you, “You’re so fuckin’ cute, but you might wanna get a move on though cause the guys are gonna be here any minute now ‘n you don’t want them to come in and see what a desperate little thing you are? No huh,” he mock pouts while tapping your cheek.

“You’re mean! I’m not talking to you for ten whole minutes.” You huff angrily and get off his lap, “Stop laughing, it's not funny.” You’re whining again before you can even stop yourself. It makes him double over in laughter, shoulders shaking and all too.

“My bad, my bad, I didn’t realize you were still upset over the shoes.” He chuckles while sitting back up with messy hair, “C’mere I’ll make it better.” He waves his hand, “C’mere! I’m not joking!” He laughs because you look at him incredulously.

You fold your arms over your chest and turn away, “No, I have to pack remember?” You’re shoving clothes into your suitcase with a quiet huff.

“Yeah, yeah.” You don’t even notice when he comes up behind and hauls you up into his arms. Jungkook tosses you on the bed like nothing causing you to yelp in surprise as your body bounces off the mattress a little, “If I give you a kiss will you quit your fuckin’ pouting?” He smirks.

You nod vigorously, “I want one here, here, and here.” You tap different areas on your face.

“I said one, not fucking five,” he snorts while peppering your face in small smooches regardless because he could never resist a pretty girl like you, “dumb little thing you are.”

“They don’t count as real kisses.” You smugly reply.

Jungkook smirks, “Oh, and what does hm? Give your Jungkookie a kiss and show me.” Without hesitating you wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips to his.

You’re lips locked, softly moaning as he kisses the fuck out of you. It’s the way his lips glide over yours so smoothly like you’re meant to be kissing. All you can really do is dreamily sigh while his tongue runs over the seam of your lips. Of course you let him in and the kiss gets filthier if possible.

You feel his hand slide up your back slowly until he’s hooking his finger under the strap of your flimsy sleep top. He watches in hunger as your tit slips out from under the top, perky nipple already hard as he leans down to wrap his lips around it. The pleasure is hot when his tongue presses down on the bud, he has you whimpering quietly while burying your fingers through his hair.

“Mmm–Jungkook, wait,” you breathlessly sigh while pushing his face away, “Sujin.” You softly say while playing with his hair, “What ‘bout her?”

Jungkook stares back up at you through hooded eyes, “Who?” He replies to which you grin back, “Hm, just let me enjoy your tits in peace.” He crudely mumbles before taking your nipple back into his hot mouth.

He fondles and squeezes your other tit while sucking on your rather sensitive teat. The heat between your legs is unbearable, Jungkook knew damn well why you hated having your nipples played with yet he carried on without a care. Your poor clit throbbed from neglect and your pussy was slicking up by the second, you fear a glob would slip out if he dared to switch your positions.

“J-Jungkook..!” You huff and press your thighs together hoping to alleviate some of the heat.

He pinches hard causing you to whine, it doesn’t stop him because he’s then using a hint of teeth on your sensitive bud. “Oh..!” Your mouth falls open and your back arches off the bed, thighs shaky and wobbly.

Jungkook pulls away with a string of slick connecting to your nipple, “Turn over baby,” he smacks your ass hard and jiggles your cheek, “arch that pretty back for me, yeahh like that—low.” He darkly comments while watching you turn over with your hips raised high and front flat to the bed.

He shuffles around and gets behind you holding you steady with a hand to your hip. “Pull ‘em to the side,” he says while lazily pushing his sweats down, shoving them low enough till they’re right under his balls, “How desperate are you, hm? How bad do you want this cock baby?” He grins while slapping the tip through your dewy sticky folds.

You bite your lip and reach behind you to hold yourself open for him, “Bad, need it so bad Jungkookie..feel so empty without it.” You pout while pushing back until his cock gets trapped between your thighs, the thick shaft pressing right up against your throbbing little clit.

“Yeah?” Jungkook licks his lips, “Gonna let me have it?” He murmurs as his cock slides through the mess between your thighs, globs of slick coating the shaft.

“Mm-hmm.” You nod.

“Mm-hm.” Jungkook smirks as he lands a rough smack to your ass, “Push me in baby.”

You reach back to rub his cock through your folds, tapping the tip against your needy hole until it catches. Your breath hitches as the tip pops in, he doesn’t make a move to shove himself deeper or anything—he stays perfectly still.

“Jungkook!” You turn to glare back at him, “S-Stop teasing me.”

“I’m not doing anything, if you want it you know what to do.” Jungkook grins while biting his lip, “You know what I wanna see baby, don’t play dumb.”

You grumble under your breath and slowly push your hips back until your ass meets his pelvis. There’s a low squelch as the rest of his cock slips in and as much as you would’ve loved for him to fuck you, this was also good. You pant hotly into the pillow and wiggle around with soft little ‘mm’s as Jungkook rubs his hand over your hip and holds you steady.

“There you go, bring it back for me,” he huskily mumbles while watching the ripple of your cheeks jiggle each time your ass meets his pelvis.

Little clapping noises begin to rise subtly as your pace gets quicker and quicker. You meet him thrust for thrust, there’s a low fopping sound as his balls make contact with your puckered lips, pressing right up against you each time you bottom out.

Jungkook’s eyes are glued to the sight of your pretty pink rim hugging his cock tight each time he backstrokes. His cock is covered in a sheen of slick and he swears every time he pushes back in he comes back out with more.

“So messy,” he lays his thumb over your other puckered hole, “hear that?” He grunts, “Sloppy lil cunt taking me so well, got you creaming for me.”

Jungkook’s breath hitches when his thumb accidentally slips through the tight barrier and into your ass. You loudly mewl and buck your hips in surprise, it doesn’t hurt but it feels weird..weird in a good way though.

“Oh, you like that don’t you?” He licks his lips, “Baby loves having her holes filled up doesn’t she?”

You moan in response and bury your face in the pillow with muffled cries. The pleasure shoots up your spine and has you curling in on yourself. Your cunt throbs like crazy now and everything somehow feels ten times better than before.

“Answer me.” Jungkook slaps your cheek rather hard.

“Mmph–y-yes..!” You whimper despite the pillow being in your mouth.

“Yea,” he laughs as he suddenly snaps his hips up, “you love it don’t you? Can’t get enough of this cock.” He plows into you with repeated thrusts, each one jostling you up the bed and sending you into a pleasure hazed mind.

Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as Jungkook grips you by the hip with one hand and slams you back onto his cock. Your toes curl from the intensity of his cock slamming into your g-spot while his thumb fills your ass. The heat coiling in your tummy has you squirming and whimpering.

