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nanaminsmoon · 3 months

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busy boy. - a. arlet.(mdni.18+)

a/n: i haven't written smut in a minute y'all so bear with me lol.

wc: 3000+ & lazily proofread.

armin never thought he’d see the day that his every limb would be consumed by the guilt spawned in his chest by the sight of his hands and your golden ‘eren’ necklace fighting for a spot on your bare chest. small tinges of the sickly feeling deformed every cell in his body, as he had you on his bed with your face buried in his pillow and your ass cheek meeting his open palm.

“eren stretch you out like this?”, armin asked against the skin at the top of your back and, fucked out beyond measure, all you could do was shake your head against the pillows. remorse wasn’t a concern for either of you; any loyalty to eren riding the stream spilling out of your eyes, to leave your body and sink into the armin-scented textile pushing against your cheek.

you had expected nothing from armin; he was an unassuming suburban boy, raised by a wealthy grandfather who was loved by everybody in his community, and had instilled immovable morals in his grandson. the first, on a long list of many, being extreme loyalty—a value you wouldn’t have guessed he held so dear to his heart with how fast he let you in after seeing your pretty face on his gate camera. that was because the former was the armin he allowed to leave the confines of his home. and in reality, behind a tightly shut titanium door, was the armin that wanted nothing more than to fuck his best friend’s girlfriend senseless.

that fact unbeknownst to you, walking into it, you felt that expecting armin to bend his personal ethos for the sake of your retribution was self-serving at best, and asinine at worst, but you’d still given it a try. because the chances of your plan backfiring may have been high, but your dignity would not allow for anything else. and receiving a text that was evidently meant for someone else meant that you wanted to hurt eren in a way you knew would cut deep, and rid him of any trust he held in anyone. if he wanted to fuck around, then you’d do him the honour of helping him find out.

as the gate slowly opened, anxiety would inflate and deflate your lungs raggedly as you let go of a very deep breath. though your brain was void of any thought, your body would work for you—moving your legs to walk through his gate once there was enough space to do so. then your path to armin’s front door would be illuminated by the light casting a shadow around the figure stood in the doorway, watching you with their hands in their pockets. judging by the frame, you knew it had to be armin. and that’s when your anxiety increased tenfold.

the surprise brought by you pushing past him so suddenly twisted armin’s lips, making the corners of his mouth rigid. cerulean curiosity would begin a journey; starting at your choice of clothing—a dress unfit for the cold spring night air—before moving down to your legs. smooth brown skin was covered by a translucent façade of comfortability that, judging by the light convulses in your upper body, was not doing much to keep you warm. every intricate detail drew the conclusion that your hasty actions were a consequence of the, less than kind, weather conditions. but that conclusion was made before the scorching words brewing within you, travelled at lightening speed to leave your mouth,

“fuck me”. those two searing syllables rolled off your tongue, sweeping the space separating the both of you—their intensity causing armin to blink dramatically. and the thud caused by the closure of the heavy door would be the only thing to fill the deafening silence.

“huh?”, was all armin could gather amongst the heap of his scattered thoughts flooding the ground beneath his laden feet. but yours would move towards him, cautiously; three steps in his direction would be the extent of your movements towards armin, before you took your coat off—noticing the way he watched you narrowly—and casually let it drop to the ground.

wool lined slippers left the wooden floor, to meet it again, as your advances had armin retreating. one step backward would be the extent of his withdrawals—his limbs frozen by the way you moved towards him in a sensuous slink. not one thought of what to do next came into armin’s head, even as your arms rose—forearms delicately resting on his shoulders and impatient digits entangling themselves in his golden locks, each carrying their own portion of your ulterior motive.

“i said, fuck me, armin”, you reiterated, and words had never carried a physical weight until that moment. their gravity overtook the presence of that already in the air, forcefully pulling him into the ground.

“eren set you up to do this?”, armin asked, his question accompanied by a harsh swallow of whatever he could gather in his dry mouth. tawny lashes flittered longer than they should have at the foreign warmth sat at his nape, before armin grew irritated at their obstruction of his view; your face, the closest it’d ever been to his, with its features firm at the sound of your boyfriend’s name. your fingernails would cease their gentle scratches on armin’s neck, and you’d let out a heavy sigh,

“nah, he's too busy fucking other girls to do that”, you commented, sarcastically. but that one comment would be all it took to clarify your intentions to armin, and the dismay that realisation birthed made his stomach turn.

