#connie springer

eren (๑•﹏•)

contrary to popular belief, eren doesn’t jerk off a lot 

his depravity runs deep that’s for sure, he’s got a plentiful imagination that can easily aid him in his alone time 

and yet he never really puts it to use often

unless he’s extremely pent up or so bored that nothing else seems interesting enough except for masturbating 

and when he began dating you, he couldn’t keep his hands off of you, finally having obtained a beautiful, perfect outlet to release his pent up energy into 

why would he spill over his knuckles when he could just do it inside of you? 

but when you’re far and gone from him, and when he misses you too much to bare… 

he’s not above jerking off while thinking about you 

if anything he thinks it’s romantic 

and depending on the severity of his desire and the amount of patience he has or lack thereof, the scenarios shift around 

if the hunger for you is a slow burn, one that lightly simmers throughout the day until it bubbles over into an explosion of burning heat inside him, then he’ll start off slow, making himself horny without even realizing it 

like when you had to go out of town for a week to visit a sick family member, his mind kept lingering on the last kiss you two shared before you were off 

how you went up on your tippy toes, your hands cupped around his jaw as you kissed him deeply, tilting your head and angling into him with a soft moan of contentment in his mouth 

you pulled away, resting your forehead to his, a little breathy giggle falling from your lips and fanning over his, like you caught the way you were losing yourself in the kiss for just a second too long 

you gave him another peck as you began to pull away, your hand faltering from his jaw, down to his chest, drawing out your touch before you left 

he kept thinking about it, replaying it over and over in his mind, his stomach fluttering at the thought of how your breasts felt pressed to his chest, how you were the one who deepened the kiss and held his face close to yours, how a fucking moan slipped from you and all he did was kiss you 

and his mind trickled over into the obscene, and he imagined pushing you up against the door, one hand around your jaw, forcing you to look at him, and the other locking the door behind you 

he’d have cupped your pussy over your pants and rubbed your clit with the heel of his palm, watching how you crumble so quickly and spread your legs for him 

then he’d unzip your pants and flip you around, tugging your jeans just under your ass, making the already plump flesh swell from the material bunched beneath it 

his hand would slide under the sweater you had on and he’d be greeted with the lack of a bra, and he’d grope and squeeze your breasts while fingering your soaked cunt, forcing you to kiss him while he fucked you on his fingers 

then in his mind, he’d have you jerk him off, while in reality he was fucking his fist, desperately pretending it was your soft hand wrapped around him 

he’d try and really sell the fantasy for himself, squirting lotion into his palm and warming it up before going right back to it, the vision behind his closed eyes extending the scene into him fucking you up against the door, burying himself deep into you and rolling his hips against your ass, never fully pulling out, just shifting enough to provide you both the much needed friction 

he’d be moaning in your shared bed, his heavy eyes parting just to glance over at your side, wishing you were there while he pictured your naked body, groaning heavily as he focused on your presence even if you weren’t there 

he’d finish to the thought of filling you to the hilt, stuffing you full of cock while he cums in you, each spurt inside you making you completely full of him

he’d be shuddering your name as he came, murmuring in broken sentences of “fu..fuckin’ mine,” and “my girl, my girl,” 

and then when he’s impatient his fantasies shed their gentle nature 

(as if the original one had much to begin with) 

his go to is pushing you on your knees and fucking your face 

despite how fucking bad he wants to absolutely fuck your throat, he holds back because he loves you and he knows he’s well endowed, and if he took you the way he really wanted to…  

suffice to say he fears it wouldn’t be as pleasurable for you as it would be for him 

you can already barely take his cock as it is, when you let him into your mouth, your poor jaw gets sore so quickly and you gag when he hits the back of your throat 

it turns him on so much watching you sputter and catch your breath

and fuck its so hot the way you look up at him with those beautifully helpless, watery eyes, your hands trembling as you double fist his cock while you try to soothe your gag reflex before attempting to go back down 

it’s not that you’re bad at sucking his dick, he loves your gentle and earnest approach, loves how your slow pace makes him really focus and enjoy the feeling, how you lick up his shaft and make out with his tip 

but goddamn sometimes that pretty mouth of yours pisses him off and all he wants is to fuck the attitude clean off your tongue with his cock filling your jaw 

so he’ll act out this desire in the only way he can and fuck the tunnel of his palm while envisioning its your little throat 

he’ll be hunched over in bed, one hand pressed to the headboard while the other thrusts into his fist, grunting to himself and pretending his words are falling into your ears 

