#eren aot

[empathicliar]

eren loves pussy. nothing more or nothing less. he loves looking at pussy, sliding his fingers through the folds to feel just how much his efforts have paid off. he loves kissing pussy. something about his lips touching everything puffy and sensitive has him grinding into the sheets, almost dragging an orgasm out of himself.

but most of all, eren yeager loves eating pussy. he loves massaging his long tongue onto your clit, flicking that muscle just enough for those gaspy moans to fall and a smirk he refuses to hide upturns on his lips. he loves holding you in place and watching your body fully submit to his. 

he absolutely adores the way you push him down when you get desperate and it feels almost impossible not to ride his face from below. he takes pride in making you feel good, so when it comes to you showing off some new panties you’d ordered from victoria's secret and that pussy print just keeps nagging at him, he’s losing it inside and out.

you pop the string on the side of your curvy hip and frown. “ i don't think i like the pink. “ you pout with doubt, assuming your husband would agree until that mirror is hogged with his body. 

head cocked beyond degrees and he’s just staring, eyes flushed over with hunger that can't be disdained by food. he’s craving you in every way it almost feels wrong for him to rub your body innocently.

 and now, he’s goneeee.

which isn't surprising considering he’s been eating your pussy through the seams of wink pinkie underwear for ten minutes, uttering “ too pretty to take off yet.” whenever you pleaded for more. those almond colored locks gained nothing but tugs the whole time he teased your body, spit on the mattress from his lack of morals. his chin wet with his own fluid and your arousal that kept pouring.

that lace rubs and nips and sometimes hurts a little too fucking good when eren pushes his head into your cunt, face almost completely covered from how tight your thighs hold him in. it's like he's proving a point down there, that he doesn't have to do much to get you off, that one flick can send you overboard, wanting more. -  that you may be easy when it comes to him.

and when you're too high off of pleasure to think, he can get you to admit that every. single. time.

[gloomyluvr]

watching media with my “comfort characters” to feel better, and they’re all fucking dead 😭🙏

[keraawrites]

One more time

Summary: You're ovulating, and the only person who can fix it is your ex-boyfriend.

Context; Just a drabble full of some filthy smut ;)

Word count — 772

Your fingers aren’t enough. Your toy isn’t enough. Nothing is. You’re losing your mind, the ache between your legs a constant, maddening pulse. It’s been like this all damn day—your body hot, slick, restless. And the only thing that can satisfy you is the one person you swore you’d never call again.

Your pride fights it. Claws at you, tells you to hold out. But when your fingers slip between your thighs again and all you get is frustration, you know you’ve lost.

Your hands are shaking when you text him.

You up?

He answers in seconds.

Yeah, what’s up?

You hesitate, then type exactly what you need.

I need you to fuck me. Just once. Just tonight.

The typing bubble appears immediately. Disappears. Then pops up again.

Be there in 10.

Your stomach flips. Your thighs clench. And just like that, anticipation makes your slick, messy pussy throb even more.

When Eren knocks, you open the door in nothing but an oversized T-shirt. No bra. No panties. His sharp green eyes rake down your bare thighs before dragging back up, dark with something unreadable.

He looks good. Too good. Grey sweats hanging low, black hoodie unzipped just enough to tease the toned chest beneath. His hair’s a mess, jaw sharp, lips parted like he already knows exactly why you called.

“You look good, ma,” he murmurs, stepping inside.

“I don’t wanna talk.” You fist his hoodie, yanking him down into a kiss that’s all heat, all desperation. He groans into your mouth, hands grabbing, groping, gripping you like he owns you.

His fingers slide beneath your shirt, barely brushing your soaked slit before he pulls back with a sharp inhale.

“Jesus, you’re dripping.”

“Shut up,” you whimper, grinding against his hand. “Just fuck me.”

Eren smirks, amusement thick in his voice. “Damn, baby. Ovulating?”

Your body stiffens, but he just chuckles, hoisting you up like you weigh nothing. “Yeah, I know how you get,” he murmurs, dropping you onto the couch, parting your legs with ease. “All needy and messy, like nothing’s good enough unless it’s me.”

You open your mouth to argue, but the words die in your throat when his tongue drags up your swollen clit.

A choked moan rips from you. Your hands fly to his hair, nails digging in as he eats you like he’s starving—licking, sucking, flicking his tongue in a way that makes your back arch. But it’s not enough.

“Eren, please,” you beg, breathless.

He groans against your pussy, fingers sliding into you, stretching you open. “I knew you’d come back,” he mutters, watching your face as he fucks you with his fingers. “Knew no one else could fuck you like me.”

You can’t even deny it. Not when his fingers curl just right, not when your pussy clenches tight around him, already so close.

But you don’t want his fingers.

You need him.

“Just fuck me,” you whimper, dragging him up. “Please.”