“so this is your getback? fucking his childhood friend?”, he scoffed in disbelief, mixed with anger. the usually cheerful visage of the blonde boy disfigured into something that made you lower your head; his evident disappointment drowning you in shame.

armin could vividly remember the acidic stinging in his throat when the pretty girl at mikasa’s birthday party introduced herself as eren’s girlfriend. any glimpse he had caught of you, before that, had inspired paragraphs of rehearsed lines he had prepared to ask you on a date. but his best friend’s protective arm around your waist had sent all his preparations falling to his feet. but now, they were all resurfacing and ascending very quickly—leaving his skin blushed and blazing in their wake. the sudden increase in his blood flow all migrated to one place. and, for the first time in all the years he had known eren, armin’s loyalties dissipated and anything holding him back evaporated; leaving behind a desperate man with the only woman he wants right in front of him.

“i don't know if you're brazen, or just a slut”, he said quietly. that last word would surprise you more than it offended you. and, though your vision was zeroed in on the floor, armin could see a slight head tilt of confusion present itself. so he'd place two fingers under your chin, forcing you to face him,

“you're not a slut, are you baby?”, his eyebrows would furrow in feigned concern, as he mirrored your shaking head, “no~, you're not. you're just a very needy girl”, he'd say to you, laughing when your features scrunched in rejection of his statement. albeit far too late, the voice of reason in your head began contesting your previous decisions. the lascivious hands embracing your waist to pull you into the body of the man in front of you had you questioning every thought process that had gotten you to this point.

“the fuck are you doing?”, you asked, moving back. but the hands on your waist would move to the bottom of your spine, to bring you even closer to armin than you were before.

“you said you wanted to fuck, so we’re gonna go upstairs and fuck.”, he answered, kissing the exposed skin on your arms and shoulders. the salacious sounds resounding from just below your ear, mixed with the feel of his wet lips on your skin made you pulsate underneath your underwear, as you let out a deep breath.

it was obvious that your want for him was surface level; shallow, and just a reactionary course of action. but armin’s was the exact opposite. he could feel his affections for you buzzing throughout him; first growing aflame in his heart, before every pump of the muscle distributed them throughout his entire central nervous system. that funny feeling, he couldn’t quite ascertain, circulated throughout him—making his palms and fingertips fuzzy as they gently smoothed over your skin. the moment an explorative hand up your mini dress had discovered the wetness at the front of your underwear, armin had metamorphosed into anticipation incarnate; the thought of drowning himself in your arousal tightening his already taut boxers. yet, despite this, he peeled your dress off you at an agonising pace—practically pausing after every square inch to exhale, as he slowly stroked himself through his pyjama bottoms.

“fuck”, lowly slid out of his mouth. with the way he was acting, it was laughable to think this was the man who had called you ‘needy’ not too long ago. because armin was anguished in front of you.

“you good, arlet?”, you teasingly asked—the sweet taste of your gloss dancing on your tastebuds, as a portion of your bottom lip found itself sucked into your mouth. the rest caught the minimal light from the lamp on armin’s bedside table. cerulean orbs scrutinised the shimmer that wasn’t sandwiched between your teeth, his tongue simulating different variations of how your lips would taste. his hands would take on the responsibilities of his transfixed eyes; traversing your bare body, fingertips feather-light as they did so. and his busy hands left his hardened bulge far too lonely for your liking. so your hand would pay it company—stroking at it gently. and only then would armin’s eyes break away from you, quickly shutting before his head tilted to rest on his shoulder.

“shit.”

once his head raised again, armin’s eyes would be greeted by your provocative ones; coquettishly looking at him as if to taunt him. it was as if you knew of his thinning resolve, and how easily he’d yield to you. as if you knew one look would be all it took for him to lay you flat on your back, your legs elevated by his hands; his palms flat against your thighs, as his lips pecked the insides of them. and, unlike your boyfriend, armin took his time: he languidly made his way to your core, humming against the wet patch on your underwear as he kissed it. the thin barrier between the blonde and the consequences of his actions would be gently pushed aside, exposing your wetness to the gentle breeze blowing into the room through armin’s open window. the only solace provided to you was armin’s delicate lips moving to peck your bundle of nerves, before it was sucked into his mouth. it’d shortly be joined by his tongue; the muscle swirling around it as ungodly noises left both of your mouths. after a few moments, the fabric under his fingers would become annoying, so you’d be hazily lifting your hips so he could slide it off you, spreading your legs wide open as soon as he did.