“take it — take that fuckin’ cock, s’all you’re good for,” he’d grit, throwing his head back with his hips crashing into his fist 

he cums so hard whenever he thinks about this, about gripping the back of your hair and yanking you backward, prompting you to scramble for purchase over his hips while he watches his cock fill your throat 

and when he’s finished he feels disgusting and guilty but it’s never enough to make him stop thinking about it 

maybe one day he’ll work up the courage to try and bring up deepthroating </3 

armin (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

dear sweet, sweet armin 

he’s a secret pervert 

and although he’s your boyfriend, you don’t realize how much of a debauched freak he really is 

he doesn’t like to be loud and proud of it, instead he’s quiet and ashamed 

he wants to be respectful and treat you the way you deserve to be treated

especially because he just can’t wrap his head around the idea that someone like you would go for someone like him, even despite all your loving reassurances that you give him, always letting him know that you feel like you’re the lucky one 

but he’s not so sure you’d maintain those sentiments if you knew what he used to do before you began dating 

he’d hump his pillow, his long fingers curling around the soft cushion while pretending it was your hips as he thought of you, yearned for you

he’d prop his phone on the mattress before him while he humped his pillow, a quick blurry upskirt shot he took of you when he allowed you to go first up the stairs 

or when you fell asleep at one of sasha’s parties, he snapped a photo of you passed out on her couch, claiming it was because connie drew a mustache on you and he thought it was funny, but really he just wanted to have it so he could zoom in on your tits practically falling out your dress and your exposed panties just barely peaking out from how high your dress rode up 

he’d rest on his tummy, his pillow tucked beneath him and just grind, his hand shakily reaching towards his phone to pathetically zoom in on your clothed pussy

it was such bad quality, but it was enough to make him genuinely salivate 

the photo never failed to make him shoot a fat load into a wad of tissues, and he’d always have to rush and grab a few tissues from off his nightstand, not wanting evidence of his disgusting actions to be left on his pillow 

and when you finally got together? 

he didn’t think his fantasies could get more pitiful and degenerate, but of course, they did 

he likes to take the last article of clothing you’ve worn and nearly smother himself with it, burying his face with your soft clothes and warm scent while he strokes himself, trying to copy the way you touch him 

he whimpers for you, calls out for you as if you could hear him, begging an invisible you to please let him cum 

he’d never admit this but he cums so fucking hard to the thought of you at your laptop, looking so focused and beautiful with your work, and you glancing over at him and noticing he’s hard 

in his fantasy, you make him speak to you while he’s on his knees, and you make him explain why he deserves to feel mommy’s pussy when she’s clearly busy 

in his mind he convinces you and you bend over, paying him no mind while you continue typing on your laptop, allowing him to fuck you from behind

his front would curl tightly over your back while his hands roam all over you desperately, always paying extra attention to your breasts

his cheek would rest over the nape of your neck, and he’d breathe you in like a depraved freak, panting and whimpering about how thankful he is to fuck his mommy 

you’d rub your clit with one hand and continue with your work on the other, occasionally granting him a “you feel so good baby, that’s my good boy,” 

you have zero idea that he overstimulates himself in your shared bed while he moans for you, twitching while he pictures cumming in you and you forcing him to lick you clean after 

“thank you mommy...” armin whispers to himself whenever he finishes cumming, catching his breath and wishing you were there to lap up the mess in his fist 

maybe one day he’ll bring it up to you…

until then it’s his pillow and him against the world 

jean (⩌⩊⩌)

similarly to eren, jean doesn’t really jerk off that often 

but where they differ is that while eren never feels above masturbating, jean does 

it makes him feel like a horny teen and he hates it 

however one sentiment that they share is : “why fuck my hand when i could fuck a beautiful woman instead?” 

it’s not that he doesn’t like jerking off, it’s that he’s ashamed to enjoy it, but not enough to where he can stave off avoiding it every time 

he’s only a man, he’s bound to give in every once in awhile 

he obviously daydreams of you when he does it, but more specifically he thinks about how soft you always seem to feel, and not just your tight cunt 

for example, he’ll think about your arms, how delicate you feel in his grip when he grabs your forearm and pins it behind your back while he fucks you 

or your legs when he throws them over his shoulders and slides his fat cock inside of you all the way 

or your sweet tummy, how cute it is when he kisses his way down to your pussy, occasionally sinking his teeth into the side of your belly, laughing to himself when you gasp and shyly whine for him to stop 

everything about you is so fragile to him, but not because he thinks you’re weak, but because to him you’re just so perfect in every way — in other words you’re precious cargo 

picturesque montages of your body in different angles and positions, a compilation of all his favorite moments you two have had during sex plays behind his eyes while he jerks off 

he’s a simple man with simple pleasures 

one in particular however, he seems to revisit more often than the others 

he thinks about this time you woke up from a nap and went into the bathroom while he was showering 

initially he thought you just missed him and were going to hop up on the bathroom counter and talk his ear off while he shampooed but instead you ignored his affectionate greeting, of “hi my sleepy girl, you feelin’ alright?” 

