the music had the house vibrating, you could hear chatter from people passing the very door you were behind. you should feel guilt and shame, yet you loved it. when it was only you and eren it never failed for trouble to come. the dynamic of the group was simple, you all were together. but if you had to pick your bestie, it’s always gonna be eren. “good girl ma’ma” you hummed around his balls. your nails digging into your thigh to compose yourself. you panties stuck to your pussy, they were soaked, the white fabric having a visible spot. your tounge moved up his cock racking every curve and vein. when you got to his tip you looked him in his pretty green eyes and sucked him in. your cheeks hallowed, and a giggle bubbled in your throat when he threw his head back.
“swear m’fuckin the shit outta both of yall” you both seemingly ignored connie, he couldn’t do anything at the moment but watch in the dark car as he was doing. you both knew there was a large punishment coming, and it only made the act better. bobbing your head up and down eren; you closed your eyes taking in the burn of your throat. tears came to your waterline, and just as your began to go up for a little air, because eren was always the sweetest one- you were stopped. at the soft but roughness of the hands, and the subtle yet strong smell of cologne that you would recognize anywhere, you tried to think of how you didn’t realized it before.
connie laughed in the back, weighing the weed and looking at the bright facetime screen. yea, ony had left the call seconds after seeing what you two were doing how you snuck to a party, but how did he know? “no keep going baby, show daddy how bad you are” your throat burned more as ony pushed eren fully into your mouth. you gaged, spit spilling from the corners of your lips.
you could also feel a small cut forming from how wide your mouth was, but that’s nothing medicated chapstick couldn’t fix. through your teary eyes you looked up at eren, while he wanted to be scared he couldn’t. he was getting overstimulated, his tips was leaking with pre cum, balls full and heavy rubbing against your chin. he couldn’t look at you, just closing his eyes and letting his pretty moans out .
he bit right next to his lip ring, his cock jerking in your mouth, and his own hand grabbing at your head to keep you stead and fuck his dick into your throat. you were a toy, and you loved it. ony was now bent next to you, his hand gripped the back of your neck, and his lips kissed your ear, his other hands went under the short white skirt and rubbed slowly on your clit groaning at the feeling of your wetness. “you looks so pretty suckin dick princess” moaning you closed your eyes and pressed your thighs together.
“aht at” he growled pushing your thighs apart again, and slapping your pussy through your panties. you moned around eren, body jerking at how good the slap felt. you were so dizzy from wanting so much. wanting to cum, wanting to taste cum, wanting to get fucked in every hole.
“make em cum so i can take you home fuck that pretty pussy” your eyes opened slowly starting up at eren who was in his own world. “then ima make eren clean you up. cum in your pussy and have him suck it out, you like that?” you gargled on your own spit and mix of cum. you felt lightheaded, tears continued to fall down your cheeks dampening your bottom eyelashes.
“then connie’s gonna fuck him while he fucks you” his words came out growling, you heard connie humming in the background as onyankopon fingers continued to work on you clit building up the anticipation of cumming more and more. eren’s moans got deeper, his hips worked faster, his thumb rubbed at your cheeks, as he incoherently praised you in rambling you couldn’t understand. but you felt his balls scrunch and the cum drip into your mouth making you instinctively swallow. onyankopon’s hands stilled, his focus on watching your drink up both of your boyfriends cum.
“g-good girl” eren stuttered out, his hair was stuck to his face, eyes closed and cheeks pink. ony just watched you both, a smirk on his pretty features that you both should’ve been scared of. “meet at house in fifteen” he said out loud breaking the comfort of the silence. you both knew who he was talking to, and when connie replied with “heard” and a small chuckle he left the call. leaving you and eren to look at one another with wide eyes.
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬◞﹒୧. Onyankopon was a bit foolish to introduce his cute autistic sister—you—to Connie. You were a literal princess who deserved all his care. The most beautiful girl ever in his eyes, and he had no shame breaking Ony's rules to make you his girlfriend. Ony thought he had managed to protect you from his criminal friend, but for years Connie had been secretly coming at night to make love to you. Like tonight.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬◞﹒୧ . 2.5k words, black!fem!reader, plus!size!reader, hyperfeminine nonverbal autistic reader, sign langage, hispanic!connie, plug!connie, fluffy smutty fic, established relationship, forbidden love, stoner!connie, tattooed!connie, pierced!connie, affectionate!connie, check ins, sensory seeking needs, hyposensitivity, ‘mami, baby, princesa’ pet names, feet kissing/toes sucking, fingering, cunnilingus, choking, vaginal penetration, missionary with legs on shoulders, kisses.
𝐤𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬◞﹒୧ . first mini connie fic, i wanted something cute!!!! i have a longer one in my wips, hehe… hope you will like this <3
The sounds of the game Detroit Become Human lulled Connie into a high. Even Eren's grunts when he made a choice that would negatively impact the story were like a sweet melody accompanying him as he floated, staring at the ceiling with glazed over eyes. Everything was perfect; he was so relaxed he wasn't thinking about the addicted clients he'd have to serve tomorrow, or how hard Ony would beat him if he knew how he was going to make his sister cum tonight.
He glanced down the stairs, alerted by your footsteps, as if you were divinely connected. His eyes followed you down with your tablet, wearing a pale pink leggings and vest set from I AM GIA. No one in your family knew, but Connie had bought it, and he felt hot just thinking you were wearing it on purpose because he was there. You looked like a pilates princess, and your vanilla scent filled the room as you approached your brother's group of friends, making Connie intoxicated, as always.
Everyone greeted you except Connie, who must play it cool as if his dick wasn't making regular in-and-out motions inside you at least four times a week. As if his heart wasn't beating, his body wasn't breathing for your beautiful, sparkling brown eyes.
You glanced at Connie, smiling shyly as if he were a stranger and not your boyfriend of several years. It was a shame your overprotective brother was in the room; you would have loved to get down on your knees to kiss the tattoos on his stomach and take his pierced dick in your mouth, turned on by his dark streetwear outfit, contrasting with your pink one. He looked like a bad boy, but the only bad guy here was Eren; Connie was a loverboy. He returned your small smile by discreetly patting the spot next to him. You sat down next to him, pleased because you thought he was looking at the drawings you were making on your tablet, but the truth was that Connie was staring at your thick thighs, which had tripled in size in your seated position. He remembered what it felt like to have them trembling around his head and adjusted his sweatpants so his erection wouldn't be noticeable. He took out his phone. You had to know.
“I want to be inside you.”
Concentrated in your digital art and oblivious to the tension, your stylus stopped drawing, your eyes rereading the message in confusion.
