high connie. that’s it, that’s the post.
𖦹 translations: estas bien?/you good? | cariño/darling | mi amor/my love
𖦹 cw: high!connie x reader, contains nsfw
high!connie who gets touchy, and needy when under the influence.
“why you so far for?” connie questioned you. seeing you in nothing but his large t-shirt and boxers was doing something to him. his eyes were so low that he could barely see you, but he could make out your figure from across the room.
“cariño, i’m right here.” you reached out for his hand, to which he grabbed it, kissing all over the back of it, to your tattooed fingers, to your palm and wrist. it was now your turn to question him. “estas bien?”
he nodded, and whispered nothing but three words as he tugged on the oversized shirt you were wearing, with an intoxicated, metal-mouthed smile.
“take this off.”
high!connie who loves when you feed him snacks he gets for his munchies. he finds it weird, sober or not. you find it cute, on the other hand, so everytime he hands you an opened bag of trolli sour gummy worms after he gets high, you know exactly what to do.
“thankkk you, mi amorr.” connie chuckled, licking the rest of the sour powder off of your index and thumb fingers.
“mhm.” you replied back, kissing his currently blue raspberry flavored lips.
high!connie who loves how you dig your nails into his back when he has your legs on his shoulders, LED lights on red, fucking you to sandra’s rose by drake. any other time you two would fuck off a blunt, he’d be gentle, easy with your body. something must’ve been in the weed, because this specific time the headboard was banging so roughly into the wall you thought you’d have to call maintenance for the apartment you lived in, in the morning. the tip of his dick was punching your cervix with every harsh thrust he fed you, knocking the air out of your lungs.
“con-“ you said incoherently, resorting to slapping onto his back in an attempt to get his attention. “connie, im finna cum-“
yet again, due to a moan being forced from your throat, you couldn’t finish your sentence. he was hitting your g-spot as if there was no other spot inside of you to hit, guiding you to the orgasm of your life.
but, he answered you, in a gentle, quiet, cooing tone. “go ‘head, mami. nut onnis dick.” his hands that were on either side of your head moved down to press on your lower stomach, enhancing the pleasure indescribably.
you started to pant hoarsely, jaw slackened and legs shaking. he took this as an opportunity to shove his thumb in your mouth, swirling it around, under, behind your tongue. he slid his slender, soft finger out, dragging it down your body before pressing it on your clit, rubbing it in small, firm circles.
high!connie loved how you looked when you came, it being the most gorgeous sight on earth. some nights, he kept you up only to make you cum over, and over, and over. he couldn’t get enough of how your face contorted into one of pure ecstasy when you reached your climax. knowing he was the one making you feel this good, sent him onto a cloud higher than the one he was on.
high!connie who would agree to let you wear his chains when you rode him. everyone knew connie’s chains were the most dear to him, which is why you wouldn’t dare to ask him to even take them off if you two were fucking while he was sober. you loved the way they dangled in your face, anyway. but, when he was high, saying ‘yes’ to things was more common, even if it took a little bit of persuasion. he adored the way his chains sounded, the silver and diamonds clinking together while he bounced your hips up and down on his dick.
high!connie who you had to take care of when he greened out after eating an entire edible. he had high tolerance, but this night, he pushed his luck— and his body— farther than was able to contain. next thing you knew, he was kneeled over the toilet, emptying his guts while you were rubbing his broad shoulders with either of your hands, encouraging him and telling him that he’d be okay.
he sat up, still holding onto the toilet. “never gettin’ fuckin’ high again.”
“so, this mean i can smoke the rest of the weed?” you chuckled, already knowing the answer to this question.
“fuck no.” connie responded, sternly.
high!connie who also loved getting high on the taste of you. he’d have you ass up, face down, eating you out as if his life depended on it. his flexible, long tongue knew no boundaries, going from twirling it around your clit to tensing it and thrusting it in and out of you. your eyes rolled into the back of your head when he slid his thumb into your smaller, pulsing hole right as he flicked the tip of his tongue sloppily across your button. you couldn’t control yourself, or even warn him, and gushed every juice you had onto his face. this seemed to motivate him further, and he continued what he was doing, despite your cries and very guttural sounding moans.
high!connie who loved to cuddle with you after watching a movie that he knew would trip him out. he’d rant about how surreal everything looked as he laid his head into your chest. you played in his hair as he did so. touching his hair was also one of the things he wouldn’t let you do if he was sober, but obviously, since he was high, it was alright. your nails gently scratching his scalp would send him into a deep sleep. and just like that, he’d become your 6’5, 200 pound weighted blanket.
“never lettin’ you get high again.” you groaned, as you tried your best to pull the comforter up onto both of your bodies.
you also simultaneously knew that was a lie. you loved a sober connie, a drunk connie, and especially a high!connie.
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