admittedly, eren ate your pussy well but, for him, it was merely just a means to an end. but you were armin’s end. you were his beginning, as well as his ruin, and the reason why the heavens had given him tastebuds. the nth time his eyes explored their sockets that night would follow his tongue licking one strip from your hole to your clit, and that motion would be all it’d take for armin to taste liquid insanity. once he had, his sole objective became to ravish you and, judging by the cramping fingers he could see in his peripheral vision, he was succeeding. too busy arching, your lower back hadn’t touched the navy duvet since armin had laid you down on it. pleasure was storming its way through you; leaving behind, a light layer of sweat glazing your heated body, adhering you to the fabric beneath you. subconsciously, your hips would search for armin’s mouth and your hand ran through his hair to push him further down onto you. your legs would be clamping around his head, and he’d welcome it; happy to be smothered by your scent and the heat exuded by your blazing skin.

this wasn't about foreplay for armin. it most certainly wasn't about reciprocation and, with the way he was rubbing himself against the bed, you were starting to question if it was even about your pleasure anymore. a myriad of various daydreams his mind had thought up over the years meant that armin was in heaven in between your legs. every year, you and your friends rented out a beach house. and, after he had passed out on his bed half-drunk, armin had been rudely awoken by the muffled sounds coming from you and eren’s room. abashedly, it ended in him pulling his dick out and stroking himself until he had to bite his lip to hide the moans. he knew he shouldn't have, but he couldn’t just turn his ears off. so he had just laid there, listening intently. focused on every vocal fluctuation and different intonation of his best friend’s name, armin couldn’t help but imagine all the positions eren had to have put you in to make you sound like that. at that point, his dick was so hard that there was no way he could possibly go back to sleep. so he’d sat up, the back of his head against the wall, as he fucked into his hand. at the end of it, he’d been left with a wet hand and a soaked ego. but today he had you all over him, and armin had always been a messy eater, so it was no wonder he had you on his chin, cheeks, lips, nose, and anywhere else your wetness could reach.

“armin, i'm gonna cummm”, you cried, and armin’s ministrations slowed—his tongue moving slower against you. there’s nothing he wanted to hear more than you whining underneath him, and he got it. as well as your acrylics scratching at his scalp, and his arms. once you did finally cum, armin licked it all up with a smug smile.

any second armin spent with his dick in his boxers, instead of in you, was time frivolously wasted. so they, as well as his pyjama bottoms, would be landing somewhere on his floor very quickly. red with rage, and leaking, his tip flirted with your hole for a moment—collecting any arousal that hadn’t dripped onto the bedding beneath you and tapping the combination of that and his precum on your stomach and thighs. a sick part of him wanted his nut all over you, cloaking you so he could coerce his brain into thinking that you were his. even if it was just for the night. those fantasies distracted him from what was in front of him and once he’d come to, and taken a look at your face, he’d find that you were a mess. so his palm would meet your cheek gently, a fond smile plastered on his face once your eyes glimmered again.

“wake up for me, baby, i need you here for this”, he said, picking up your hand to kiss it. following this gesture, romanticism would seem to fizzle out; your face would soon be in armin’s pillow, while his hand carved out an arch in your back. missionary seemed too personal; intimate. wanton need was radiating off armin, and the last thing he needed was it being fuelled by the hazy fucked-out look in your eyes. because he could only imagine how he would’ve felt seeing the facial expression that accompanied that small whine that came out of your mouth when he slid his tip into you—the small action driving you to insanity already. impatience would push you further onto him, but armin’s smart wits would hold you before you got any further.