“Too much? Where you goin?” You don’t realize you’re actively moving away from him till his cock threatens to slip out, “You can take it baby, don’t run.” He laughs low while dragging you right back onto his cock.

In fact he follows you down till you’re laying flat on the bed and his thumb slips out of your puckered hole, “Gonna cum? Hm?” He lays flat over your back and hooks his chin over your shoulder, “C’mon, don’t go stupid on me.” He smacks your cheek gently a couple of times.

“Yes..!” You gasp breathily, “S-So, so close..” Your voice sounds wobbly and garbled, and the shaking in your thighs doesn’t stop.

Jungkook coos, “So close,” he buries his face in the side of your neck and leaves marks of his own there, “go on, cum on this dick.”

Your lips part and you let out a high-pitched mewl, your pussy spasms around him with your cunt squeezing and massaging his cock. Your eyes slip shut and you slump against the bed with a whine, the orgasm took the life out of you.

“Fuuckk,” he sighs as he slows down, grinding his cock in and out of the mess between your thighs, “good girl,” he groans softly until he comes to a stop and stills.

His cock throbs and twitches, spurt after spurt of cum filling you to the brim. You can feel some of it slide out with globs of your own slick. Jungkook hums deeply and gives your ass a pat of appreciation, “Shower?” He asks softly.

“Mm-hmm.” You nod still face down in the sheets.

“Mm-hm.” Jungkook copies while laughing to himself as he slips out of your cunt with a lewd squelch. You don’t even have the energy to fight with him right now, you’re just ready for bed at this point.

+

You can’t help the little yawn that escapes as you turn your face to tuck yourself into Jungkook’s side. Whose idea was it to take a roadtrip to Busan, you don’t know but you’re barely even awake after that rough fucking.

You and Jungkook had opted to sit in the back away from everyone and enjoy each other’s company instead. Jungkook’s hand came to rest over your thigh like that’s his permanent spot.

So far the ride is peaceful, Yoongi’s managed to successfully get you all out of the city and onto the highway (thanks to Namjoon’s excellent navigation skills). In front of you Jimin’s knocked out while Taehyung watches something on his phone. Namjoon’s talking with Yoongi about something you can’t bring yourself to care for.

You can feel your eyelids getting heavier by the second and it feels like you’re about to slip into the best sleep ever when Jungkook stops you. Not literally, but it still feels like it with the way he slides his hand up your bare thigh.

“Hm?” You sleepily look up wondering what on Earth he was up to now.

Jungkook pats you, “C’mere, want you on my lap baby.” He mutters as quietly as he can.

You rub your eyes and slip yourself on to his lap, tucking your chin over his shoulder and squeezing your thighs on either side of him. God bless that you chose to wear your thin sleeping shorts and slutty juicy sweater, Jungkook can just about feel your perky tits through the soft material.

“Shh.. not a peep or else I’m gonna gag you with your panties.” He mumbles low in your ear, stroking over your back to keep you calm.

“Jungkookie–”

“Jungkookie needs you to shut the fuck up, can you do that for me?” He squeezes your ass and kneads both cheeks rather roughly, “Good girl.”

“If they look, I’m not stopping. So if I were you I’d keep quiet baby, unless you want Joon and them to know how much of a cock hungry slut you are.”

He sounds so fucking calm but his words are the complete opposite, you find yourself holding in your desperate whines. “Can you..?”

“Can I what?” He slips his hand under your shorts and tugs it to the side alongside your panties, “Hm?”

You bite your lip and lift your hips, “Want something in me, I feel so empty Kook..” You breathe out and wrap your arms around his neck.

Through the drowsiness you faintly make out his soft curses as he whispers under his breath. Jungkook pokes at your slit and slips his fingers through your messy folds.

“Take my cock out,” he mumbles and you happily reach between the two of you to slip your hand into his sweats.

His cock throbs when your soft hand wraps around it, he has to bite his lip when you dig your thumb into the slit and swipe over the messy head. “Don’t tease..” He grunts with a small sharp smack to your ass.

You lift your hips and with his help manage to slip his cock through your dewy folds. You blindly slap the tip against your slicked up hole, the tip catching on your rim.

“Slow,” he sounds calm and collected but the way he swallows harshly tells you otherwise.

You bite your moans back and push yourself until your ass is meeting his thighs. The heat in your belly pools and your poor clit throbs. Is it you or the car feels hotter?

You hide your face in his neck and suck over old and new hickeys you’ve left these past days. Jungkook relaxes into the seat and sighs, luckily it doesn’t sound like it’s out of the ordinary.

“You can sleep now.” Jungkook off-handedly mumbles while closing his eyes, leaving you utterly speechless. You’re not entirely surprised given his little track record of being mean and shit.

“G’night..” You softly mumble and kiss his cheek, you lay your head on his shoulder and close your eyes. Maybe if you’re a good girl he’ll make you cum later on..yeah, that sounds amazing, you smile in your sleep and drift off into dreamland with a cunt full of cock.

.

“So hot..” You softly mumble while fanning yourself with a make-shift fan.

Everyone but Namjoon went out today to explore the town and shit. You opted to stay back and wait for the sun to die down to go out later. Namjoon said something about keeping you company so you didn’t mind.

Here you are laying on the ground with your legs thrown up on the couch over Namjoon’s lap. Your pretty babydoll dress rides up your thighs and you occasionally catch Namjoon’s gaze drifting down. What a sight is it to see—veiny big hands plastered over your soft ankles toying with your cherry charm anklet.

“Namjoon, if penguins are related to the bird family, how come they can't fly?” You softly say while looking at him through your lashes.

“I dunno,” He shrugs while stroking over your foot, “environmental and evolutionary reasons maybe?”

You pout and tilt your head back to watch the TV, “I think they’re cute.”

“Why don’t you find one and give it a kiss then?” Namjoon smirks in amusement, “Maybe Jungkookie can save you if it tries to attack you or something.”

“Not funny.” You whine kicking your sock-clad foot at him, but he catches it and tugs on your foot.

You squeal softly as he ends up dragging you upwards just a tiny bit, “Owie let go, you’re squeezing my freaking bone.” You giggle.

Namjoon lets your foot go with a laugh, “My bad, my bad.” He raises his hands in surrender, “You can tell your Jungkookie to kiss it all better when he comes back yeah?” He grins.

“Ugh you’re also mean.” You huff while sitting up feeling light headed cause you were laying on the ground for so long. “You and Jungkook.” You mumble and climb onto the couch with him.