‘In a food, stabbing, or sexual way?’ You sent.
Connie giggled softly when he received the notification. You and your autistic brain that takes everything literally. Dirty talk was a pain in the ass with you.
“All three. Your beauty stabs me, I want to eat you up to have you inside me, and I want to fuck you.”
“That’s something Chikage from Hakuouki would have said.”
“Who is this nobody from another otome?”
“Speak of my husband with respect.”
“Your real future husband is right here, princesa,” he whispered in your ear. You shivered at the sensual intonation of his voice, as close as you were, your body overheating at the thought of tonight. You checked that no one was looking in your direction so you could sign “I hope so, but you know it’s not possible.”
Connie didn’t lose his sweet expression, still a playful glint in his eyes. He placed his hand on your thigh to grasp the soft flesh. “Ony will have to kill me with his own hands to prevent our future together. Even my spirit will haunt him. He can’t do anything to me.”
You quickly brushed his hand away, heat rising to your neck and burning your cheeks.
Your relationship consisted of three things: acting like goofy fools together, him playing the hero of forbidden romances, and him making love to you passionately and tenderly.
Being with Connie was like living a real rom-com, even though he was a drug dealer.
You were writing a new message. “I’m going to leave you, you make my head boil.”
He laughed softly. “Since when does my girl understand metaphors like that?”
You playfully punched him and signed “I’m not a walking autistic cliché.”
“Yes, you are. Look at what you sent me a few minutes ago.”
You ignored him and went back up to your room and once at the top of the stairs you gave him the finger and he just gave you his stupid smile with his red eyes because of the weed.
──────── 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭,
Connie walked into your room, immediately ripping off his hoodie and t-shirt and throwing them on the floor, revealing his fully tattooed chest and abdomen. Filled with designs you'd done, like the rose that started its stem on his hip and whose petals touched his ribs, the soft style of the tattoo contrasted with the harsh lines of the ink. But Connie loved it. It was like having you and him inside him, on him, for him.
'Heaven or Las Vegas' by Cocteau Twins played softly in your room as you sat at your vanity. The dream pop song made Connie, who was stoned out, drift even further into the psychedelic atmosphere. You detangled your hair with hair milk, separating it into four twists—two in the front on each side, two in the back—so it would be easier to manage tomorrow when you went to get your hair braided by your favorite braider, who didn't charge an entire month's salary for long knotless braids. Connie admired the goddess who was his girlfriend for a long time, licking his lips as he noticed you were wearing that Savage X Fenty pale rose nightgown, which was sheer, with a ribbon bow at the center of your chest.
“Mami, I missed you,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around your neck and burying his face in your scalp, inhaling the scent of rosemary mint from your Mielle hair oil, castor oil, and shea butter from your Skala leave-in conditioner. He bought that one for you after seeing a TikTok about a Brazilian influencer with the same curl pattern as you recommending it.
With your hands manicured in a French manicure, you used sign language to communicate “We saw each other earlier,” with a roll of your eyes.
“I know, but I’m obsessed with my princess.” He kissed the back of your neck, his cuban accent adding charisma to his voice.
His desire, love, and passion for you, dripping from his voice, made you feel all giddy and fuzzy in your stomach. You smiled shyly at him in the mirror of your heart-shaped vanity.
“Don’t smile like that,” he said softly, almost desperately, his red eyes and dilated pupils even more affected by your little smile. “You’re so gorgeous in this.” He played with the thin straps of your nightgown. “But I’m sure you’re even prettier without them, aren’t you, baby?”
Shyly, you ignored his compliment and finished styling your hair before protecting it with your satin bonnet, the same color as your wardrobe, before getting up to hug Connie. Thinking he wanted to make love now, you led him toward the bed, but Connie spun you around.
Chuckling, you understood he wanted to dance and followed him, as the dream pop song stopped to make way for “Punch Drunk” by Sade. A wordless jazz track, purely instrumental, that made you feel like you were in an old jazz bar with your secret forbidden lover.
His hand on the small of your back, Connie made you dance, roaming around your room, laughing when you bumped into furniture because the space was small, kissing you when the saxophone was more intense than ever. He took advantage of the kisses to move his hands up and caress the voluptuous curves of your chubby body. Your fat ass, which he gripped even though you tried to push him away, the pudginess of your belly that he loved to feel under his fingers, and your ample breasts that rose and fell rapidly before him because of your barely concealed desire.
“Use your voice, what do you want?” he teased, knowing damn well you had nonverbal autism.
You glared at him and tried to push him away, but he threw you onto the bed.
“Aww, I’m such a bad boyfriend, I have to make amends for my crimes.”
He removed the rest of his clothes, keeping his black boxer briefs on for now. He stayed on his knees on the bed as you lay there, resting on your elbows.
You nodded at what he said and lifted your legs to place your French-manicured foot on the center of his collarbones. Connie smirked, knowing what you wanted.
He took your foot in his hands and kissed it all over, from heel to toe, appreciating the softness of your skin as you had just come from the shower where you had exfoliated. He wrapped his tongue around your toes, then sucked on them, his gray eyes fixed on you, a fire igniting from your core and spreading through your body.
You wanted this, you needed this. You gave him your other foot where he did the same, little shivers running through you at the movements of his tongue on your skin. Your breathing quickened as his lips moved up your leg, venturing under your nightgown. You couldn't see Connie because of your chubby belly, so you lay fully on your back, staring up at the ceiling. Not being able to speak or see him should have made your sex life difficult, but it was quite the opposite. Connie regularly checked for your consent and comfort; your nonverbal communication wasn't an issue. You tugged at his hair to let him know you liked what his tongue was doing, and you patted his shoulders to tell him to pause because the wave of overstimulation was near. As for the details—how fast or slow to use his tongue, which spot to lick—Connie paid close attention to your breathing and the way your thighs clenched around his head to gauge whether he was doing a good job.
“I’m gonna keep this on you,” he breathed, liking the lacy pink panties you were wearing. He pushed it to the side, his warm breath on your cunt, in need for attention.
The music switched to “Iceblink Punk” by Cocteau Twins, and the combination of the psychedelic sound and Connie’s tongue plunging into you was surreal. You felt like you were floating high in the sky.
Connie was truly gentle, slow, and calm when he was eating you out. Eating pussy was an art, and he was the Mozart and Shakespeare of the field. He took his time pleasuring you, smiling because even when you couldn’t speak; you didn’t fake your panting. The warm metal ball of his piercing kept rolling around your throbbing bud, just to feel your legs tremble, but his tongue explored every corner, collecting your arousal in his mouth. He was even disappointed you'd just showered, because it lacked flavor. He was a perverted loverboy like that, yeah.