you stared at him while you stripped off your clothes and entered the shower with him 

you grabbed his face and kissed him hard, hiking your leg around his hip to grind against him with the same urgency as if time was going to run out and you’d never get to touch him again  

he was completely gobsmacked, you’d never been like that before but he was not going to complain 

he fell into a rhythm with you, pulling you in close and feeling the blood flood his cock in record timing 

he rutted against you, groaning in your mouth and gripping your ass, pulling you in harder

“had a dream,” you finally explained, kissing down his jaw and neck, nearly sucking bruises into his skin 

“where you fucked me so good,” you whispered in his ear, pulling back just barely enough to where he could see the starved glint in your eye 

“and i woke up so wet for you,” you shakily breathed out, swallowing hard as your head lulled back upon feeling him start to circle your hole 

“i need you so bad jean,” you whimpered, trying to angle your hips just right and make him slip inside

but he didn’t need to be told a second time

he pushed in, his face falling to your tits as he started fucking you, pressing you up against the tiled walls 

usually he has to finger you to get you prepared for his cock but you weren’t lying, you were so fucking wet that it made his intrusion easier than ever 

he suspected you touched yourself before you came into the shower, and the thought only made him hornier 

you were crazy in those small four walls, he watched you fuck yourself on his cock as you leaned against the wall, looking down at your connected bodies and rubbing your clit at the sight 

fuck the memory makes him so rock hard he worries his dick will just fall off his body 

he remembers how he pressed you against the glass door and fucked you from the back, grabbing some soap and rubbing it over your ass, watching your skin grow sudsy from it 

he dragged a hand over the fogged glass just enough to allow him to see your tits smushed against the shower door through the mirror outlooking you both 

he made you watch as he fucked you hard, whispering in your ear if he was doing it just like he did in your dream 

you sobbed a garbled moan, nodding like the dumb little girl you become when he gets his cock in you 

ugh he came sooo hard in you that afternoon, and he cums nearly just as hard every time he thinks about it

since then he prays everyday that you get another wet dream with him in it 

reiner (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) ‹𝟹

reiner actually jerked off a lot before you two started dating 

poor thing would feel so guilty every time, always so ashamed with the notion that he was disrespecting you by doing it and that he was just too weak to stop 

it was honestly lamentable, how he was over you before you were his 

he’d think about how warm your hand was when you gently held onto his arm while guiding yourself through a full crowd 

or about how good your perfume and shampoo smelled and how much of a human heater you were and are — these qualities of yours surfaced his mind specifically when he’d think about how he had to lean down to hug you, and how your scent enveloped him and how it felt as though your heat could melt ice right off of him 

but when you were finally all his, he didn’t have to rely on jerking off to abstract concepts of you anymore

no longer did he have to only rely on things like you saying his name in the middle of a text — the simple action would somehow make him hard because oh my god she’s saying my name she typed it she used her thumbs to pick out the letters in my name i love her so much

instead he could just actually have sex with you 

but when you’re not there or if you’re sick or on your period, he’d rather die than ask you and make you feel pressured, so he just takes care of himself 

he thinks about your face a lot, your smile, your giggle, this specific way your eyebrows draw together when he’s making you feel really good, how your lip trembles with moans when he stuffs you with his fingers 

how you paw at him, at his chest and shoulders, down his fit body and beg him to fuck you 

he thinks about the initial push inside of you when you guys have sex, how you always gasp every time, your legs coming round to tighten around his hips 

your eyes flutter shut and your lips shakily drop open from being stretched out by him, and fuck your back arches so prettily off the bed while you lift your hips, trying to accommodate his size 

you’re just this perfect sexy thing beneath him that turns him on like nothing else, and it’s honestly a true testament to his control and reserve that he can hold back from cumming immediately upon seeing you like that 

so when he jerks off he replays that over and over in his mind, sinking his fist over his cock and pretending it’s him sliding into your pussy for the first time 

he thinks about how he has to rock into you slowly, a steady in and out, stretching you out before he can begin to really fuck you 

how you whimper and start to rock your hips against his impatiently, so fucking needy for his cock 

he loves how much you desire him, it makes him feel so loved and needed, like he’s the only one who can bring you pleasure

he thinks about how you moan his name, doing his best to focus on the memory of your breathy cries for him while he fucks you, how you chant his name like saying it alone makes you feel good 

he often thinks back to the time you begged him to cum inside you for the first time, and it does him in every single time 

it was your first night in your first apartment together and you guys were breaking in your new bed 

he was so ecstatic to have taken this new level of the relationship with you, and you could feel it in the way he fucked you 

and in how he kissed your lips and down your jaw and neck, how he rubbed your clit so perfectly in tune with his thrusts 