Jungkook finds you two like that. You’re tangled up with Namjoon side by side, legs thrown over his lap as he strokes over your soft thigh. Namjoon’s mindlessly scrolling through his phone and you’re just you watching some animal documentary on the TV.

“Hey.” Jungkook greets while falling on another sofa.

“Back already,” Namjoon hums, “where’s the others?”

“Out, they went to the beach cause Jimin wanted to go. It was fuckin’ hot so I came back, we didn’t do much but walk around the tour shops and shit.”

You lift a leg in the air to admire your pretty anklet, “Did you bring me anything?” You softly ask.

“Yeah, it’s in the bag.” Jungkook replies calmly as he fishes his phone out and does whatever the hell he usually does on that thing.

With both men preoccupied with their phones you decide to head outside to sunbathe. God bless the airbnb for having a private pool. “Where you going?” Jungkook mumbles, not looking up from his screen.

“Sunbathing.” You curtly reply and head outside through the large patio doors.

It’s hot as hell but you don’t care as you kick your socks off and strip out of your babydoll dress. You happily lay your towel out on the grass and set up a mini umbrella. Once you're happy with your setup you lay on your back and slip your heart shaped glasses on.

You can hear Namjoon and Jungkook talking in the background faintly, something about Sujin but you honestly don’t bring yourself to care much. Along the lines Jungkook mentions Sujin texting him again, Namjoon says “oh shit really” and then Jungkook tells him everything.

“..giving… chance… again..?” You can’t make out the entire convo. You crack a slow smile and turn over on your belly, legs kicked up and your feet in the air as you call out to the boys.

“Can someone bring me my phone?” Your voice soft and velvety, you slip your glasses up on your head and flutter your lashes, “Please?”

Jungkook stops talking and looks over the coffee table before stepping out with your phone in hand. “Look at you all cute and shit, enjoying your sunbathing?” Jungkook asks as he squats down in front of you.

“Yep, it’d be funner if you and Joonie joined me though.” You softly hum while tilting your head up and letting Jungkook lay a kiss over your soft lips.

“Yeah..?” He murmurs low. It’s glaringly obvious you have this man wrapped around your little fingers. It’s like you didn’t even have to try with him.

“I’ll be right back.” He says and disappears into the house.

You roll over on your back with a satisfied smile, slipping your glasses back on as you hum, “The boy is mine, I can’t wait to try him,”

+

Maybe Jungkook’s the one trying you right now. It’s not even nine am yet..

Your thighs encase his head like a pair of soft earmuffs, he’s got his tongue dipped between your messy folds with your pussy stuffed in his face. Jungkook doesn’t seem to care though, he’s got his strong big arms wrapped around your thighs as he holds you down and makes you take it.

Your clit’s just as sensitive as every other part of you, and Jungkook just loves to make you shake. He traces the tip of his tongue over your sensitive bud, flicking it back and forth with quick strokes. It has your lips parting and your head leaning back from the cloudy pleasure.

“Oh..” You roll your hips upward into his eager mouth, something that greatly pleases Jungkook.

He slips his tongue lower and flicks it upward to get a taste of all that creamy slick gushing from your empty cunt. You slap a hand over your mouth and whimper when he goes back to your poor clit. This time though he wraps his lips around it and gives it a harsh, mean suck.

Jungkook flicks his dark eyes up to look at you, just watching as you lose yourself on his tongue. The way your tummy goes taut and your body stiff when he grazes his teeth over your clit sends a dark thrill down his spine. He wants to see more, so he’s going to get more.

“J-Jungkook!” You cry out as he stuffs his fingers knuckle deep into your pussy.

There’s a loud squelch each time he slaps his fingers up into your greedy cunt. Your pussy’s literally leaking as small dribbles of squirt oozes out with each passing second. You’re shaking, thighs struggling to stay open and not clamp down on his head. Your lower half shakes slightly from his rough movements and your pussy makes these nasty wet sounds.

“Wait,” you sob and reach down to grip his hair, “ ‘m so close..! P-Please, please,” you’re not sure what you’re begging for—go, stop?

The heat in your tummy builds quickly and you’re teetering on the edge of a powerful orgasm when he suddenly stops. All at once both his fingers and mouth are gone as he pulls away while harshly panting. You can’t even complain but the intensity has your heart racing with excitement and fear.

“Okay?” He quietly asks while stroking your thigh gently.

You take a couple of seconds to catch your breath, meekly nodding as you bite your lip, “ ‘m okay.” You softly reply.

He climbs up the bed and hovers over you, necklace dangling in your face as you stare up at him with glossy eyes. “Kiss?” You softly say while parting your pillowy soft lips. He’s very much happy to oblige of course..

You lazily make out, your lips feel swollen and they’re glossy from spit. He doesn’t let you pull away, he’s quick to chase after your lips and reel you back in with a hand to the back of your neck. His hand tightly grips your hair and teasingly tugs because he knows you’re a little slut for it.

You moan into his mouth and needily press yourself closer to him, hooking your thigh over his hip just so you could press your needy pussy against him. Everything feels hot and you don’t like it, Jungkook’s not helping with the way he drops his other hand down to your ass cheek, gripping it tight and using his grip to yank you even closer.

Body to body, you’re rolling your hips up to feel the tent in his boxers. It’s mouth watering when the curve of his thick cock presses into your inner thigh, so close to where you need him the most..

Jungkook tightens his grip on your hip, it’s bruising even as he presses himself into you and rubs his cock over your soaked pussy. The rough friction has your toes curling and another needy gasp escaping. He pulls away from the kiss with a wild look in his eye, he pants quietly as he shoves his boxers off and tosses them somewhere.

“Hold yourself open for me baby,” he holds his heavy cock in his hand, stroking over it slowly as he looks down at your glistening cunt, “just like that..” He mumbles darkly.

You hook your arms around your thighs and pull them up to your chest so that your pussy is laid out bare for him. You bite your lip in anticipation and try your best to stay still when he taps the tip over your swollen clit.

“Look so pretty like this,” he muses as he slips his cock in inch by inch, “prettier down here too.” He grins as he lays his thumb over your clit and rubs it side to side slowly.

You let out a long “mm” as his cock fills you over and over again, filling you in the right places combined with his gentle strokes over your clit. He’s got you dripping even more as his cock re-surfaces covered with your creamy slick.

Jungkook rolls his hips into yours slowly, you can hear the quiet grunts and moans slip from his lips as he remains focused on the spot where you’re connected. His face is scrunched in pleasure, and his thumb becomes jerky as he messily swipes over your bud.