Lapping through wet folds, he groaned every time he felt the pulse of your pussy in his mouth. His hands gripped your thick hips, making them grind against his face, to guide you, to show you it was okay to do that, because your autism sometimes made you a motionless robot during sex.
“You’re okay, baby?” he asked softly, reassured when you stroked his scalp to say yes.
After a comfortable rhythm of hip movements settled in, he removed his hands and sank his fingers inside you, all the while sucking your clit. A searing, burning sensation in your lower abdomen, almost setting your whole being ablaze, as you pulled at his short hair that had grown since his buzzcut to indicate to him that the combination was perfect.
When you reached your peak, there were no dramatic expressions or noises, just Connie nearly choking as you pushed your pelvic floor into his head and painfully squeezed your thighs around him.
“Still in a hyposensitivity mode?” he whispered, as he managed to pull away from your grip.
You nodded, catching your breath. Connie was always attentive to your autistic sensory needs, especially when you were in a sensory-seeking mode, or a mode where your sensitivity was low and you needed a lot of stimulation, like now.
He removed his underwear, nudging your entrance with his pierced tip as he laid down on you, putting all his weight on you. You were crushed by him, but it was perfect. To further satisfy your sensory needs, he wrapped his hand around your neck, squeezing comfortably. It was the perfect combination of pressure for you.
“No tits touching?”
You shook your head. Sometimes, you needed a lot of stimulation while simultaneously hating stimulation somewhere.
He leaned down to kiss your neck. “Okay, mami. Gonna take of you, now. Do you feel my piercing?”
He slid his pierced dick through the folds, still not entering for the moment. Your hands caressed his back, digging your nails into it to communicate that yes, you feel it, and you like it. He groaned, placing more passionate open-mouthed kisses on your skin. He pushed his hips, your warmth welcoming him like a king. He smiled against your skin hearing your usual gasp when his full size was inside you.
“Can’t handle these inches, huh?” he teased, sucking your earlobe. “You’re gonna take this dick anyway. Too bad for you, princesa.”
He leaned back to see your eyes widening every time he penetrated you. He moved his hips backward to let you breathe and pushed back in.
“Why is she wetter than usual?”
He looked at your slick cock, which covered his face with awe.
You pointed at his red eyes. His smile widened.
“Are you turned on by my stoner self? You’re so cute.” He kissed you, his tongue entwined with yours. You breathed softly into the kiss, overwhelmed by him, his dick, his affection.
He slipped his hands under your bent knees and placed them on his shoulders. The position you were in made it impossible for him to hide your belly rolls under your sheer nightgown. He looked terrifying with his low groan and his eyes dilated by weed and your beauty, staring at your curves as if he wanted to devour you whole. He wrapped his hand around your neck again, to your great pleasure. He increased the speed of his thrusts, panting above you, obsessed with the sight of your eyes rolling back when he touched a sensitive spot inside you.
A fever rose in your belly; you were embarrassed to come so quickly again, but every movement of Connie's was precise and deep, so he chuckled when he felt your legs clench his head once more.
He kissed your forehead.
“My baby is needy tonight.”
You nodded, cuddling him, pleading with your eyes to go even faster and harder.
He gladly spent the whole night taking care of you like he always does. Because that’s the thing about Connie: when his princess wants something, he’s going to give it to her. Even if his best friend, your brother, would kill him if he knew.
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Summary- Little boy, it was the nickname you gave Connie. He was the little kid on the block, the one who always got picked on, poor little Connie. So, of course, you were surprised when you came home to see that little Connie wasn't so little anymore.
A/n: When I processed I hadn't posted any Connie I had to get to work. So here's a little idea I had, enjoy!
CW- Mature content/ explicit sexual content, reader viewed as a stallion(not explicit), past bully! Reader, pet names & name calling(eg.., big head, Ma/mamas, pretty girl, etc), Spanish from google translate(unfortunately), not grammatically correct, ignore errors(im sleepy), dirty talk & praise(English & Spanish), mild build up, Connie w/ tattoos & a nose piercing, Connie w/ glasses, risky sex, public sex, backshots, condomless sex(wrap yo shit), P in V, rough sex, ass slapping, not the longest smut, slightly edited, etc.
“You ain't nothin’ little boy.” You’d tease Connie whenever you beat him at something, which was most things. He was a good sport even when you’d brag and taunt him every time he lost.
Your brother wasn't known as the cool boy on the block, making you the cool girl on the block. Using your brother's status as an advantage was already amazing, but the fact that you were taller than most boys on your block made you a reigning supremacy.
Out of the several kids, you chose Connie to tease the most. You couldn't recall the reason, maybe because he seemed the most vulnerable. He was the new kid in the neighborhood, the smallest, and most anxious of every other kid.
No matter the reason, you chose to pick at him the most, from how short he was to how bad he was at basketball, and never left a chance to tease him past you.
You’d push him down on the trampoline for the pure pleasure of it, claim the only swing he could get on for the pure pleasure of it, ruffle up his freshly cut hair for, you guessed it, the pure pleasure of it.
All your teasing was for the pure pleasure of feeling superior, was it toxic, and questionable? Yes, but that was your reason, to feel like the boss and it was easy to be the boss of Connie.
After six years of your torment, when you were both around thirteen your parents decided they were leaving for a better place for you and your brother to have better chances in life.
It wasn't a bizarre decision, your neighbor was beaten down, the streets laced with danger, the schools were barely holding themselves together, and crime rates were rising month by month. However, you and your brother didn't want to leave, you both protested for weeks, wanting your parents to cave and get rid of the decision but nothing worked, and you found yourself leaving your home of thirteen years.
“Guess you're leaving now, huh?” Connie walked up to where you were sitting, taking a seat on the concrete beside you.
“Yep.” You nodded, eyes pinned to the ground.
“Dang, who's gonna call me big head and tell me a suck at everything now?” His knee nudged yours, his sarcastic words being an attempt to cheer you up a bit.
You giggled, a smile cracking through your frown.
“I don't know, maybe one of the boys will take my place.” You tilted your head towards him and surprisingly, he looked disappointed himself.
“None of them will do it like you though.” He mumbled, locking eyes with you with a small pout on his lips.
“Nope, they won't. Can't do it like me.” You huffed out a laugh and he smiled.
“You know,” you started, “you need to stand up for yourself. I'm the only one allowed to push you around, don't let them do it. Got it?” He seemed surprised by your words, his eyes squinted in confusion for a second before he nodded.
“Got it.”
“Good.” You said with a shove of his shoulder. Yeah, you weren't going to change and maybe he liked that.