“please, please cum in me reiner, wanna feel you deep in me please, baby?” you had panted, like it hurt to think of him cumming anywhere else but inside you 

and fuck, he definitely granted you your wish, his hips stilled, thick thighs tensing as he came deep in you, spurting thick and heavy ropes into your tight cunt without a care in the world 

he loves that memory so much, he blushes when he thinks about it and makes a mess of his fist every time  

connie ((⚆·̫⚆‧̣̥̇ ))

nearly without fail connie will jerk off whenever he misses you 

that boy is clingy as hell 

it’s not his fault his girlfriend is just so damn hot !

and it’s not like you two have sex every single day, it’s just that when you’re not around, your absence is too loud for him to ignore and he begins to have those dead wife flashback montages in his head like in the movies 

something you like about connie is how dirty he can be, it's a trait only you’re allowed to see, considering you’re his girlfriend, it makes sense that you’d be the only one who sees that side of him 

he’s so playful, fun and sweet, that sometimes it’s such a jarring 180 when he gets horny 

he’ll fuck you from the back and grunt for you to fuckin’ stay put when you try moving your hands away from the headboard 

and god forbid you wear a skirt around him when he’s feeling ravenous… 

he’ll hike it up and lower your panties down to your ankles and fuck you hard, slamming his hips flush to your ass while he fists the delicate material of your skirt 

he thinks about these things when he jerks off and gets so upset he can’t just take you the way he wants to 

he almost gets frustrated, huffing as he palms himself and looks at pictures of you on his phone, swiping through them until he gets impatient and shoves his sweatpants and boxers down below his hips to touch himself properly

he’ll look at all the selfies you’ve sent him and jerk off, throwing his head back as he imagines himself there with you when you took the photo

like with this one photo, it’s probably his favorite selfie of you, you’re in his car with no makeup, a tank top and those leggings he loves 

you sent him the pic while you waited for him to grab something from your place and come back, playfully but still impatiently rushing him to return to you 

he thinks you look so beautiful there, so bare faced and sweet

and fuck, you weren’t wearing a bra and he left the ac on for you so your nipples were hard and pressing against the thin material of your tank 

your thighs were in the shot too, full flesh contained by the confinements of those goddamn yoga pants 

he’ll stare at that photo and think about pulling you to the backseat, locking the doors and ravishing you 

he’d pull that tank top under your tits and rip a hole in the crotch of those tight leggings, swearing he’ll buy you another pair as soon as he’s done with you 

he’d kiss you hard, one hand around your throat while the other takes his cock and swirls his fat tip over your clit, knocking before entering

y’know, like a true gentleman

in this fantasy you’re dripping for him, making a complete mess of his backseat, but he doesn’t care, it just turns him on that much more to see proof of your arousal smeared across the leather seats 

as he zooms in on your tits, he’d picture them bouncing while he fucks you, groaning thickly at the thought of taking them in his mouth while he pumps you full of his cock 

his hands would be all over you, squeezing and gripping and pulling you down onto his dick relentlessly 

he has got to be more careful when he gets like this because he loses himself in the hazy daydream that consists of you and him and in return accidentally cums on his phone 

and although he feels irritated and disgusted with himself whenever it happens, he can’t lie… seeing your sweet smile covered with a shot of his cum makes him twitch and almost tempted to go another round with himself 

but he’ll just wait until you come back home to him instead  

levi (҂⌣̀_⌣́)

eren doesn’t jerk off often because he already has you, and jean is too embarrassed to do it, but levi? 

he hates the mess, hates giving into such primal urges, it makes him feel weak and like he’s slipping — slipping with his grip on self control 

but similarly to jean, he’s just a man at the end of the day and will give in when he can’t ignore the tension between his legs any longer  

he doesn’t talk about it with you, worried that it’ll somehow ruin your image of him 

but little does he know that if you knew he touched himself to the thought of you, you’d suck his dick until he could not physically produce another drop of cum

he’s such a busy guy he doesn’t really have the time to do it anyway, and he uses it to his advantage, trying to bury himself in his work instead of his fist 

but when he comes home and you’re not there, the feelings become even harder to push to the back of his mind 

he’ll crawl into the bed you two share, bones heavy and tired and heart hurting from ending his day without you there with him

he’ll reach out for your pillow and lay his cheek against it, exhaling lowly when his hands slowly grapple towards your blanket 

he’ll bring it to his nose and breathe in the remnants of your scent, tangling his legs along with it 

he’ll slowly grind against the warm blanket, groaning with both a need for you to be there and with reluctance towards the entire thing 

he’ll keep some of the material by his nose and lips, breathing you in like a mask while he bunches up the rest of it and unzips his pants 

he’ll free his cock and stroke himself, hesitant to slide between the folds he made with the blanket 

he knows it’s dirty, knows it’s gross and it’ll be a mess after he’s done 

but his very rare, indulgent side will peek around the corner and remind himself that he can rush to your washing machine to wash it before the stain sets and hardens 