Eren groans, standing and shoving his sweats down just enough to free his cock. Thick. Hard. The tip flushed and leaking. He grips it, rubs the head against your soaked folds, teasing.

“Say it,” he orders. “Say you need me.”

Your pride nearly stops you. But then he taps his cock against your clit, torturously slow, and you break.

“I need you, Eren,” you whisper, voice raw. “Only you.”

That’s all it takes.

He thrusts in, stretching you wide, filling you up like you were made for him. The groan he lets out is guttural, his grip on your thighs tightening as he sinks in deep.

“Fuck,” he growls, forehead pressing to your shoulder. “You’re so fuckin’ wet. This pussy missed me, huh?”

You don’t answer—can’t, not when he starts pounding into you, rough and deep, hitting the spot that makes your legs shake.

You let him take you apart. Let him fuck you until your moans turn to breathless sobs, until your nails carve into his back, until you come so hard your vision blurs.

Eren groans, hips stuttering as he chases his high. “Gonna cum inside,” he grits out. “You want it?”

“Yes,” you sob. “Yes, please.”

That’s all it takes.

Eren buries himself deep with a strangled moan, filling you up with everything he has. He stays there, cock twitching inside you, arms wrapped around you like he’s afraid to let go.

And maybe—just maybe—you are too.

But you don’t say that.

Instead, you just lay there, spent, his cum dripping from between your legs.

Eren presses a lazy kiss to your temple, chuckling as he pulls back.

“One more time?”

And fuck, you already know the answer.

𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘺 𝘮𝘦, 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘬𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘢𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 ©

[lowryuk]

HELLO! I saw that you’re doing requests now😍

Could I get a ex!bf eren x reader who’s about to get married? But she’s getting married to someone who’s like… useless. No job, no education, nothing really going for him. You’re just in a rush to get married because you believe it’s the next step but when eren comes back into your life, everything changes.

Thank you!

(Also could I be 🪿 anon?)

First request and first anon emoji?! Say less 😩🙏

Hope you enjoy, 🪿 anon <3

OTW

WC: 3.5K

tw: rough sex, cheating, possessive!eren, choking, dirty talk, fingering, toxic relationship, oral (f receiving), angst

Today was the day you’d dreamed of since you were a little girl.

Months of meticulous planning, dress shopping, vendor drama, flower arrangements, and all the wedding stress—it was supposed to be worth it. Your wedding day was meant to be one of the best days of your life, a celebration of two people coming together, ready to build a future.

Your fiancé was a great guy. He was sweet, charismatic, and came from a wonderful family. On paper, everything seemed perfect. In your mind, this felt like the natural next step, marriage, a family home, kids, a stable 9-5 job. You were on the right path. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

Yet, no matter how many times you repeated it in your head, it still felt wrong. Because it was wrong. 

Your fiancé could barely hold down a job and had no ambition to further his education or build a stable career. Instead, he dreamed of making it as a streamer. He poured thousands of dollars into equipment while you carried the weight of all the financial responsibilities.

Fuck.

Fucking Eren Yeager.

Always showing up at the worst possible time.

Where was this logic when you said yes to your fiancé’s proposal? How did it take you until now, after everything had been paid for, with only an hour left before you walked down the aisle—to finally realize the truth?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Was it too late to back out now? Your hair and makeup were already done, the final step was slipping into the dress. But you couldn’t. You fucking couldn’t. The thought of stepping into that gown, walking down that aisle, and tying yourself to this life made your chest tighten. You didn’t want this. Not with him.

Or were you just overthinking because Eren was here?

Because one single text from him was all it took to unravel everything. A few words on a screen, and suddenly, your entire perspective on your relationship shifted. You should have blocked him. Maybe then, your heart wouldn’t be sinking with dread and doubt right now. But old habits never die, and Eren Yeager was the worst one of them all.

He was your on-and-off boyfriend, the bad habit you could never quite break. The two of you were stuck in a toxic cycle, one that always left you shattered by the end of it. No matter how many times you tried to walk away, you somehow always found your way back to him.

Until two years ago.

You finally cut contact, determined to move on for good. It didn’t take long before you found yourself in a new relationship, one that felt stable, safe, and predictable. A little over a year in, your fiancé proposed, and you said yes.

Eren didn’t find out about the engagement until a week before the wedding. You had practically begged your mutual friends to keep quiet, knowing exactly what he would do if he found out. Because no one knew Eren Yeager better than you. And if there was one thing about him, it was that he never let go of something he still considered his.

You heard that he tried to move on, that he tried to heal and become better. But relationships never seemed to work out for him. No matter how hard he tried, nothing ever stuck.

So when he found out about your engagement and realized your wedding was only a week away, he scoffed. What a fucking joke.