“{#}!” You moms voice rippled through the air.
“Gotta go to Virginia I guess. See you someday, ‘kay?” You stood up unwillingly, then holding out your hand for him to grab
“Yeah, someday.” He took your hand and lifted himself.
The silence fell over you two for a second, just eye contact with faint smiles tracing your lips. Hand in hand, eyes connected, and a silence that spoke for itself.
Then your mom shouted again.
With one last nod, you ran off to the truck. He watched the whole process carefully, never stepping away from his spot. He watched the car ride off, he watched you wave through the window one last time, he watched as you slowly turned back into your seat, and he watched the car fade in the distance till he couldn't see it.
Little Connie should have felt relief but he didn't, he felt like he had lost one of the only things important to him. Yeah, you were his bully but you were the only kid who actually spoke to him, even if you teased and poked at him, you were the only one he could spend time with.
So watching you ride off into the distance ached his heart in ways he had never felt before, he asked himself if it's what your heartbreaking felt like. Wondered what life would be like with you being miles and miles away from him, he couldn't bear the thought. So, he let go of the heavy feelings and ran back into his house, hoping to forget you.
When you rode out to your neighbor you couldn't help but drop one tear, just one. The only place you ever called home was vanishing right before your eyes, all your friends, your childhood home, and even Connie.
People always told you that you chose to bully Connie because you had a crush on him, you never believed it but as you felt that strange clenching feeling in your chest as you watched Connie’s face fade away told you otherwise. Maybe you did have a crush on him, is that why you chose to pick on him? To deny your feelings for him?
Even if that's what it was, it was too late.
You weren't ready to lose it all, everything you had ever known, and you were being dragged away from it. It was cruel and wrong, you spent weeks crying and begging to your parents to get that point across, trying to convince them that they couldn't take you away. It never worked, they wouldn't budge even when they saw the pain it brought you, you didn't believe their excuses, ‘it’s for the better’, ‘it’ll be good for you’. You didn't care, it was wrong and selfish, you could bet they were only doing it for their own pleasure.
That day you vowed, you’d be back one day.
—
You and your brother rode the streets of your old neighborhood, following the sound of the boisterous music blasting through the streets.
After your graduation, you and your brother arranged to visit your old neighborhood for the memories. It had been several years, both of you had finished college, both of you had jobs and were earning a good salary, which made you wonder what your old friends and family were up to.
As you rode down the street you gazed out of the window, the old corner store that was next to the liquor store, the random beaten-down old sheds, the small schools somehow still standing, your old house, your friends' houses, and Connie’s. Seeing his home, two cars still parked in front of it, made you wonder where’d he go in life. Did he take your advice, did grow a pair, what did he do all these years?
Your mind was flooded with questions, but it slowly began to drift when the music led you to a small gas station. The vibration of ‘Call Back’ by Don Toliver, pulsed through the ground. The area was lively, the constant motion of people dancing, the sounds of them chatting and singing with music lit the atmosphere.
Then you spotted him, or someone you thought was him. He was taller and lean, not short skin and bones, Connie. He had a white hood draped over his head with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket, glasses with a small but noticeable tattoo under his eyes.
“Is that Connie?” You lifted to get a better look as your brother drove into the space.
“Who?” You piqued his interest.
“Standing by the door.” You pointed in his direction, and your brother's eyes darted over.
“Nah, Connie was little as fuck with a head twice his size.” He pulled the car to a stop and pushed his door open.
“Connie?!” Your brother called out to him, unable to catch his attention.
“See, not Connie.” He tried to prove.
“Hey, big head!” Connie's head lifted at the sound of your familiar voice and words, taking his earbuds out while squinting in your direction. You saw a small smile tease his lips when he got a good look at you, like he was happy to see you.
“Damn, guess it is him.” Your brother shrugged with his lips in a thin line before turning off to find his old friends and you proceeded to walk up to Connie.
“Connie?” You asked when you got in front of him.
“Yes?” He answered teasingly with a grin on his face.
“What the hell happened?” Your eyes ran over him, tattoos could be seen on his hands and on his neck, he was fit and more athletic than he ever was before.
“I don't know-” He was cut off by you pulling him into a hug, and he awkwardly stood there for a second, arms dangling on either side of you.
Noticing he wasn't hugging you back, you pulled back slightly looking up at him.
“What you forget how to hug, too cool for that?” He chuckled at your comment before wrapping his arms tight around your waist.
Feeling his muscular arms wrapped around you and his solid chest pressed against your was something unexpected that you weren't exactly mad about.
“Jesus, you used to be so little Connie!” You exclaimed as you both pulled out of the hug.
“Not anymore,” he paused for a second, eyes running over your body lustfully, “how ‘bout we catch up some mamas?” He nodded his head back and guided you to the back of the building.
—
How’d catching up turn into him hammering your insides relentlessly? You didn't know, it started with talking, then his hands were traveling up your thighs, then you were kissing, next you know, you were pinned against the wall letting him rock into you from behind.
The flesh of your ass slammed against his pelvis, with each pull back leaving trails of sticky fluids, your ass was sore from his merciless pounding and pace.
“Buena chica, así es.” He cooed in your ear, hands gripping your hips tightly as he hauled his length in and out of your opening. Your lubricated folds wrapped around his girth, the creamy barriers of your walls leaving him drenched and hard.
You felt one of his hands leave your hip and not long after you felt a slam against the meat of your ass.
Slap
The noise rippled through the air and you struggled to bite back your cries. You could feel your cilt pulsing and hole gaping, begging to be stuffed with milk.
“Con…fuuck, slow down!” You squealed in his ear, biting the corner of your lip in a desperate attempt to stay quiet.
“You got ma, take all of me, pretty girl.” He plowed himself deeper inside of you, his bulging tip pinned against your sensitive sweet spot. He groaned heavily in your ear, dragging himself back till you were clenching his cockhead, then slamming back into you colliding himself with your cervix.
His mushroom tip throbbed and twitched, drowned in your sappy cunt. The veins on his cock bulged, getting more sensitive each time he hammered into you.
He didn't slow down, he kept his pace merciless and full of momentum that knocked the air out of your lungs. You struggled to swallow back the whines spewing from you throat coming through your bitten lip as squeals.
Slap
Slap
Two more hard sticks the underside of your ass, the heavy fat jiggling from the clash between the meat and his hand. His heavy hits only resulted in you getting more excited and jolts through your back and pulsations in your desperate cilt.
Your tight walls embraced all of him, hugging each inch of his twitching cock, you clasped just right on the underside of his throbbing and sensitive vein of his cock causing groans to pour from his lips.