You get the urge to ride the fuck out of him, he’s been nothing but doting and now you want to return the favor. Always the giver but never the receiver, and you’re going to change that.

“Jungkookie,” you softly sigh as his eyes snap up to your face, “wanna ride you,” you pout, “can I pretty please?” You purposely squeeze around his cock as he back strokes slowly.

“Yeah,” he softly breathes out and lifts you up into his lap as he switches places with you.

You huff as his cock somehow slips deeper in the new position, “No, you lay back and let me do it.” His eyes widened slightly at your demanding tone, “I wanna make you feel good too..” You pout and wiggle around in his lap.

Jungkook bites his lip and lets his hand fall to your thighs, “Fuck–okay, yeah,” he lays his head back on the pillow and swallows harshly as you smile down at him and lay a soft kiss on his lips.

“Fuck,” he groans when you turn around in his lap to ride him reverse cowgirl. He lays his hands over the fat of your ass and smacks each cheek repeatedly while you grind yourself in his lap.

Your moans spill from your lips as you arch your back and roll your hips back and forth. Behind you Jungkook sounds like he’s having the time of his life as he holds your ass tightly in both hands. The noises he makes only fuel your desire more as you rock yourself in his lap.

“Mm–fills me up so good,” you tilt your head back with a teasing smile, “can feel it so deep in my pussy.”

Jungkook growls low and spanks you harder, “Yeah? You like knowing you’re the only one taking my cock like this huh,” he smirks, “ ‘s all yours baby.”

You huff softly and look at him over your shoulder with puppy eyes, “Mine only.” You nod, “Not hers,” you roughly slap your hips back, catching him off guard as he grunts, “Right?”

“Only you.” Jungkook sighs as he tugs you back so that you’re grinding over his cock the way he likes, “Always yours.” He murmurs.

You smile happily and begin bouncing in his lap, your ass claps against his pelvis as low fopping noises build up. The bed creaks a little and your skin smacks together as you get a little wild with it.

Your moans rise in volume alongside his as the two of you lose yourselves in your rough fucking. Your pussy clamps down when the tip of his cock brushes over your g-spot repeatedly. You have to put your hands on the bed for support as you whimper and grind quickly on his lap.

“F-Fuck..” You whimper low as your thighs begin to tremble again.

Jungkook throws his head back with a low groan as he holds your hips tightly, “Fuck keep going baby, almost there,” he whispers breathlessly, “you can do it.”

You let out a cry and slam yourself on his lap until you go still as your orgasm hits you out of nowhere. It’s mind blowing as your cunt tightens up and a wave of hot pleasure comes crashing down on you. You shake in his lap and whimper out a garbled version of his name.

Jungkook quietly moans as he holds you still and bucks his hips up a couple of times until he’s filling you with his cum. His cock twitches and pulses through his orgasm, dully reminding you that you’re on planet earth still and you need to come down from your high.

“My pussy hurts.” You softly whine while looking back at him.

“My pussy hurts,” he mocks softly, “but who just got the dicking of their life hm? You did.” He pokes your cheeks and brings you back so that you’re laying with him, “You okay?” He chuckles.

You hide your face in his neck and nod, “Nap now, food later?” You softly ask.

“Yeah, I like the sound of that.” He grins.

TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @lilliankoo @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar @saweetspoiled @laylasbunbunny @prettyprincejk @cherrysainttt @hyunjinswifeee @joongraduatewithonor @hellbornsworld @leire-mia @m1sss1mp @lissful @winkii @lifeless-firefly @exactlygreatcoffee @taestoess @ayalies @floweryjeons @softtcurse @lilspinachwrld @tearyjjeon @littleobsessedkitty @lovelovelovebts @angeljmnie @rerefundslocals @bangtans-mama @thvhoe @maddkitt @tvse @ohjeon @teteswtnr @jkslovey12 @kelsyx33 @milfpo1ice @sluttydidi @ztyur @beomgyuult @shescharlie @sweet-sourhotcoco @lalita-7 @hazzzelsdimension @p34rluv @kook-net @bonita0-0 @vmapy @dahliadaenerys @frieschan @lilyflowerguk @sayokodiary @babycandy111 @looneybleus @ash07128 @gyukookswhore @rrosiitas

[143bwi]

Don't forget UNRWA schools and facilities housing thousands of displaced Palestinian have been attacked by the Israeli army.

By accusing the UNRWA of taking part in the Oct 7th assault, the Biden administration is justifying those brutal attacks on civilians (just like when he lied about seeing pictures of the debunked 40 beheaded babies)

[143bwi]

i love bein on this app. dnt nobody know me. dnt nobody care what i be doin. peaceful

[143bwi]

a new year without you

(happy new year everyone!! 🥳)

btw i also made a vid edit with the song that inspired me to make this: here 🫶

[143bwi]

Ginoza Nobuchika | Psycho Pass Providence

#PAUSE PAUSE PAUSE

[143bwi]

hes so bubba wubba pookie wookie

[143bwi]

๛ 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎

[ Jujutsu Kaisen S2 EP13 ]

[143bwi]

𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐥

part six.

sorry for the late updates, i’ll make it up to y’all with more updates. fr this time😭.

conniexreader, the usual, alcohol, weed, mentions of violence

part five here | part seven here

two weeks later, no contact.

not like you cared, or expected anything. but it was strange. a little. you bit the inside of your cheeks, zoning out as you did your makeup. you haven’t been to a party since you went to connie’s house, simply because you needed time to yourself and you didn’t wanna have to fight a bitch again.

finishing up your makeup, you picked out your outfit. “shit ion feel like dealing wit these hoes.” you whispered to yourself while putting on your heels.

you put your jewelry on, which normally you wouldn’t do if you knew a bitch was gonna try you that same night. but you didn’t feel like fighting. really.

you made your way downstairs and to the front door, opening and closing it behind you as you left your house. you locked it and unlocked your car, putting on lip gloss as you opened your car door, putting your phone in the cup holder and getting yourself situated.

you left after a few seconds of contemplating on whether you should go to the party or stay home and not worry about anything else.

but to not miss out on anything, you looked at onys location to see where the party was.

even as you made it and stepped out the car, you still wasn’t in the mood. you barely made it to the front porch where people were drinking and smoking before you were greeted by a cheesing sasha and mikasa.

“girl what’s wrong, you ain’t in the mood?” sasha looked at you with her hands on your shoulders.

“at all.”