and that’s enough for him to give in 

he’ll shakily exhale when he feels the soft fabric of your blanket, his mind immediately racing to you and how your body was once wrapped up with the same material he’s fucking 

it makes his cock twitch, just the thought of you laying there beside him 

he’ll lean his cheek into your pillow as if it were your hand cupping him and take a deep inhale of your blanket, smiling slightly when he can make out hints of your lotion and shampoo 

he thrusts into the tunnel of his fist covered by your blanket, shuddering as he gives in to his urges 

he thinks of you and how happy you are to take care of him, to make him feel good 

he’s a grown, capable adult, he’s used to relying on himself and only himself but when you came around, he slowly but surely let down his guard and allowed you to aid him in things where he doesn’t even really require assistance 

not because he feels as though you think he’s incapable, but because you know he’s been too capable for too long 

even with sex, he never saw it as a necessity or anything of importance 

but now because of you he’s fucking your blanket and shakily murmuring your name 

he doesn’t think about anything crazy, he just thinks of your body connected with his, trying his best to separate his mind and body from what he’s doing, trying to pretend it’s your soft cunt wrapped around him instead 

he thinks of you pushing him onto his back and straddling him, interlocking your fingers beside his head while you ride his cock at a slow and easy pace 

you’d drag your soaked pussy up and down over his thick length, spoiling him rotten while he gazes at the beautiful sight of you on top of him 

you’d grind your hips down into perfect swivels over him, and he’d groan, swallowing hard as his cock twitches inside you 

when your sex life was still new and budding, he used to want to wear condoms to ensure your lack of pregnancy and make clean up easier 

but when you reassured him that you were on birth control and to avoid making a mess he could just cum inside you, and that you’d be so good for him and keep it all in 

well…

who was he to try and argue with logic like that! 

he’d look down and watch as you took him in all the way, making his cock disappear inside you like a magic trick 

you hypnotized him and cleansed his mind of all his stressors and instead filled him with pleasure as you rode him 

your pussy always feels so fucking heavenly when it grips him, giving him exactly what he needs and exactly how he needs it 

he loves cumming inside you, loves guiding you onto your back with a towel underneath you, spreading you open and watching his cum pour out of you 

he’ll shove his fingers inside you and push your hip down when you gasp and squirm away from being too sensitive 

he’ll shush you and fuck his cum back into your cunt, glancing up at you with a faint smug look in his eye 

“i thought you’d promise me you’d be good and keep all my cum inside?” he’d tease you, and you’d whimper, too busy trembling as he fingers your poor overstimmed pussy 

ugh god the sounds you make 

he always muffles you with his palm but really he likes that he’s why you can’t seem to hold it together and control yourself 

and when he spills into the ripples of your blanket, despite his exhaustion from his orgasm, he pulls his boxers up and immediately rushes into your laundry room downstairs 

he’ll quickly run the blanket under some cold water and then throw it in the wash, leaning against the machine and watching it spin in circles, his mind drifting off to the longing he feels for you, wishing that you were there with him 

erwin (๑╹o╹)✎

this poor man is constantly working long nights at the office, you don’t really get to see him as much as either of you would like 

sure the money is nice, but damn spending time with you would be nice too! 

sometimes you stop by and visit him at work to bring him lunch and moments like that make his whole week 

he’ll draw the curtains and shield the view of you away from his coworkers and other subordinates from peeking in, wanting you all to himself for what sparing minutes he has with you 

he’ll haul you into his lap and hold your jaw, pulling you down to kiss him 

it never goes further than just kissing, a long wordless ‘i miss you’, and sometimes he’s almost tempted to give in and forgo his important deadlines and spend that time fucking you on his desk 

but it never happens and you end up leaving sooner than he’d like, wishing him a good day and a promise of seeing him later that night at home 

and then he’ll begrudgingly return to his work 

he’s always one of if not the last one to leave, even though he technically doesn’t have to, he’s the boss and he believes in carrying his own weight and not letting it trickle amongst people who don’t have his work included in their pay grade 

he’ll spend that time heavily focused on his work, just trying his best to get enough done before he leaves, but sometimes, in the late hour of the night, he’ll swear he can catch whiffs of your perfume in the air from when you visited him earlier in the day 

it isn’t a rarity, the times you’ve left him with a hard cock, kissing him goodbye and innocently sauntering out of his office as if you weren’t sitting directly on his clothed dick, with your warm panty clad pussy pressed over him 

and most of the time he just has to direct his attention back to his work and let his cock go down on its own 

but sometimes? 