“Ordéñame, nena.” You heard his low desperate moan in your ear, and it triggered you to do exactly that.
One last clench caused him to twitch the shoot out hot loads of cum into you, stuffing you full and deep. His cream rode out of you and down onto himself, he crashed his head down onto your shoulder and panted.
Your hips jolted forward and your hole spasmed around him as you were long after. Choking on the moans that dared to spill from your lips, your juices spraying out of you and soaking both of you and the ground beneath you.
The aftermath flowed over you with pants and moans, sweat and fluid soaked clinging against each other, both disheveled and tired.
You’re lost in the rhythm of sorting clothes until your best friend, Connie, breaks the silence with a question that catches you off guard. When your verbal answer doesn't cut it, he takes matters into his own hands, trading the laundry for a vocal demonstration you won't forget.
. ݁໑. ݁3,197 words, smut/explicit sexual content(18+), Reader is said to be talkative and outgoing, brief tickling, mocking, dirty talk, bent over the bed-> mating press -> variation of missionary, no condom (wrap it!!), petnames/name-calling(e.g., baby, princess, sweetheart, and slut), etc ݁໑. ݁
Inspo [1, 2] < not p!links
⋆. ݁໑. ݁˖18+ 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒔 𝑫𝒐 𝑵𝒐𝒕 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕⋆. ݁໑. ݁˖
The late afternoon sun filtered through your bedroom window, catching the dust motes dancing over the piles of clothes scattered across your bed. You were in the middle of a seasonal purge, folded tops and bottoms from your many styles and phases; Alt, Goth, Coquette, Bohemian, Y2K—the list is long—forming towers around you. You were currently sporting a matching set—a tiny top that showed off the curve of your waist and soft, low-slung pj pants with little Snoppys that dragged slightly on the floor.
Connie was sprawled out across the foot of your bed, looking entirely too comfortable for someone who was just "waiting for his phone to charge." He was dressed down in cotton shorts and a graphic tee that stretched across his chest. The most distracting thing about him was his hair. He’d recently let it grow out just enough to bleach it and dye it with leopard-print spots—a look that was objectively strange, yet somehow, on him, it looked rugged and cool.
He was scrolling through your phone with a casualness that only came from years of being best friends. You didn't mind; you had nothing to hide, and usually, he was just looking for memes or checking the score of a game.
You were folding a sweater, your brow furrowed in concentration, when his thumb suddenly stopped moving. The room went quiet, save for the distant sound of traffic outside.
"Hey," he said, his voice dropping into a lower, suspiciously casual register.
"Yeah?" You didn't look up, struggling with a stubborn wrinkle in the wool.
"How loud do you get?"
You stopped mid-fold. You blinked, slowly turning your head to look at him. Connie wasn't looking at you yet; he was staring intently at the screen, a little smirk playing on his lips.
"Excuse me?" you asked, your tranquil energy replaced by a sharp, stunned edge. "What did you just ask me?"
He finally looked up, and the look in his eyes was pure mischief—that classic, goofy Connie spark, but with a new, heavy layer of heat you weren't used to seeing. He didn't look embarrassed at all. If anything, he looked challenged.
"I asked how loud you get," he repeated, tilting the phone toward you. "During sex. Like, are we talking neighbors call the cops or just muffled whimpers?"
"Give me that!" You lunged for the phone, but he lifted it high above his head, using his reach to keep it away. You ended up hovering over him, your chest inches from his face, your calm expression now dampened, twisting into something abashed. "What are you even looking at? Why would you ask me that?"
"Relax, I'm not just being a creep," he laughed, his free hand coming up to rest on your hip to steady you as you leaned over him. His palm was warm, and his fingers dug slightly into the soft fabric of your pj pants.
"Mikasa texted you. Apparently, she’s overthinking things with Eren. She asked 'how loud is too loud' because she knows he likes hearing her, but she’s terrified of embarrassing herself."
He pulled the phone back down, his hazel eyes locking onto yours. The goofiness was still there, but his gaze dragged slowly down to your mouth and then back up.
"It got me thinking," he murmured, his thumb absentmindedly stroking the skin of your hip. "Since you’re always so bubbly and talkative... I bet you’re a screamer. I bet you don’t know how to keep your mouth shut when things get good."
You snatched the phone out of his hand, huffing as you sat back on your heels. "You’re so gross. And for your information, I am a lady."
"A 'lady' who's getting all coy because I mentioned her vocal cords," he teased, sitting up and leaning close enough that his shoulder brushed yours. "Come on. Tell me. If I were the one in there with you, would you be making enough noise to wake up the whole floor? Or would you be trying to hide it?"
You stared at the text from Mikasa, your heart hammering a rhythm that had nothing to do with the laundry. You could feel him watching you—waiting, playful, and far too observant.
To: Mikasa 🩷
> Don't overthink it. If Eren likes hearing you, that's all that matters. Just be yourself and do what feels natural in the moment—there’s no such thing as too loud when it’s someone you love. You won’t embarrass yourself!!
You hit send and tossed the phone onto the pile of clothes.
Connie was still hovering, his eyes fixed on the screen. "So? What'd the expert have to say? Give me the details."
"Stop being nosy. That’s girl talk." you teased, sticking your tongue out at him.
"Oh, come on, I'm the one who gave you the phone!" He reached for it, but you swiped it away, tucking it behind your back.
"Too bad. You’ve officially lost your phone privileges," you said with a playful glare. "Go back to your own device."
"Fine," he muttered, but he didn't move toward his phone. Instead, he lunged forward, his large hands catching your waist and hauling you onto his lap. You yelped as he forced you to straddle him, your knees digging into the mattress on either side of his hips.
For a second, the playfulness shifted. He just wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest and burying his face in your shoulder. "Sorry," he mumbled into your skin, his voice muffled and unusually soft. "I'm being annoying."
You softened, your hands coming up to rest on his shoulders, fingers grazing the leopard-print fuzz of his hair. "You really are, but I'm used to it."
Suddenly, he gripped your hips and rolled, pinning you onto your back against the bed. Before you could even catch your breath, his fingers were digging into your sides.
"Connie! No! Stop it!" You shrieked, your legs kicking out as you dissolved into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. You were squirming, trying to shield your ribs, but he was relentless, his face lit up with a mischievous grin. "Stop—Connie, I swear—I'll beat your ass! Constance!"
He stopped abruptly, his hands hovering over you, laughing as he remembered the last time you’d followed through on the threat. "Alright, alright! Don't kill me now."
He let his weight settle on you, laying his head on your chest and listening to your racing heart. The room was quiet for a moment, just the two of you breathing in the afternoon heat.