“what’s eren been doing to you for you to be this needy?”, he chuckled, kissing your shoulders. initially he pushed himself into you very slowly, giving the both of you time to adjust to each other.

the buried anger armin felt when he realised he was just a pawn in a lover’s spat would soon reappear and you'd feel every inch of it. it was vengeful and unforgiving in a way that stuck your drooling lips to the pillowcase. swallowed emotions flowed through him, concentrating themselves at the place your bodies met, as he slammed into you. discipline was a concept too far gone for the both of you, and all you had to go off of was unfiltered carnality weaving between your bodies. five of armin’s fingertips imprinted themselves into your hip, while the remaining five grappled to grab onto his headboard, after trusting you to maintain the deep arch in your back. helpless hands had been searching for a grip on reality, but they were denied every time,

“don’t tap out on me, y/n, you wanted this now i need you take it”, armin chided. yet your hands wouldn’t cease their search for solace and, in gross irony, they had knocked over the only framed picture armin kept in his room; an old image of him, eren, and their other friends. and, as if an act of orchestrated symbolism, it’d be ignored. the framed expression of their friendship would dramatically fall to the floor, while armin remained hyperfixated on your soft whines—melodic and far too quiet. he’d lean forward, but the only coherency you’d maintained allowed you to turn your head in embarrassment. obviously he’d make you face him, smirking when he saw the teeth marks below your lips,

“nobody’s home, so be as loud as you need, baby. we got too much money to have neighbours, ain't nobody hearing you but me”, he smirked, kissing your skin, and approvingly humming against it when your volume raised.

each time armin slammed into you, it displaced any sound thought—leaving behind a babbling mess and a mouth fighting to beg for something armin couldn’t comprehend.

“speak to me, baby. i need words”, he said onto your jaw. and, again, that forbidden aspect of ‘intimacy’ would push any thoughts of kissing you out of his mind. so he’d refrain, and distract his eyes with the white ring forming at the base of his dick.

“’m gonna cum, armin.”, is all you'd be able to get out, but it'd be all armin needed to move his hand down to rub at your clit. and the extending rubber band in your stomach would endure one more poke from armin’s dick before it snapped unceremoniously, robbing you of your vision. lightening knuckles and cramping fingers accompanied unrestrained moans of armin’s name. in your body’s attempt to get more of armin, it’d push you back and, in turn, force armin’s release out of him. he’d already been on a thinning rein, but it finally gave in at the feeling of you tightening around him.

“i'm gonna—ffffuck—you want it, baby? want my nut leaking outta you?”, he asked, eyebrows scrunched at both the feeling, and deep contemplation of which part of your body would be painted by his release. but, ultimately, his stuttering hips would make that decision for him. as well as your bold words.

“nut in me, armin, pleaseee”, you begged loudly, and armin would fulfil your wishes instantaneously.

for a good few minutes, all that was audible in armin’s bedroom was heavy breathing, neither of you said anything. it was as if you had somehow mutually agreed that expressing how you felt at that point was ghastly inappropriate. though you both knew, and you could feel all of armin’s emotions leaking out of you to slip down your leg, you just remained quiet. the only sound you’d make would be a hushed hiss caused by armin hastily pulling himself out of you. the hands holding you would also remove themselves, not even bothering to catch you when your arms gave out and you fell onto the pillowy surface beneath you. turning around felt physically impossible; how were you meant to face armin when the trajectory of your relationship had been altered for life? instead you’d just lay on your side, staring at the wall.

“don’t tell eren, okay?”, you said to armin once he came into your line of vision. knowingly, his head would be shaking as his hands busily rummaged through his bedside draw.

“of course i won’t”, he smiled at you, finally pulling out a tube from the draw before closing it again.

“the fuck is that?”, you sat yourself up.

“lube”, he answered, prompting you to look at him with confusion scrawled all over your face, “you got your getback for him cheating, but i haven’t got mine for being used”, he smirked.

#≡;- ꒰ °nanaminsmooninc.꒱#aot x black reader #aot x black y/n #aot armin #armin x black reader #armin x reader #armin aot #armin x y/n #armin arlert #armin smut #armin x black y/n #armin x you #armin attack on titan #aot x reader #aot smut #attack on titan x black reader #attack on titan

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nanaminsmoon · 5 months

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5 minutes ~ e.jaegar x goodgirl!reader. mdni. 18+

a/n: i hate the ending for this one, but if i didn't post it now then it'd be in my drafts for years so she had to go lol.

wc: 2976 + not proofread properly.

the saying ‘opposites attract’ was coined for you and eren, with him being the night to your day. he represented the dark cesspools of society that your parents had raised you to stay very weary of. in fact, if there was a textbook definition for the type of boy you’d been warned to stay far, far away from, beside it would be a collage of eren’s mugshots. but first meetings with no knowledge of each other’s histories was the intersection of the paths you’d always considered to be parallel; perhaps walking beside each other, but never converging. and their merging would be caused by the fateful day you crossed the authoritarian line your parents had drawn very boldly since you were very young.