“we might have to find connie to straighten up that attitude.” mikasa mumbled, passing you a drink. “now sip. you’ll feel better sooner or later.”

you hummed, knowing you shouldn’t be, but drinking as you walked through the front door. there wasn’t anything morally wrong though, so there was nothing to feel bad about really. as soon as you made it to the living room where your group always was, you realized that it would’ve probably been the best choice to just stay home at that point.

because right in front of you sat eren, armin, jean, ony, and last but not least?

connie.

“wassup y/n. this ony and connie. i know y’all met before.” eren mumbled, rolling up a blunt. you slowly nodded. “hey ony. again.”

ony laughed a little. “wassup friend.”

it seemed like connie caught on to your little ‘joke’ because he looked up at you from his phone with dead eyes. you finished your drink and put it on the table, still staring at him before smiling a little.

connie smiled a little and shook his head, standing up and stretching. “we bouda go smoke, we’ll be right back.” he said, signaling you to get up and follow him.

even though you felt sasha and mikasa poke your waist as you stood up, you really had no intent to fuck him again. it couldn’t keep happening every week if there was really nothing going on between you, and you didn’t wanna be anybody’s fuck buddy either.

you almost didn’t even wanna go, but you were already following him to the backyard, so that was a mess itself.

“you know you play a lot.” connie slowly shook his head, lighting a blunt.

“some days.”

“you been actin’ weird.” he said, sitting in a chair near a table. you sat in another chair. “i wouldn’t want yo lil girlfriend tryna beat my ass again.” you stared at him while propping your leg up comfortably in the chair.

“that bitch ain’t my girlfriend.”

“bitch? y’all was just flirting. i’d hate for you to start talkin’ bout me like that.” you frowned a little.

connie only sighed and put the blunt out in an ashtray. “ion even feel like smoking no mo’.” he whispered to his self. you didn’t care though. you wouldn’t just wanna and up as one of his hoes that he used to fuck when he got bored.

“i’m just sayin. i don’t wanna be somebody that you just think you can play with til you feel like you done wit them. cus i know you got hoes on the side.” you rubbed at your freshly done nails.

“you sayin that like you my girlfriend.” connie raised his eyebrows and looked at you.

you didn’t wanna be labeled as his girlfriend, you didn’t care much about that girlfriend boyfriend shit that much. you just didn’t wanna be someone he thought he had access to anytime he wanted.

“it’s not about that. you not finna fuck me whenever, then get tired and walk around talking about me like you talk about her.” you furrowed your eyebrows in irritation. connie could sense your attitude. and you didn’t even know you got one at that moment.

“im not finna talk about you in no kinda way. she can’t even compare to you, so why you so damn worried bout the way i talk about her, let alone her in general?”

you just sat back and crossed your arms, looking away. you thought it made you look sick and tired of his bullshit, but to connie, you looked like a pouty child who couldn’t get what they wanted.

you thought about when he said she couldn’t compare to you, but you were too mad to pay any attention to that anymore.

what you did pay attention to was the sound of connies laughing.

“fuck funny?” you squinted.

“you cute when you act like that.”

he wasn’t telling the full truth. yes, you were cute when you got all mad, which is why he never had a problem with you being mad at him or anybody else. but it wasn’t the full reason he was laughing.

“i’m bein’ serious connie.”

connie’s eyebrows raised again.

“hol up, say that again… i like when you say my name.”

you smacked your lips, about to get up, but he started laughing again and stopped you. “okay my bad ima stop messin witchu.” he held your hand, looking at your nails.

“you got a big ass attitude problem… like a baby or sum.” connie intertwined your fingers with his and looked at you. “no. people just be pissin me off.”

“you ain’t act like this when we met.”

“i had the time and energy when we met. now shut up talkin to me.” you scratched your head, starting to get irritated again.

the peace was almost there. you were almost calm. but that same girl from about three weeks ago had to mess shit up again. like always. coming from around the corner, seemingly with her best friend or something, she stopped at the sight of you and connie.

connie didn’t budge, he didn’t care.

“every time i get around connie, he wit’ the same girl.” she pointed at you. “ain’t that the girl you fought?” her friend asked.

she was speaking like you wasn’t even there. you just stared at the girls, leg still comfortably propped up, because she can have one best friend but you got two that’s always ready. “to be honest, ion even know why the fuck i came to this party cus’ if i handle these bitches, i’m goin to jail.” you said, looking up at the sky, you let go of connie’s hand, standing up, about to walk back inside the house.

“naw bitch don’t be tryna leave cus i got my friend, now what?”

“girl fuck you and yo’ friend. ‘fuck? you got yo friend cus i beat the hell outta you? go get yo momma or sum.” you rolled your neck with a scoff, continuing to walk towards the door.

sasha, seemingly hearing all the commotion, which wasn’t even mainly you, the bitch was just screaming for no reason.

sasha opened the door. “what happened?”

you ain’t even feel like saying nothing no more. “Paris fuckin wit y/n, again, and y/n ain’t in the damn mood.” connie sighed, standing beside you and rubbing your back to calm you down. “don’t you think you need to get your bitch?” sasha squinted.

“that ain’t my bitch, damn. ion even want that girl, ion know why she trippin over me.” connie slowly shook his head.

sasha smacked her lips as mikasa walked outside behind her. soon came the rest of the group, seeing what’s going on.

“girl you need to find you sumn else to do, for real.” mikasa walked up to Paris and her friend. “aw now she wanna bring her friend” she mumbled to her best friend. “i got girls here too so ion really give a fuck.” Paris stared at Mikasa.

you stared from a distance before Paris’ friend looked at you. “now you back there lookin scared and shit. bitch ain’t shit wrong wit’ you, so why youn wanna fight now that i’m here?” she looked around mikasa.

you were quiet. you were quiet because you started feeling that one, dumb drink you had, come to you.

“leave me the fuck alone. you dumbass bitch! ima sicka these dumb bitches… fuckin’ wit me like i really wanna be seen fighting these dumb hoes!” your words were slurred. it was like you was throwing a tantrum. you went from laid back to sick and tired.

“stupid bitches i’m tired’a this shit!” you leaned down and quickly kicked off your heels, throwing em to the side.

“wassup?! bitch wassup?!” Paris’ friend walked around mikasa. and mikasa didn’t stop it because jumping was dumb. unless it was planned by you, her, and sasha.