Then, his voice came out low, vibrating against your ribs. "I bet you moan and beg for more, even when it's too much. You seem like the type who doesn't know when to quit."
You scoffed, your hand coming down to playfully shove at his head. "Please. That sounds like projection. You’re probably the one who gets all whiny and needy the second things get intense."
Connie lifted his head, his chin resting on your sternum as he looked up at you. The goofiness was gone, replaced by a dark, steady challenge in his eyes that made your stomach flip.
"Whiny, huh?" he repeated, a slow, dangerous smirk spreading across his face. "You want to find out?"
-
The shift from best friends to this was like a physical blow. One minute you were laughing about laundry, and the next, Connie had you stripped and bent over the edge of the mattress. The playful goofy Connie was buried under a layer of raw, unchecked hunger, though that signature streak of mischief was still very much alive—and it was meaner now.
He was behind you, his large hands reaching around to grip your jaw, forcing your head back and down as he drove into you from behind. The leopard-print spots on his head were a blur of motion as he worked, his chest slapping against your back with every heavy, rhythmic thrust.
"Connie—ah! Fuuck—you’re so deep—" you cried out, your voice echoing off the bedroom walls. Your fingers dug into the tangled sheets, your back arching as he hit a spot that made your toes curl. "Connie, please—"
He let out a sharp, jagged laugh, his fingers squeezing your jaw a little tighter. "'Connie,'" he mimicked, his voice a perfect, cruel imitation of your high-pitched, desperate tone. "'Oh—Fuuck, you’re so deep!' God, you’re even louder than I thought you’d be. The neighbors definitely know who's fucking you, don't they?"
"Shut up!" you hissed, trying to turn your head, but he just used his grip to keep you pinned.
"Make me," he challenged, his voice dropping into a gravelly rasp as he increased the pace, fucking you with a mean, relentless energy that had you gasping for air.
You’d had enough of him having the upper hand. As he lunged forward again, you planted your hands firmly on the bed and pushed back against him, meeting his thrust with a sharp, aggressive roll of your hips. You clamped your walls around him as tight as you could, a slick, lewd sound filling the space between you.
"You like that, Connie?" you whispered, your voice dropping into a dark, sultry purr. "You like how tight I am? You're shaking."
A high, thin whine escaped his throat—the exact sound you’d called him out on earlier. He tried to cover it with a grunt, but you heard it. You reached back, your fingers find his jaw, mimicking the way he’d held you. You pulled his face closer to yours, your eyes flashing with a dangerous sort of triumph.
"What was that, baby?" you teased, your voice dripping with a honeyed, cruel sweetness as you felt him throb violently inside you. You leaned back, feeling his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against you. "Sounded a little whiny to me. A little desperate."
You shifted your hips, grinding back slow and heavy against him, watching his eyes roll back as he let out a strangled, needy sound
"How about this..." you whispered, your breath hot against his ear, "after you're done fucking me like a good boy, I tie you down? I’m gonna spread those thighs and tie you to the headboard. I'll play with this dick until you're crying sobbing for me. I'll get you right to the edge, let you see the stars, and then I’ll just... stop. I’ll make you wait until you’re begging me to let you cum."
You pulled back just enough to look him in the eye, a wicked smirk playing on your lips as you saw the raw hunger in his gaze. His breath hitched and for a split second, he looked completely undone, his resolve wavering under the sheer audacity of your words.
"Fuck..." he breathed, the word breaking in the middle. But then his eyes darkened, and he shoved your hand away, grabbing your hips and slamming into you with a force that knocked the wind out of you.
"You're so fucking nasty," he gritted out, his jaw tight as he regained control. His voice was thicker now, more desperate. "Think you're in charge because you heard a little noise? Forget it. You're not the one doing the work right now."
He leaned down, burying his face in the crook of your neck, biting at the skin where your shoulder met your collarbone. His teeth grazed you with a sharp, possessive hunger that made you yelp, the sound echoing in the humid quiet of the room.
"Keep talking like that and I'll make sure you can't scream anything but my name for the next hour," he rasped, his breath hot and damp against your pulse. "You want to see 'whiny'? I’ll show you who’s begging by the time I’m through."
He didn't wait for a rebuttal. He began to tease you, using shallow, agonizing strokes that barely crested your entrance before pulling all the way out. Each time he retreated, you felt the cool air hit your slick skin, making you whimper and reach back, your hips stuttering in a desperate attempt to find the friction he was stealing. Whenever a particularly pathetic sound left your lips, he was right there, whispering it back to you in that mocking, ruined voice, forcing you to hear exactly how much he was affecting you.
"Is that a moan, princess?" he whispered, his thumb catching a stray tear on your cheek as he hovered at the very edge of you. "Sounded a lot like a 'please' to me. Say it. Say 'Please, Connie, fuck me for real.'"
The ghosting strokes were driving you insane, making your skin itch and your core ache with an empty, throbbing need. You were trembling, your forehead pressed into the mattress, your breath coming in short, jagged hitches that betrayed your every thought.
You couldn’t take the teasing anymore.
"Please," you finally broke, the word cracking in your throat like a dry branch. "Connie, please... fuck me for real. Stop teasing."
He let out a low, triumphant hum, the sound vibrating through his chest and into your back. "That’s my girl," he whispered, mocking the way your voice had gone small and desperate. "'Please, Connie...' Much better."
He didn’t just give it to you, though. He grabbed your waist, his fingers digging into your hips with an athletic, predatory strength, and hauled you upright. He flipped you over in one fluid motion, the sheets tangling around your legs as he crowded over you immediately.
He pinned your wrists beside your head, his sweat-slicked chest heaving as he looked down at you. This was exactly what you wanted—to see the way his hazel eyes were blown wide with lust, the way his leopard-print was damp and mess, and the way his jaw was set in a hard, possessive line.
He didn't waste another second. He hiked your legs over his broad shoulders, opening you up completely, and drove in. It was a deep, soul-shattering thrust that bottomed out instantly, the sheer volume of him making you scream his name into the quiet of the room.
"Yeah, you like that?" he rasped, his face inches from yours, his pupils dilated until they swallowed the hazel. He began to fuck you with a frantic, messy energy, his hips snapping against yours with a rhythmic, wet slap. "Look at you. Face-to-face and you still can't keep it together."
"Connie—ahn, you're so—mghn—" You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down so you could bite his shoulder, trying to stifle the sounds you were making, but he wouldn't let you hide.
He let out a ragged laugh, his head falling back as he hit that spot again, deep and certain. "What happened to that big talk, huh? What happened to tying me down?" He started mocking your moans again, right into your mouth, his tongue grazing yours as he imitated the pathetic, high-pitched whines you were making.