the magnetic field surrounding the young man had been unbeknownst to you, but he was the south to your north pole, reeling you in all night until you inevitably met in the midst of the crowd of moving bodies. you’d been second-guessing your decision to agree to attend ymir’s party with your friends, but any dubious thought in your mind dispersed the second your eyes met eren’s lidded ones. even with the dimmed lighting, you could sense them scanning you—leaving blazing traces of want in their wake. you’d hoped the embarrassment boiling inside of you wasn’t obvious, but it had set your body alight—its heat emanating off your figure to waft into eren’s smug face.

if ‘trouble’ had a look, and smell, it would be eren. it’d have his face—inviting yet seemingly cunning, and unreadable in its arrangement of his perfect features. it’d possess his ability to send a militia of chills up your spine the same way too—unsettlement marching up your spine at the potent smell of cigarette smoke, cologne, and whatever alcohol was in that red solo cup. magnetism brewed in eren’s chest, traversing through his bloodstream to reach the point of his fingertips that lightly traced the exposed skin on your arm. once it’d transfer to you, glances were no longer stolen, and neither were dances—both were given freely. and, alongside the pair, would go your moral compass, making you unrecognisable even to yourself as you moved with him—your ass pushing into his growing bulge. the heat transferring at the point where your bodies met would cancel out that of his burning gaze on you. that and his feverish hands grabbing onto your hips, catching everything you threw back on him. all the while, a cigarette would sit comfortably between his lips, grey smoke slipping past it to escape his mouth every time he groaned at the feeling of you brushing against him.

the newfound courage cloaked you, blurring your presence in the crowd of moving figures thus making it impossible for your friends to find you. sense regained, they stood at the door all ready to go home, but ‘home’ hadn’t been a thought in your mind since the smoke eren blew into your mouth, ascended into your brain to cloud your sense of better judgment. there would be a moment where your eyes would dart to them as they beckoned for you to join them, but eren would catch on quickly. and his fingers, hugging his cigarette between them, would wrap themselves around your chin as they turned you to face him,

“gimme 5 more minutes”, his cheek would be against yours as he spoke into your ear, and you’d nod like a fool as he smiled at you and took your hand in his, leading you upstairs.

and five minutes is all it’d take for the barrier holding back your tears to collapse unceremoniously, making way for the stream to coat the pillow cases of ymir’s parents’ bed. the combination of your wanton desperation, pleasure, and makeup would stain the material pressed up against your face—adhering it to your moist skin in a way that made your conscience pulsate with guilt. but the once clear-cut lines on your morality would fade with every collision of eren’s skin against yours. the moments leading up to this position had gotten you used to the way eren’s fingertips dug into your hips and, though similar to that of when you were dancing together, this time he could clearly see the way your flesh recoiled when your skin met his. finally, he could clearly hear the small, squeals leaving your mouth as his dick bullied its way in and out of you, leaving you a fucked out, dishevelled shell of yourself. and that shell that would soon be filled to the point of leakage when your walls tightening around him, unexpectedly stole eren’s release from him. and, somehow, five minutes would turn into two hours, until you were both dragged back into reality by heavy knocks on the door.

call it naivety, or wishful thinking that your actions would never catch up to you, but you had expected to never see eren ever again after that night. but the following months would be spent interweaved in each other. labels weren’t yet decided, so they changed depending on the day; on random evenings, you were eren’s alibi—voice shaking as you lied for him, assuring his parole officer that you’d been watching movies together when, in reality, you hadn’t even known where he was. and, on saturdays, your lap served as his most comfortable pillow as the incomprehensible words you read from your favourite book fell onto his face from above him.

but skipped classes, and unexplainable disappearances meant you soon found yourself under heavy surveillance. from being driven to and from uni, to not being allowed to meet friends, and being basically trapped in your home. the joy shared between eren and yourself had been for you two only. seemingly, the portions hadn’t been distributed evenly meaning that your friends and family sat with plates full of disdain and worry, prepared for a boy they didn’t even know. all they saw of eren was his effect on you; increased callousness, tanking grades, and constant escapades that rendered you a ghost floating in and out of their lives. and soon there’d be a fury-fuelled war waged between two sides; one side that hated eren for ruining you, and the other that hated your family for taking you from his grasp just as he was about to pull you from heaven into his unprincipled clutches.