“don’t even do it bruh.” connie held your wrist.

you snatched it away. “no, get the fuck away from me! i’m tired of these dumb bitches acting like i’m fuckin scared of them! bitch i ain’t scared of you!” you yelled, walking over to her friend and posting up. “swing bitch.” you mumbled, waiting for her to do something.

she kicked off her slides and before she could even swing, connie snatched you back by your forearm. “bring yo ass on bruh.” he frowned. “you drunk.”

he picked up your heels and continued to block you from the girl and the girl from you.

“naw that bitch always wanna try me i will kill that hoe!”

“kill me bitch! try it!”

the yelling went back and forth, and sounded horrible from the slurring of your words. it got to the point where connie had to literally drag you by your waist to not get to that girl.

connie took you to your car, of course after almost begging you to show him where it was.

connie pushed you against the back of the car, holding his hand out for your key. you stared at him through your lashes, barely being able to open your eyes. you reached for your keys that were placed in the side of your outfit, by your waist.

it seemingly slid down your whole jumpsuit from your upper thigh and to your ankle. you tried to wiggle the keys out. connie sighed and grabbed your leg, you leaning on the car, pushing the keys out of your pants part.

you still had that pouty look on your face. connie unlocked the car and tossed your heels in the back. “come on.”

you lazily walked to the passenger side with a frown.

“the other side.” he said.

you sighed deeply, not even trying to put up with him. you walked to connie’s side to get in the backseat, pausing to look at him. he really didn’t care about the look on your face. you sat in the backseat, connie closing the door behind you. you didn’t even have time to process your thoughts. you really couldn’t.

connie sat in the front seat and closed the door, not even bothering to start the car.

he pulled out his phone and let the seat back a little, resting his arm behind his head and scrolling.

“ion wanna stay in this car.” you mumbled, reaching towards the door. it locked before you could get out.

“you gon stay in this car until you fix yo attitude.”

#characterization is eaaaattttinnnggggg #connie #aot

[143bwi]

𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐥

part six.

sorry for the late updates, i’ll make it up to y’all with more updates. fr this time😭.

conniexreader, the usual, alcohol, weed, mentions of violence

part five here | part seven here

two weeks later, no contact.

not like you cared, or expected anything. but it was strange. a little. you bit the inside of your cheeks, zoning out as you did your makeup. you haven’t been to a party since you went to connie’s house, simply because you needed time to yourself and you didn’t wanna have to fight a bitch again.

finishing up your makeup, you picked out your outfit. “shit ion feel like dealing wit these hoes.” you whispered to yourself while putting on your heels.

you put your jewelry on, which normally you wouldn’t do if you knew a bitch was gonna try you that same night. but you didn’t feel like fighting. really.

you made your way downstairs and to the front door, opening and closing it behind you as you left your house. you locked it and unlocked your car, putting on lip gloss as you opened your car door, putting your phone in the cup holder and getting yourself situated.

you left after a few seconds of contemplating on whether you should go to the party or stay home and not worry about anything else.

but to not miss out on anything, you looked at onys location to see where the party was.

even as you made it and stepped out the car, you still wasn’t in the mood. you barely made it to the front porch where people were drinking and smoking before you were greeted by a cheesing sasha and mikasa.

“girl what’s wrong, you ain’t in the mood?” sasha looked at you with her hands on your shoulders.

“at all.”

“we might have to find connie to straighten up that attitude.” mikasa mumbled, passing you a drink. “now sip. you’ll feel better sooner or later.”

you hummed, knowing you shouldn’t be, but drinking as you walked through the front door. there wasn’t anything morally wrong though, so there was nothing to feel bad about really. as soon as you made it to the living room where your group always was, you realized that it would’ve probably been the best choice to just stay home at that point.

because right in front of you sat eren, armin, jean, ony, and last but not least?

connie.

“wassup y/n. this ony and connie. i know y’all met before.” eren mumbled, rolling up a blunt. you slowly nodded. “hey ony. again.”

ony laughed a little. “wassup friend.”

it seemed like connie caught on to your little ‘joke’ because he looked up at you from his phone with dead eyes. you finished your drink and put it on the table, still staring at him before smiling a little.

connie smiled a little and shook his head, standing up and stretching. “we bouda go smoke, we’ll be right back.” he said, signaling you to get up and follow him.

even though you felt sasha and mikasa poke your waist as you stood up, you really had no intent to fuck him again. it couldn’t keep happening every week if there was really nothing going on between you, and you didn’t wanna be anybody’s fuck buddy either.

you almost didn’t even wanna go, but you were already following him to the backyard, so that was a mess itself.

“you know you play a lot.” connie slowly shook his head, lighting a blunt.

“some days.”

“you been actin’ weird.” he said, sitting in a chair near a table. you sat in another chair. “i wouldn’t want yo lil girlfriend tryna beat my ass again.” you stared at him while propping your leg up comfortably in the chair.

“that bitch ain’t my girlfriend.”

“bitch? y’all was just flirting. i’d hate for you to start talkin’ bout me like that.” you frowned a little.

connie only sighed and put the blunt out in an ashtray. “ion even feel like smoking no mo’.” he whispered to his self. you didn’t care though. you wouldn’t just wanna and up as one of his hoes that he used to fuck when he got bored.

“i’m just sayin. i don’t wanna be somebody that you just think you can play with til you feel like you done wit them. cus i know you got hoes on the side.” you rubbed at your freshly done nails.

“you sayin that like you my girlfriend.” connie raised his eyebrows and looked at you.

you didn’t wanna be labeled as his girlfriend, you didn’t care much about that girlfriend boyfriend shit that much. you just didn’t wanna be someone he thought he had access to anytime he wanted.

“it’s not about that. you not finna fuck me whenever, then get tired and walk around talking about me like you talk about her.” you furrowed your eyebrows in irritation. connie could sense your attitude. and you didn’t even know you got one at that moment.

“im not finna talk about you in no kinda way. she can’t even compare to you, so why you so damn worried bout the way i talk about her, let alone her in general?”

you just sat back and crossed your arms, looking away. you thought it made you look sick and tired of his bullshit, but to connie, you looked like a pouty child who couldn’t get what they wanted.

you thought about when he said she couldn’t compare to you, but you were too mad to pay any attention to that anymore.

what you did pay attention to was the sound of connies laughing.

“fuck funny?” you squinted.

“you cute when you act like that.”

he wasn’t telling the full truth. yes, you were cute when you got all mad, which is why he never had a problem with you being mad at him or anybody else. but it wasn’t the full reason he was laughing.

“i’m bein’ serious connie.”

connie’s eyebrows raised again.