"You’re so loud, sweetheart. I bet the whole building knows you’re taking it right now."
You were losing your mind. The friction was perfect, and the way he was looking at you—with that mix of intense love and bratty, mocking mischief—was pushing you over the edge. You arched your back, your fingers digging into his shoulder blades, scratching thin red lines into his skin.
"I hate you," you gasped, even as you tilted your hips to take him deeper, wanting to feel every ridge of him.
"Liar." he grunted, his rough pace accelerating, breath hitching in that way you knew meant he was getting close. He leaned down, his nose brushing yours, his eyes locking onto yours with a sudden, startling intensity. "You love it," he rasped, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly vibration that you felt in your chest as much as your ears.
"You love this dick. You love that I’m the only one who can make you sound like this—screaming and crying like a brat when I hit that spot."
You let out a shaky, broken laugh, your fingers digging into the corded muscle of his shoulders. The overstimulation was peaking, making you feel reckless, your mind hazy from the way he’d just dismantled you.
"Yeah?" you whispered, your voice thick and syrupy. You tilted your head back, exposing your throat, your eyes fluttering as you felt him twitch inside you. "And what about you? Look at you... obsessed with me. You're such a slut for this pussy, aren't you? Following me around all day, acting all tough, but the second I let you touch it, you lose your damn mind."
His jaw locked, a vein jumping in his temple. He didn't like the truth of it, but he couldn't deny it. He ground his hips forward, a slow, punishing roll that made you moan.
"I’m the slut?" he asked, his hand leaving the bed to wrap firmly around your throat—not enough to hurt, just enough to make you feel the weight of his possession. "When you're the one dripping all over the bed? When you're the one begging for me to go deeper because you can't get enough?"
"You are," you provoked, your voice a breathless dare. You reached down, your nails dragging over his sweat-slicked hip. "All that muscle, all that mouth, and you still work yourself into a frenzy just to get a taste of me. You’re addicted, baby. You’d do anything to keep me under you like this."
He let out a low, guttural sound. He didn't argue. Instead, he pulled back just enough to slam back home, his pace turning fast, crude, and unapologetically dirty.
"Yeah, I am," he gritted out, his forehead dropping to yours as he hammered into you. "I want to live inside you. I want to fill you so full of my cum you can't even stand up straight. I want to make you cum all over my dick until your crying."
He wasn't being careful anymore. He was taking what he wanted, his movements raw and rhythmic, the sound of skin hitting skin echoing through the room like a steady, filthy heartbeat.
"That's it," you gasped, your back arching as the tension coiled again, tighter and hotter than before. "Give it me, baby. Make me cum."
He kept fucking you, his weight pinning you down as he sought out that glazed, blown-out stare that meant you were seconds away from shattering.
The heat between you was suffocating, a fever pitch of friction and salt. Then Connie saw it—the way your eyes lost focus—and he decided he wasn't done playing with his food just yet.
As soon as you felt yourself tip—just as you reached the peak, your back arching and your fingers clutching at his biceps, he abruptly stopped.
He didn't pull out; he stayed buried deep inside you, but he went completely still, his heavy weight a taunt against your sensitive walls.
"Connie—no—" you whimpered, your hips stuttering, trying to find the friction that had just been there. "Don't stop. Please, don't stop."
He let out that light chuckle, his eyes dancing with mischief despite the sweat dripping off his chin. "'Don't stop, Connie! Please, Connie!’" he mocked, his voice a perfect, high-pitched mimicry of your desperation. He leaned down, whispering against your lips, his voice thick and ruined. "I thought you were the boss? I thought I was the whiny one? You look pretty whiny right now, begging for it."
He began to grind his hips in a slow, agonizing circle—not thrusting, just stirring inside you, making the overstimulation unbearable. He kept mocking your broken sounds, repeating every "oh god" and "please" back to you until you were crying out of pure, exquisite frustration.
"Please, Connie... I'll do anything," you sobbed, your head tossing on the pillow, your body a live wire.
"Anything?" he rasped, his eyes darkening as he finally lost his own battle for control. "Fine. Then take all of it."
He grabbed your thighs, hiking them even higher until your knees were practically touching your ears, and he lunged. The pace went from zero to sixty in a heartbeat. It was a brutal, relentless pounding—no more teasing, no more mocking, just the raw, wet sound of him slamming into you with everything he had.
Your orgasm hit like a freight train. You screamed, your voice finally giving out as your body seized, your pussy clenching around him with a strength that made his head snap back.
"That's it," he groaned, his voice finally losing its mocking edge and turning into a pure, guttural roar. "Cum for me. There you go, baby. Let it all out."
He didn't pull out. He shoved his hands under your lower back, lifting you up to meet him as he delivered three more violent, soul-searching thrusts. He let out a long, choked-off cry—that high, needy whine you’d teased him about earlier—as he spilled deep and hot inside you, his whole body shaking with the force of his release.
He collapsed on top of you, his chest heaving, his heart drumming a frantic rhythm against yours. The room was silent except for the sound of your combined, ragged breathing and the distant hum of the city outside.
After a long minute, Connie lifted his head. He looked at your wrecked, tear-stained face, and that goofy, loving smirk returned to his lips, cutting through the heavy tension of the moments before. He reached up, his thumb brushing a stray tear from your temple.
"So," he panted, his voice a total wreck. "Scale of one to ten... how loud was that? Should I go check on the neighbors, or do you think you were quiter than Mikasa?"
You reached up, weakly smacking his chest. "I hate you so much."
He just laughed, rolling over to pull you into his side, tucking your head under his chin and holding you close as the sweat cooled on your skin. "Yeah, yeah. Love you too, loudmouth."
armin with a breeding kink. the thought of armin losing his mind because all he wants to do is fill you up with his cum. adding to that, his submissive tendencies that makes him beg for you to let him do it.
the soft plea that leaves his lips as you keep bouncing up and down in his lap is downright sinful. your cunt pulsing with a need to keep him inside of you.
“please…l-let me— please.” he begs. tears forming in his waterline as his hands grip your waist.
the answering smirk you give him is what he deems as torture. he knows he’s being denied the pleasure but it doesn’t make him want it any less. he’s desperate to cum. desperate for you.
you slow your pace, your hips meeting his as you clench around his length. “you’re doing so good for me though.” you coo, almost pouting in front of him. your hands tangle in his hair for a brief moment before tugging softly on the blonde tresses. “can’t you hold on a little longer?”
he wants to but he can’t. the need, the desire, his insatiable need to cum was far too much to handle. his hands grip your waist tightly as he apologizes softly — his lust clouding his judgement as he puts you on your back, pinning your legs to your chest as he looks you over. “i-i can’t help it.”
you look up in surprise as armin sets his own pace; chasing after his own pleasure. your fingers dig into the sheets, knuckles turning white from how you held on. your jaw slack from the immense pleasure coursing through your body.
armin in the center of it all.
he thrusts so deeply that you could almost feel it passing your cervix. his hair sticking to his forehead as he grips your waist even tighter that you were sure would bruise by the morning. words barely left his mouth, nothing but a chorus of whimpers and sobs as he chased after his high.