he doesn’t want to just sit uncomfortably with his cock straining against his slacks 

he’s ashamed to admit it and would never do so under any circumstances, but on occasion when he knows he’s the only one left at the office, he’ll palm himself under his desk, soothing the ache before he frees himself completely, pulling the trash can in front of him just in case he makes a mess 

he’ll stroke his cock, lulling back into his chair as he exhales your name, shutting his eyes and thinking back to your little visit 

he thinks about making you stay with him, about hiking up that pretty dress you put on for him and shoving your panties in your mouth and fucking you

he thinks about lifting you up and carrying you towards his floor to ceiling mirrors that outlook the city, pressing you up against the glass and fucking you while he burns his lips into the side of your neck 

he thinks about making a wreck of you in his office, fucking you on every surface he possibly can 

bending you over his desk, or laying you on top of it, fucking you as you lay across his chair, on the ground, up against the wall — you name it he’s thought it and came to it 

he just loves the idea of doing something so filthy in a professional setting, and of you letting him 

he misses you so much and the way your pussy feels wrapped around his cock, he wishes he could have you teleport to him during those long nights and take care of him the way you do at home 

sometimes he’ll call you when he’s really desperate and needs a little something extra while he touches himself 

he’ll steady his breathing, apologizing if he woke you up 

you always say no and that you’re too busy missing him to be able to sleep 

he chuckles and his heart hurts but it makes his cock twitch in his fist 

“talk to me, dear, i just want to hear your voice for awhile.” he’ll say, balancing the phone between his cheek and neck, the cord from the phone going taut as he leans back and fucks his fist, listening to your sweet voice recount your day 

he’ll listen to you describe how you finally got around to cleaning your kitchen and he’ll fight back a groan, imagining coming home to you on all fours scrubbing the floors and him fucking you on it 

or about how you went to the mall and picked up some new clothes, and maybe a new lacy set you’ll have to try on for him 

and he’s so weak, so painfully horny for you that just hearing you say those words makes him grab the napkins from his tissue box and shoot his load into them 

he holds the phone away from his face to catch his breath, swallowing hard as he tucks himself back into his trousers before he picks up the phone 

“okay i have to get going, i need to finish up my work — luckily i’m almost done so it shouldn’t be long until i’m home dear. thank you for letting me call you. i love you, see you soon.” 

he’ll discard the used napkins into his trashcan and pump a few squirts of hand sanitizer from his desk and into his palms, sighing as he looks over his papers before continuing on with his work 

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.

“Not so little now, am I?”

“You from here?”

Even through the tsunami of bodies swaying slowly from the hypnotic waves swimming from the speakers, you held his attention like a cherished memory. His shaded hazel stare pierced through your curves, afraid that if he looked away for just a second, someone would be in your face begging for your attention. But you kept the crowd surrounding you at bay, only the people you arrived with being allowed into your domain.

He got in with easy access—no struggle, no weird glances from your friends when he squeezed through— almost like you wanted him there.

“Nah,” you shook your head—midnight spirals woven through your many braids rocking in sync with your disagreement. “All girls college, ‘couple hours down south, Boo” Slithering, sneaky hands occupied by your waist almost had you tripping over your own words. Even with platform heels you couldn’t quite reach his towering shoulders resulting in him slightly bending over to hear you over the drunken crowd and ear splitting bass bouncing off of the walls.

He hummed, dark eyes roaming your soft features protruding through the fluorescent lights. You stared back through your full lashes, your gaze almost pulling him into a paralyzed state. You smelt sweet, like a fresh cherry pie with a vanilla finish. He’d wish you spoke more so he had a reason to emerge deeper into that aroma that swept him from his feet.

“South, huh? ‘Can hear the accent on you. What’s your name, pretty?”

His cologne was something dangerous, similar to a mermaid’s voice; once it had you, you were hooked and gone. A buzz cut dyed a deep twilight was his signature haircut, a tattoo that peeked through the ocean fuzz curved sinisterly above his pierced ear.

“⧼★⧽,” you purred into a grin, heart shaped lips spreading to reveal your teeth.

God, he was built. Now prior to even meeting him, you stalked his instagram. Safe to admit It was nothing compared to seeing him in the flesh. All of the speculations that you’ve made about him editing his muscles were thrown out of the window along with your morals.

His arms alone were an attraction ; hard muscle under soft skin, similar to a pillow stuffed with bricks. Thick veins wrapped around his arms like cords. His black shirt suffocated his torso, one wrong move you thought the fabric would give up and disintegrate on the spot.

“⧼★⧽,” he parrots softly. His thick tongue darted to the side of his lips that curved into a grin. He shrugged, “Has a ring to it. Rolls off the tongue. Sweet like candy, too”

The surrounding crowd was almost nonexistent, extras in your book that had no significance to the conclusion. You stepped closer, your gaze still holding him captive. “So..what brings you he—“

“—Look, I’m just going to keep it real with you, Connie,” His ear perked up at the call of his name, surprised that you even knew it without him mentioning it; thick eyebrows rose to his crisp, straight lineup. A red cup that he’d been babysitting since you’ve first noticed him finally touched his lips, his adams apple bobbing with each swallow of his poison.