You hated to admit it, but it wasn’t Eren’s reaction you were afraid of. The real reason you never wanted him to find out was because of your reaction. Because the moment he came back into your life, all those feelings you worked so hard to bury would come flooding back, drowning you in something you thought you had left behind. It drove you crazy. Because marriage, commitment, a future, you couldn’t imagine it with anyone but him.

You tried everything to move on. Therapy, long talks with friends, convincing yourself that this new relationship was what you needed. But deep down, you knew the truth. If Eren came back, if he reached out even once, you wouldn’t be strong enough to resist. You would run straight back into his arms because no matter how much time had passed, that was the only place you had ever truly belonged. 

–

Eren wasn’t going to miss your wedding. Of course not.

You weren’t just some ex-girlfriend he could forget. You were the biggest part of his life, the one person who knew him better than anyone, the one he loved in a way that was all-consuming. His first love, his greatest mistake, his one true obsession. And call him the villain if you want, but he wasn’t about to let you walk down that aisle without a fight.

Because you didn’t belong to that man. You belonged to him.

And he knew, deep in his bones, that you wanted him too.

How? 

Because when his message was marked as delivered, when you didn’t block his number, when you didn’t ignore him like you should have, he knew. You could have deleted it, tossed your phone aside, pretended he didn’t exist. But you didn’t.

You read it.

And that was all he needed.

A slow smirk curled on his lips as he leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping lazily against his phone. You were probably staring at the screen right now, heart racing, pulse hammering, torn between doing what was right and what you really wanted. He had seen it all before. The guilt. The hesitation. The battle between logic and desire. But in the end, you always came back to him.

He exhaled, his green eyes wandering the cathedral. If you weren’t going to come to him, he would come to you.

So why wait?

Eren stood, adjusting his suit and tie, smoothing out the fabric because he wanted to look good for you. With quiet, purposeful steps, he made his way toward the back rooms, slipping past the crowd with ease. He knew exactly where you were.

And you knew he was coming.

The gentle knock at the door sent a shiver down your spine. You didn’t need to ask who it was. You knew.

Your fingers curled against your dress, gripping the soft material as if it could somehow anchor you. If you let him in, this was over before it even began. The wedding. The life you had planned. The man waiting for you at the end of that aisle.

And if someone caught you?

You squeezed your eyes shut, inhaling sharply, willing yourself to resist. But then, his voice pierces through, low and familiar, the sound wrapping around you like a ghost from your past.

“Can I come in?”

Your breath hitched.

And before you could stop yourself, you were already standing. 

You opened the door, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

Eren’s breath hitched, his green eyes softening as he took you in. You looked breathtaking, the white dress hugging you perfectly, the veil framing your face like you were something holy. He had dreamed of seeing you like this one day, but not like this. Not when he wasn’t the one waiting at the end of that aisle.

He hadn’t expected to get emotional, but seeing you standing there, dressed as a bride, made his head spin. This was real. Too fucking real. He was an hour away from losing you forever.

He could barely maintain eye contact when he muttered, “Don’t.”

One word. Simple. But it was enough to make your throat tighten, enough for tears to well up in your eyes.

“Eren, I can’t,” you whispered, shaking your head, trying to steady yourself.

“Don’t say that,” he pleaded, stepping closer, his voice rough with desperation. “You can. You know you don’t want this. Don’t do something you’re going to regret, something that’s going to hurt both of us. Listen to your heart for once.”

You let out a bitter laugh, wiping at your eyes. “Fuck you. How many times have I listened to my heart, only to get hurt over and over again because of you?”

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t back down. “It beats being tied to someone you don’t even remotely like for the rest of your life, doesn’t it?” His voice lowered, dangerously steady. “Because you can’t stand there and tell me you don’t feel anything. You wouldn’t have opened this door if you didn’t.”

Eren never let you bullshit him. He saw right through you, every single time.

He exhaled sharply, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “Tell me. Do I have to sit there and watch you marry another man? Or are we getting the fuck out of here?”

Your heart pounded so hard it hurt.

You knew the answer before you even spoke.

“Let’s go.”

–

Eren’s lips were glued to yours as the elevator ascended, the weight of everything you had just done crashing down on you both. The kiss was frantic, messy, filled with a desperation that neither of you could suppress. It was like you had been drowning for the past two years, and now, finally, you could breathe again.

His hands roamed your body, gripping your waist like he was terrified you would disappear, like this was all some fever dream that would slip through his fingers if he let go. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss until you were completely lost in him.

The elevator chimed, the doors sliding open, but neither of you moved. Not until Eren finally tore himself away, chest heaving, pupils blown wide with something unrestrained.

“Come on,” he murmured, voice low and thick with want.

He didn’t have to ask twice.

Fingers laced together, he pulled you down the hall, fumbling with the keycard until the door swung open. And the second it shut behind you, he was on you again, lips claiming yours like he had every right to. 