“armin!” you shout. the feeling of your orgasm approaching faster than before, the build up, the way armin looked above you. the soft spoken plea that left armin, his small voice asking if he could come.
that’s all it took. one simple ‘yes’ and armin’s dick twitched as he felt himself coming inside you. warm and wet as he kept filling you up. his gaze was unfocused and glassy as he stared down at your pussy — glistening with your juices and his cum.
you could barely catch your breath before armin pulled out and latched his mouth on your cunt. your hands fly to his hair, gripping softly as broken whine leaves your lips.
his tongue lapping up every single drop, leaving you overstimulated but pleased all in the same. his tongue flicked your clit and your back bowed as you came on his tongue, coating the bottom half of his face with your slick.
you felt him place a kiss on your clit once more before fully pulling away. you let out a giggle and pulled him down for a kiss. you pulled away first to make him look at you — the dazed look was still there but he had a smug grin on his face as well.
——
a/n: i genuinely don’t know where this came from but like yeah. also, hey lmaoo🫶🏽 of course i come back with something armin themed like…
₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . dilf!eren fucking you whenever and wherever he wants. ₊ ⊹ . ݁
౨ৎ ⋆｡˚dilf!eren who is the kind of man who turns heads without even trying. standing at an impressive six foot two inches, tattoos inked delicately across warm olive skin. his athletic build a testament to years of dedicated workouts and an active lifestyle. his chiseled jawline, adorned with just the right amount of stubble, framed a face that could easily belong on the cover of a fashion magazine. deep-set, piercing green eyes seeming to hold a thousand stories. his tousled hair giving him a rugged, yet sophisticated look.
when he became a dad, all of that doubled. his effortlessly good looks were now complemented by a softer, more nurturing side that made him even more irresistible. the way he had cradled your newborn daughter in his strong arms, the gentle way he kissed her forehead.
unfortunately, your husband becoming a dilf meant other women's gazes also doubling. it was something you had come to expect, but it didn't make it any easier. you could see the way that they glanced at him when he would pick up your daughter from preschool, eyes lingering a little too long, smiles too friendly.
౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ dilf!eren who's always making sure his babygirl is set, he often sent you money without you even having to ask, ensuring that you and your daughter never want for anything. "just looking out for my pretty little ladies."
౨ৎ ⋆｡˚dilf!eren who can't seem to keep his hands to himself when your parents are over in the next room visiting. hand clamped over your mouth as he feeds you his thick girth inch by inch, the stretch sending your eyes rolling back. "gotta be quiet baby, don't be rude." he's evil. fluidly rolling his pulsating cock into that spongy part that has you grasping the sheets.
౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ dilf!eren who loves the way you moan when he eats your pussy with his stubble, the way the short hairs prick you, making the sensation of him all the more better. he loves the way he makes you whimper when he pushes your thick thighs flush to your chest and nips your clit hard, making you buck and writhe under his lips and tongue. he loves how you taste, salty and sweet at the same time and the way your body quakes and shudders underneath him. he loves you.
౨ৎ ⋆｡˚dilf!eren who fucks you stupid against the kitchen counter as you prep your daughter's after-school snack, cheek pressed against the cold granite, hands scrabbling for purchase. "m'so hungry." but eren's not hungry for food.
౨ৎ ⋆｡˚dilf!eren who forgets you're a milf, jealously coursing through him as he watches the man next door flirt with you while you garden. it's nothing but cruel when he fucks you into the sofa, making sure the window is open and your neighbor is outside to hear you being ravaged.
he makes it extra filthy when he bends you over the back of the couch, facing the window, slapping your ass until it holds the color of your tomato plants. the whole neighborhood can probably hear you sobbing with pleasure, the way his name falls from your lips. he knows what he has and the jealousy makes him all the more possessive, he wants the whole world to know that you are his.
౨ৎ ⋆｡˚dilf!eren who is always trying to get you pregnant again, fucking you until his sticky cum bubbles from your hole.
౨ৎ ⋆｡˚dilf!eren who wouldn't trade being cuddled in bed with his two favorite girls, watching a movie with popcorn, for anything.
Rapper Eren! who lets you straddle him, with the weight of his 9k Cuban link chain heavy around your neck, the pendant with his initials bouncing teasingly between your breasts with every roll of your hips. Eren’s eyes darkened, his hands gripping your thighs, guiding you, keeping you steady as you sank down onto him.
“That's it baby, ride me,” he growled, voice rough, low, vibrating through you. You let yourself move, slow at first, feeling him stretch inside you, the heat building with each deliberate grind. The chain bounced perfectly against the swell of your chest, brushing your nipples, teasing both of you.
Your moans grew louder, messy and wet, and he leaned back, gripping your hips tighter, thrusting up into you in perfect sync with your movements. You were dripping over him, slick and needy, trembling as your body coiled, tightening, until......
“Oh, fuck!” you screamed, shuddering as your orgasm ripped through you, your slick spilling over him in waves. Eren groaned, low and guttural, and slammed into you, filling you with his thick, hot creamy cum that made your knees wobble.
You collapsed against him, chest heaving, chain now resting lazily between the curves of your sweat-slicked breasts. He pulled you close, whispering, “Mine,” and the heat between you still burned hotter than the bass in the background.
Armin loved you more than he loved anything in the world.
All the years he's spent with you it seems he only fell deeper in love with you. Every moment you guys had together only seemed better than the last. He couldn't put it into words just how special words how much you mean to him. To him you were like a love song that never seemed to end. The days you two spent planning the future together filled him with a hope he never had before. This wasn't like when he made promises with Mikasa and Eren, this meant so much more.
Being able to wake up every morning to you by his side warmed his heart. Light blue eyes peered at your sleeping form with a gaze full of love. Each shallow breath that came from you allowed him to relax with ease. His fingers lingered across your face, glancing across every little feature he grew to memorize over the years.
"What are you looking at, Min?"
Your voice broke him out his daze making him smile. He leaned down, gently laying his cold forehead against your own making you groan in annoyance.
"I just love you so much. You're truly so perfect."