unfortunately for your friends and family, armageddon couldn’t stop eren from trying to reach you. no matter how many times you denied him, he’d try his luck at getting to you through any means necessary; he’d call you, text at stupid hours of the night asking you sneak out, this boy even disguised himself as a delivery driver just to see you. but every single advance was (very reluctantly!) declined; calls rejected, texts ignored, and, after gathering yourself, you’d tell him that you hadn’t ordered anything and he had the wrong house. bottom lip in between your teeth, to combat the tears hanging over your waterline, you’d closed the door, taken a deep breath, before making your way upstairs to text him an essay of an apology.

that day, you forbode eren from coming to you but, as anyone who knew eren would tell you, he’d never been good at following instructions. so you’d be doing your uni work, when you’d hear loud ass music playing outside. expecting more self-control from eren, there wouldn’t even be a second where you thought it’d be him. even when incessant honking began, you’d ignore it and continue trying to replenish your plummeting gpa. and you’d succeed at keeping focused. until you heard a small knock on your door.

“y/n, you know that guy?”, your brother asked you.

“what guy?”, a finger pointing to the window would be your brother’s answer. and your limbs would freeze at the sight of the black hellcat outside, but they’d be quick in moving you once you saw eren’s car door start to open. by the time you opened your front door, eren was walking up your driveway and his determined gaze would soften once it landed on you. that was before he saw the frustrated presentation of your features as you marched towards him, then he’d just chuckle at you. both hands flat on his back, you’d push eren back to his car as he laughed and questioned you. but he’d get no answers until you shoved him against the car—his back facing your house—and started lecturing him,

“why are you here?”, you’d chide through clenched teeth.

“what, i can’t come see you?”, he’d ask, leaning on his car and reaching for your hand. stress would have you moving your hands from his own, as you rolled your eyes at him.

“not at my family home, eren, no!”, you’d let out an exasperated sigh, “are you out of your damn mind?! coming here and making all this noise, just because you ‘want to see me’?”,

“i miss us, y/n”, he’d say, eyes flittering all over your face as they examined your vexed expression. at this point, the anger was just a shield protecting you from his words because you knew that as soon as they penetrated your skin to enter your heart, you’d fold like a damn lawn chair. and, opportunistic as he was, eren would take the time you spent processing his confession as a chance to get sit his fingertips, one-by-one, on your hips. too deep in thought, you’d have no time to react before he pulled you closer to him.

“not now, eren.”, you’d instruct, placing your hands on top of his.

“you ain’t miss me?”, he’d tilt his head.

pretending not to want eren did nothing but spur him on. mainly because he knew that there was a mutual longing keeping you two connected. as harsh as you tried to be, eren could feel your internal conflict in your movements—the sour irritation in your words was no match for the way your body instinctually yielded to his touch. it’d be still as eren’s arms enveloped you, his heart joyous at the feeling of your body weight slowly increasing—your every appendage relaxing onto him. naturally, he’d grow smug and pull back to slyly observe the way he knew you’d chase his lips, just like every other time he stopped kissing you, and he’d grin to himself.

“i did, but not here.”, you’d shake your head, “not like this”, you’d say. and, in a successful attempt to still your head, eren’s hands would cup your cheeks before he gently pressed his lips against yours. there’d be a split second where your body would try and move you away from him but, as soon as his tongue gently grazed your bottom lip, you’d neglect your surroundings—hands massaging the back of his neck, as you pulled him closer.

“why not?”, he’d ask, quietly. his fervid gaze possessed enough heat to turn you into a patch of liquid, very similar to the one in the front of your underwear. and, though composure wouldn’t come easy to you, you’d grapple for it anyways, moving from him and ignoring the smirk on his face as he watched you.

“you know why, now get off me before i scream and get the police called on your dumbass”, the feigned innocence would break and eren would outright laugh at your threat. enthralled eyes would watch the joy spread all over his face, the feeling contagious as you slowly felt the corners of your lips rise. that’d be before you realised where you were, and quickly moved your hand to cover his mouth to muffle the bellowing sound.