“hol up, say that again… i like when you say my name.”

you smacked your lips, about to get up, but he started laughing again and stopped you. “okay my bad ima stop messin witchu.” he held your hand, looking at your nails.

“you got a big ass attitude problem… like a baby or sum.” connie intertwined your fingers with his and looked at you. “no. people just be pissin me off.”

“you ain’t act like this when we met.”

“i had the time and energy when we met. now shut up talkin to me.” you scratched your head, starting to get irritated again.

the peace was almost there. you were almost calm. but that same girl from about three weeks ago had to mess shit up again. like always. coming from around the corner, seemingly with her best friend or something, she stopped at the sight of you and connie.

connie didn’t budge, he didn’t care.

“every time i get around connie, he wit’ the same girl.” she pointed at you. “ain’t that the girl you fought?” her friend asked.

she was speaking like you wasn’t even there. you just stared at the girls, leg still comfortably propped up, because she can have one best friend but you got two that’s always ready. “to be honest, ion even know why the fuck i came to this party cus’ if i handle these bitches, i’m goin to jail.” you said, looking up at the sky, you let go of connie’s hand, standing up, about to walk back inside the house.

“naw bitch don’t be tryna leave cus i got my friend, now what?”

“girl fuck you and yo’ friend. ‘fuck? you got yo friend cus i beat the hell outta you? go get yo momma or sum.” you rolled your neck with a scoff, continuing to walk towards the door.

sasha, seemingly hearing all the commotion, which wasn’t even mainly you, the bitch was just screaming for no reason.

sasha opened the door. “what happened?”

you ain’t even feel like saying nothing no more. “Paris fuckin wit y/n, again, and y/n ain’t in the damn mood.” connie sighed, standing beside you and rubbing your back to calm you down. “don’t you think you need to get your bitch?” sasha squinted.

“that ain’t my bitch, damn. ion even want that girl, ion know why she trippin over me.” connie slowly shook his head.

sasha smacked her lips as mikasa walked outside behind her. soon came the rest of the group, seeing what’s going on.

“girl you need to find you sumn else to do, for real.” mikasa walked up to Paris and her friend. “aw now she wanna bring her friend” she mumbled to her best friend. “i got girls here too so ion really give a fuck.” Paris stared at Mikasa.

you stared from a distance before Paris’ friend looked at you. “now you back there lookin scared and shit. bitch ain’t shit wrong wit’ you, so why youn wanna fight now that i’m here?” she looked around mikasa.

you were quiet. you were quiet because you started feeling that one, dumb drink you had, come to you.

“leave me the fuck alone. you dumbass bitch! ima sicka these dumb bitches… fuckin’ wit me like i really wanna be seen fighting these dumb hoes!” your words were slurred. it was like you was throwing a tantrum. you went from laid back to sick and tired.

“stupid bitches i’m tired’a this shit!” you leaned down and quickly kicked off your heels, throwing em to the side.

“wassup?! bitch wassup?!” Paris’ friend walked around mikasa. and mikasa didn’t stop it because jumping was dumb. unless it was planned by you, her, and sasha.

“don’t even do it bruh.” connie held your wrist.

you snatched it away. “no, get the fuck away from me! i’m tired of these dumb bitches acting like i’m fuckin scared of them! bitch i ain’t scared of you!” you yelled, walking over to her friend and posting up. “swing bitch.” you mumbled, waiting for her to do something.

she kicked off her slides and before she could even swing, connie snatched you back by your forearm. “bring yo ass on bruh.” he frowned. “you drunk.”

he picked up your heels and continued to block you from the girl and the girl from you.

“naw that bitch always wanna try me i will kill that hoe!”

“kill me bitch! try it!”

the yelling went back and forth, and sounded horrible from the slurring of your words. it got to the point where connie had to literally drag you by your waist to not get to that girl.

connie took you to your car, of course after almost begging you to show him where it was.

connie pushed you against the back of the car, holding his hand out for your key. you stared at him through your lashes, barely being able to open your eyes. you reached for your keys that were placed in the side of your outfit, by your waist.

it seemingly slid down your whole jumpsuit from your upper thigh and to your ankle. you tried to wiggle the keys out. connie sighed and grabbed your leg, you leaning on the car, pushing the keys out of your pants part.

you still had that pouty look on your face. connie unlocked the car and tossed your heels in the back. “come on.”

you lazily walked to the passenger side with a frown.

“the other side.” he said.

you sighed deeply, not even trying to put up with him. you walked to connie’s side to get in the backseat, pausing to look at him. he really didn’t care about the look on your face. you sat in the backseat, connie closing the door behind you. you didn’t even have time to process your thoughts. you really couldn’t.

connie sat in the front seat and closed the door, not even bothering to start the car.

he pulled out his phone and let the seat back a little, resting his arm behind his head and scrolling.

“ion wanna stay in this car.” you mumbled, reaching towards the door. it locked before you could get out.

“you gon stay in this car until you fix yo attitude.”

[143bwi]

𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐥

part five.

conniexreader, smut, talks of not committing, weed, mild alcohol.

first of all, i’m sooo sorry to the people that was waiting for this, i know i took so mfn long to update 😣.

part four here | part six here

youn know exactly how you ended up how you were, but you did. still in connie’s room, lights were still low, but how’d you end up kissing him? and mumbling unknown things in his ear? you’d never know.

you could say you both were high, which you were, maybe you were still a little drunk, since you wasn’t mad about the situation earlier that night. but it was midnight now, and man did you want him. man did he want you.

“damn you smell good.” connie huffed quietly against your neck. you slowly nodded. “mhm..” you hummed back quietly. you couldn’t bare the feeling of wanting him so bad. you don’t know where it came from. he grabbed another blunt as you rubbed the back of his neck softly, your nails grazing his soft, dyed hair. it seemed as if it was growing fluffier than it was supposed to.

he lit the blunt and held it in his mouth for a few seconds before exhaling through his nose, and taking it out. “turn around ma. lemme show you sum.” he mumbled. you bit your lip and turned around, getting in just the right position for connie to mess with the waistband of your skirt a little before unzipping the side part, pulling it down.

“you like blue?” connie smiled a little, eyes already getting low from the second blunt. “a lil.” you lazily mumbled, feeling him run his hands down your waist, between your thighs to spread your legs a little further.

“me too.”

without any warning, other than him moving your already soaked panties to the side, you felt him slowly start to slide himself in, your eyes slightly widening at his size. “what the fuck..” you whispered while biting your lip.