Curved french tips toyed at his rock-hard abs that were bulging through the thin elastic. You were careful not to rake his navel piercing. Blinding jewels sparkled in the dim light as he nodded slowly to the music bleeding from the speakers.

“I heard ‘bout you Con, and to be completely transparent with you, I just want to fuck.”

He grinned at your boldness behind his cup, sharp canines flashing under the low light. “Heard ‘bout me how?”

“Jus’ some pillowtalkers.”

He hummed, nodding shyly into his cup. “‘S that how you know my name?”

You nodded with a grin. Soft fingertips raked his muscles.

“Yep.”

He hummed again. “My room or yours?”

“My room is two hours away, genius.”

“My room it is.”

Just how he weaved through the crowd, he got out the same way: quiet and light on his feet. On a mission.

Hunger fanned from his pink spit-soaked lips. Oh how Connie’s tongue worked wonders. If he wasn’t using it to talk shit then it was swirling around your puffed clit with his fingers curled softly into your velvet sponge. He worked hand-in-hand with his tongue piercing like it was his personal sidekick, forcing sounds from you that you’ve only heard during solo sessions. You could barely keep your heavy eyelids ajar, Connie’s face unrecognizable from the constant motion blur.

“Con—baby! Mmh!”

Your hands scatter desperately as you try not to flinch out of his addicting touch. French tips scratch at his scalp, tugging him deeper into your sopping cunt as you chase after your release. Your thick thighs hovered over your naked chest—pedicured toes bent and pointing toward where they see fit.

His knees engraved itself into the fluffiness of the carpet below. The necklace that shined so beautifully under the fluorescents and claimed all attention when in public, swung with every jerk of his head. His golden pendant rocked—advancing just enough to also get a taste of your dripping cunt.

“Thaaat’s it, Pretty girl. Open my shit up.”

You obeyed, thick thighs separating to see Connie becoming one with your pussy. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Siren eyes low and dilated, leaving the golden hue of his iris nonexistent.

His dark goatee was soaked in your fixed flow of arousal, dripping hesitantly like cold honey when he came up for a few seconds of air. Pedicured feet rested on each side of broad shoulders, his rough palms having to push your thighs back more so you’ll spread like a rumor.

“Focus on me, Pretty,” Connie purred, soft golden eyes glancing up at you through his full roll of lashes. Your hips rolled in circles, unsure if you wanted to run away from the pleasure or to soak deeper into it.

“Mmm! I’m goin’ to make a mess, I feel!” You whisper, voice cracking with desperation. You couldn’t look at him—even through your shaded eyesight, his gaze was intimidating.

A deep chuckle broke through your hyperventilating. “A mess, huh? ‘You one of them?”

You nodded shyly, swollen lips tucked behind your teeth.

Without missing a beat Connie pulled his lips from you, a thin string of his spit being connected to his chin. His hazel eyes were fully dilated, his pupal similar to an infinite void.

“Connie? W-what are you—“

Interrupted by a kiss that held you in a trance—your words were swallowed. You lingered on his tongue, your DNA seeping deeply between his tastebuds. “‘M goin’ to have fun with you,” he groaned. That cool metal bar that tore through his flexing tongue tickled the roof of your mouth. He moaned between your lips, your soft hands working the strings of his sweatpants.

“I want to see it, Connie.”

He grinned against your lips before slowly standing to his full height. “I got you.”

And right as he revealed his known secret, your jaw visibly grew slack.

“Big, ain’t it?”

Words are clogged in your throat like five o'clock traffic, all you could do was swallow to prepare yourself for the workout of a lifetime. Grey sweatpants dropped just below his twitching, thick thighs. His dick looked so heavy; the weight of his muscle incapable of holding its own against gravity. His balls alone were huge, capable of rebuilding the human race from scratch. You’ve noticed that they’re more melanated than the rest of his body while his shaft was a couple shades lighter and his tip tinted a light pink, giving the illusion of neapolitan ice cream.

“Wh— how is this even possible? It’s like the size of my head, Connie.”

A deep chuckle and a nonchalant shrug later, “‘M not even that hard yet. This is like…. fifty percent.”

Thick cord-like veins fenced his shaft, throbbing in sync with his sluggish heartbeat.

“So you just…walk around with this just swingin’?”

You were hesitant to touch him—well his weapon that stared a hole through you. It looked like it had a mind of its own; almost like it thought its own thoughts and moved at its own accord aside from its owner. You almost jumped out of your skin when Connie took a step forward.

“I mean, yeah. ‘Can’t leave it home, now can I?” His voice was now deeper. Slower. Hungrier. Now you were just playing on his time with your timid ways and he was growing impatient.