“i wouldn’t mind hearing you scream.”, he’d say after removing your hand from his face, “it’d make driving here worth it.”, he teased. and, once again, you’d be falling into his deep green eyes, beguiled by his intoxicating gaze. reminders of reality would only come when a quick flicker of your eyes to the building behind eren’s car revealed your front door opening. equally as curious as the young boy stood at the door, eren would turn but you’d quickly shoo your brother back inside, originally aiming to follow him.

“just gimme 5 minutes”, a low voice would ask, stopping you in your tracks. eren’s recklessness always seemed to rub off on you. perhaps remnants of it latched onto you when he held you close to himself, or maybe his lips spoke it to you as he kissed you. but, without fail, it’d rid you of everything you thought you knew about yourself. and it’d also have you following him into the backseat of his car.

though it was never expressed to you, you were just as much of a forbidden fruit for eren as he was for you. a chair occupied by thoughts of your chaste nature had anxiously sat in his heart, as the thought of his sodden fingerprints being the ones to pervert you spun around his mind. that was until eren placed your hands on the back of said chair, bending you over it and making his peace with sending you back to your parents with his depraved handprints, and debauched lip prints singed all over your body. forbidden as you may have been, eren couldn’t get enough of you. you were a banned berry that he couldn’t help but sink his teeth into, letting the taste of you reside in every corner of his mouth—your juices slipping out of the corners of his lips as you squirmed, and scratched at his leather seats. no more than a few minutes passed with you on eren’s lap, his lips busy marking your neck and chest—any regard for your parents’ reactions was absolved the moment your fingers intertwined at his nape to lightly tug at his hair. the only thought on his mind for weeks had been the taste of you, so he’d wasted no time in moving his lips from you and laying you flat on your back on his backseats. and your comprehension of any moment that followed that was wiped out by the tsunami of pleasure that flooded your conscious mind, as well as the white flash that accompanied it stealing your vision. the last thing you remembered was eren’s eyes—locked on yours—as his teeth plucked at your panties, pulling them down your thighs.

for most, self-reflection would be triggered by the fact that their partner’s friends and family hated them with a scorching passion, but not eren. he welcomed the scrutiny with open arms because, as toxic as it sounded, he had learned to love being a terrible influence. he luxuriated in being the guy your friends begged you to leave, those conversations always ending in teary arguments wherein you’d have to fight to justify your want for him. he loved knowing that even as every mouth around you told you to stay far away from him, his devious one always brought you right back. that, sweet as you were, you were addicted to the nasty way he fucked you; bent over in his car, or anywhere he could hide you from prying eyes. and the fact that, with every load he filled you with, droplets of his identity had been inserted into you with all of them being preserved perfectly, with not an ounce of alteration. whether that be his attitude, or his need to fuck the sanity out of you, you resembled eren more and more with every connection of his tip and your cervix. slowly, your vocabulary had matured to match his and you had started using words he’d never expect to hear from such a pretty, innocent-looking face,

“ffuck, i’ve missed this dick so much, eren”, you’d keened, ridding eren of any rational thought. his hips would hasten on their own at the sound of your lascivious wording, deepening every breath your lungs fought to take. and, as good as you felt, corrupting a good girl had never been something eren had wanted to do. usually, he liked his girls experienced, but you had a charm about you.

he liked the way your eyes glimmered at him as he spoke to you, and the adorable way you remembered small details about him. after a while, he began enjoying the way he was disintegrating every single value your parents had instilled in you, as well as you just letting him. but no more than the way you moaned his name, and made lust-filled promises that disgraced the parents who had worked so hard to raise you,

“i’m all yours, ‘ren, i belong to nobody but you”, you’d cried out, and he’d gently kiss your cheek. the romantic work of his lips, was in direct opposition to the cruel way his dick hit that spongy spot inside you, coaxing your release from you and refusing to stop.

“i know, baby, you ain’t gotta tell me. i know. you’re all mine, and can’t nobody do shit about it.”, he'd reply. and he was right. because, as long as he made you feel the way he did, eren was untouchable. whether that be for 5 minutes, or for the rest of your life.

#≡;- ꒰ °nanaminsmooninc.꒱#aot x black reader #aot x black y/n #eren x black reader #eren x black fem!reader #aot eren #eren x you #eren x reader #eren smut #eren yeager #eren x y/n #eren aot #eren jaeger

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