“i almost forgot how big it was.” you mumbled, feeling him thrust himself slowly inside of you, stretching you out by the second. “i almost forgot how tight this shit was mama.” connie muttered back, taking another hit of the blunt before speeding up.

“mmh… yeah..” you let your eyes roll to the back of your head as connie continued to thrust his dick inside of you. “shittt…” you moaned softly, your face falling into the sheets and your hands almost hurting from the force you were gripping the sheets with.

“you like that? huh?” connie breathed out, grunting at every few hard thrusts, digging his nails into your hips. “you like the way we fuck, ma? hm?” he said in a low tone. you, practically overflowing with pleasure, could barely reply. “i.. ah..” you tried your best to speak.

connie then came to a stop. “come on pretty… i gotta hear yo whiney ass voice.” he chuckled a little, putting the blunt aside in the ashtray and focusing his attention merely on you. he put his hands back on your waist, rubbing over the soft scratches he caused.

“yeah.. mhm…” you finally managed to push out. “good.” connie said before finally starting to thrust into you again. “ha.. ugh… fuckkk..”

“damn i want you bad.”

too distracted to reply to comprehend what connie said, you nodded quickly. “mhm.. faster, please..” you softly moaned. that sent him over the edge. he started to fuck you faster, and harder. moans and grunts filled the room as connie pushed your back down a little more.

“i been thinking bout this pussy since the day we first fucked, ma…” he mumbled. you couldn’t even reply before your legs started to rapidly shake, nearly giving out. “fuck.. i hate you..” your brows furrowed as connie pulled out, panting.

“crazy, you was just sayin please.” he said under his breath while grabbing a shirt to clean you off. you rolled your eyes and stayed quiet for a moment, standing up.

“it ain’t mean nothing.” you said, fixing your clothes. “when you taking me home?” you sat back down and looked up at connie. “you ain’t staying?” connie frowned a little, tossing the shirt in the laundry basket. “you never said i could. and ion got no clothes.” you stared at him. he smacked his lips. “girl.” he opened a drawer and threw you one of his shirts.

“no pants.” you raised an eyebrow at him. connie frowned a little. “i just seen yo goodies— twice, and i can tell youn sleep in pants. you still drunk or sum?”

“is that supposed to be an insult, connie?” you squinted.

“why you sayin my name?”

“why you tryna insult me?”

“i’m not, y/n.”

you stared at connie again for a few seconds before rolling your eyes at him. “ion know which one of yo hoes you talk to like that, but ian one of em.”

he smiled a little at your statement. “you tryna act hard? ion got hoes.”

you took off your crop top and put connie’s shirt on. “nigga ian dumb. you expect me to believe im the only one you took home in this week?”

he stayed silent, staring at you, making you go silent too, almost nervous to speak. “you got a bad ass attitude problem.” he said while slowly shaking his head. “yo boyfriends don’t be telling you that?”

“no. they bitches.”

“i bet they is if they let you talk to them like that.”

you got quiet again. what was this boy doin to you? it’s like you never really had a man tell you what to do, let alone act like this.

“why you quiet now?” connie chuckled a little before laying across his bed. you smacked your lips. “cus i wanna be. don’t act like you did sum.” you crossed your arms and looked away.

connie laughed at your statement. “you funny as hell. you really ain’t never had one of yo boyfriends tell you what to do?”

“i’m not finna let a nigga tell me what to do.” you furrowed your eyebrows. connie opened his mouth to say something, but he stopped his self. it seemed like he was gonna say something more attacking.

“you still ain’t tell me bout that last relationship.” he said, turning over on his back. you crossed your legs and turned to him. “why you wanna know so bad?”

he just shrugged. “i like talking.”

you sighed longingly. that was the only way to pass time if you were gonna be here for the whole night. “he was a bitch, that’s all.”

connie rolled his eyes. “bruh, i know you can tell me more than that. what was he doin’?”

“i told you what he did. he was manipulative as hell and acted like sum was wrong wit’ his ass.” you looked at your nails. “and then he was cheating and stuff. ion like that.”

connie slowly nodded. “uh huh. how long was y’all together for?”

you laughed. “man. like what… a year? and then that’s when shit started going bad. like… five months ago was when we broke up, but he still be tryna stunt like we cool when i already told him we wasn’t getting cool again after all that shit he did.”

“you ain’t block him?”

“haven’t thought about it. i’m used to it now, but niggas get irritating after bothering you for a long time when you gotta constantly remind them you don’t want nothing to do wit’ em.”

“why you ain’t try to get wit’ nobody else? i mean i know you said sum bout how you don’t do relationships no more but still.” he tilted his head a little.

you raised your eyebrows. “ion like males no more. they annoying. no offense to you cus’ you chill. but it’s like… every time i get with one, they show me why i shouldn’t— the main reason why i broke up wit’ em.”

connie clicked his tongue and put his hands behind his head. “man… i just think you gotta give it some time. like you can’t hate every guy because the ones you be wit don’t treat you right. maybe that’s just ya type?” he pursed his lips together.

“maybe it is. i’m not patient when it comes to guys. like i want what you say you gon’ give me right away. i don’t know what it is.” you mumbled. “i guess i’m just used to when guys just automatically treat me with everything i want as soon as they get wit me. so when i get in a relationship that i have to wait and like… take the bare minimum and then get what i want, it’s weird.”

“so basically you sayin you so used to gettin what you want all the time, you can’t even do normal things in a relationship without wanting to get spoiled and shit?”

your eyes nearly widened at the realization that connie knew exactly what you were talking about. the way he bumped it down to such a smaller explanation. it’s like he simplified your thoughts without even trying.

you smiled softly with a slight frown, brushing your fingers through your braids. “that’s exactly what i was talkin bout.”

“i know what you mean. you too used to over the top shit and you can’t really have a normal relationship. that’s the way girls be doin me.” he slowly nodded, closing his eyes.

“you don’t like girls like that?” you slightly frowned.

“sum like that. ion like females that be tryna force me to do over the top shit. especially when we just got together or especially when they just wanna fuck wit the money. especially when i’m tryna be in a real relationship.”

you bit your lip a little and nodded.

“but i can tell you don’t do that on purpose so ain’t no hard feelings on you. you just needa be taught patience and shit. cus you ain’t hard for real.” connie scoffed. you raised a brow. “what you tryna say?” you tilted your head.

“girl you know you soft. i can see it in yo eyes, ma.” connie poked the center of your forehead.

you flicked his finger and hummed.

“i bet you can.”

i’m back after 10 light years. hope u liked.

tag: @laylasbunbunny , @iqzo