You were certain that his dick smelt the fear venting from your pores—growing centimeters each second to evolve into its final form. Still, the pure heaviness kept his tinted tip pointed towards hell. Ironic.

“I’m guessin’ this is how you know ‘bout me?”

You nodded, swallowing pending drool forming at your lips. “Yea. ‘S so much bigger in person.”

He hissed when your hands wrapped around his throbbing shaft. Its pure thickness prevented your fingertips from touching. “W-Which video did you see?”

“‘Was the video of the girl on all fours. Her hands were tied up with her panties I believe. I want that.”

A sinister grin flashed above you. “I got you.”

Biting pillows was never in your rotation of things to do at a strangers' dorm, especially ones that belong to a frat boy. Their unhygienic ways made your skin crawl. But after being informed that his roommate was home and in the next room, muffling your moans with the closest thing to you, felt like the smartest thing to do.

At the time that is. Connie had the brightest idea to dilate your moans with music. Failed miserably. If anything, it broadcasted you.

You somehow found yourself going vocal for vocal with Brent Faiyaz; he’d hit a high note, his beautiful voice straining the poor speakers on Connie’s phone, and you shot one right back seconds later from the result of Connie’s ruthless, calculated strokes.

“I’m workin’ your shit, baby. You feel me?”

The outdated pillow, that definitely saw better nights, was snatched from under you in a quickness, leaving you bare chested on his sheetless mattress. You weren’t even in the right headspace to cringe at the current situation. In any other equation, you would’ve wasted no time packing your belongings and driving back to your dorm in pure silence—high and dry with regret radiating from your skin, but it was almost like Connie held you in a trance. Working his body as if he had a point to prove. Nothing surrounding you seemed to matter. Not even his roommate.

“I feeeel you, Con!”

His pink tinted dick was already lathered in your cream, a wet, sticky echo of your bodies bouncing wall to wall in his cluttered room. His balls were heavy and swung with a purpose and precision, knocking against your puffed clit with each stroke. You tried so hard to swallow your moans—keeping them hidden behind the jumping springs of the mattress. You were successful until Connie’s fingers rolled tiny circles on your clit. You jumped, doe eyes slightly crossing at the sensation.

“Oh-oooh! I don’t want to be too lou-loud, Con. I’m gonna—” your begging knocked against deaf ears. His hips snapped harder and faster against yours, scooting you toward the headboard inch by inch. Since his dick was so heavy, his curve guaranteed pleasure with every plap!

“Let that shit out. Let me know I'm doin’ good, Baby.”

“O-oh my gosh,” you squeaked between slurring words, thick thighs buckling beneath your rocking weight. The loud applause from your ass clapping against his pelvis had you tucking your face in your elbow. Sweat rained down his flexing abs; the glimmer of his bellybutton piercing adding that extra shine.

You were certain his roommate heard everything that happened on the other side of the paper thin wall. Embarrassment claws at your bones before quickly being replaced with pleasure.

Jean was deep in slumber, warm webs of drool slowly seeping from the corner of his open lips and pooling onto his pillow. His snores were so ear piercingly loud that it'll make your eardrums bleed from rooms away. He slept flat on his stomach, left leg hiked up while both beefy arms hugged the plush, drool-soaked pillow providing extra comfort to his head.

It starts off quiet. Too quiet. Hushed high pitched giggles and occasional low smacking from the kisses bounced off the walls of the peeling paint that decorated Connie’s room. Brent Faiyaz played quietly on the speaker on the night stand. It was low enough to keep Jean at bay, so it wasn't an issue.

It became an issue when the rhythmic knocking of Connie’s headboard made its presence known. And poor Jean, still in a dream state, mistaken the knocks for someone banging at the front door.

"The door, Con," He incoherently slurred, voice deep and groggy. Tiredness lingered in his voice along with slight irritation. Who would the fuck would want something at this hour? Jean still had his eyes wide shut, drowsing in and out of consciousness. His voice was no louder than a mumble, but with the walls so thin, he's sure his roommate heard him.

Then he heard it, the unmistakable long feminine moan of his roommate's name.

"Y’so deep, Con!”

“‘Feel you through the rubber, Pretty. Soakin’ my shit, huh?”

“Mhmm!”

Once he heard that, he heard everything else; the slow and sensual music, the deep grunts and dirty talk, the high pitched whining, and how could he forget the headboard beatboxing against his wall. It was like pieces of a puzzle slowly coming together in his dazed mind.

Now, hours later, Jean laid motionless on his back, his left eye twitching in a type of anger that could only be expressed through violence. This was the third person Connie had over on a two day radius and the number is increasing by the day. He’s convinced that Connie purposely removed the pillow from his headboard to toy with his emotions.

It was working.

“‘M gonna’—gonna’ cum again, Connie!”

“Mhm. You don’t have to tell me, I know.”