His hands tore at your dress, fabric splitting beneath his grip as he ripped it apart from the top. If you were in your right mind, you would have yelled at him for it. But right now, you didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was being closer to him.

The ruined dress slipped from your body, pooling at your feet, leaving you bare except for the white lingerie beneath. The moment Eren laid eyes on you, his breath hitched. His gaze darkened, pupils blown wide with desire.

“Fuck me,” he rasped, dragging a rough hand over his mouth as if to contain himself. “You were gonna give all this to him? Hmm? He wouldn’t even know what to do with you.”

His words sent a wicked thrill down your spine, but before you could respond, his lips crashed into your neck, hot and possessive. His tongue flicked against your skin, followed by sharp nips that made your head tilt back with a gasp. He sucked until he left deep purple splotches blooming along your throat and collarbone, evidence of his claim.

Large hands slid down to knead your ass, squeezing as he pulled your body flush against his. Then, just as quickly, he lifted you into his arms, carrying you toward the bed. The softness of the mattress barely registered before his weight caged you beneath him.

As much as he loved the sight of you in delicate white lace, he couldn’t wait to see you bare. His fingers made quick work of your bralette, unclasping it with ease. The moment the fabric slid away, exposing your breasts, Eren groaned, his head dropping for a moment as if the sight physically weakened him.

“Eren,” you whined, tugging at his tie, your nails grazing his chest through his half-unbuttoned shirt. “Take it off.”

The way you pouted, eyes round and pleading, made something snap inside him.

“Yeah?” His smirk was lazy, teasing, but his fingers worked fast, yanking at the knot of his tie before hastily unbuttoning his shirt. He barely had the patience to shrug it off because he knew how desperate you were to touch him, and fuck, he was just as desperate to feel you.

Eren barely got his shirt off before your hands were on him, raking over the ridges of his stomach, tracing the deep lines of his abs. He was so fucking warm, muscles tense beneath your fingertips like he was barely holding himself back. But you didn’t want him to hold back.

“Eren,” you murmured, nails digging into his skin.

He groaned, low and deep, before crashing his lips back onto yours, kissing you like he was starving. His tongue slid against yours, claiming, demanding, as his hands roamed lower, fingers hooking into the waistband of your lace panties.

“You know,” he muttered against your mouth, “I should make you beg for it.”

You whined in protest, arching into him, but he only chuckled, slow and dangerous.

“Yeah?” His fingers trailed teasingly along the inside of your thigh, barely there, not nearly enough. “You want me to take them off?”

“Yes,” you breathed, legs shifting restlessly.

His lips brushed against your jaw, then lower, over the marks he’d left on your throat, and still, his fingers didn’t move any higher. “Use your words, baby.”

You huffed, frustration curling in your stomach. “Eren, please.”

His grip tightened suddenly, possessive, like he loved hearing you beg. “That’s my girl.”

And then, with one smooth motion, he ripped the lace away. A gasp left your lips, half-shock, half-anticipation, but Eren only groaned in satisfaction, sliding his palm over your now bare skin.

“Fuck,” he muttered, green eyes locking onto yours. “Look at you.”

Before you could respond, his mouth was on you again, lips and tongue tracing fire down your body, taking his time, savoring every inch of you like you were something to be worshipped.

His fingers dipped into you, sinking past the tight resistance of your walls, and your back arched instinctively, a sharp gasp slipping from your lips. The stretch had your thighs trembling, pleasure crackling through your nerves like fire.

“Fuck,” Eren groaned, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “So fucking tight. His dick didn’t stretch you out like mine, did it?”

You barely had the mind to shake your head before he slid in another finger, the added pressure making you whimper. His thumb found your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles that had your stomach tensing.

A broken moan escaped you, but before it could fill the room, Eren pulled his fingers out and shoved them between your lips. “Suck.”

You obeyed without hesitation, swirling your tongue around them, tasting yourself as your gaze locked onto his. His pupils were blown, lips parted as he watched you, completely transfixed.

“Good girl,” he muttered, voice thick with arousal.

Before you could process the praise, he lowered himself between your thighs, spreading them wider as he settled in. His breath ghosted over your slick heat, and then his mouth was on you.

The first flick of his tongue made your entire body jolt, and when he latched onto your clit, swirling, sucking, teasing, you couldn’t stop the way your hips bucked against his face.

“Eren,” you gasped, fingers flying to his hair, tugging, holding on for dear life as he devoured you.

He groaned into you, the vibrations making you shudder, and before you knew it, you were falling apart, pleasure cresting over you in waves. Your body tightened, back arching off the bed as his name spilled from your lips like a prayer.

Eren pulled away, lips glistening, but he didn’t give you a moment to recover. He was already getting up, hands moving in a rush. His belt clattered to the floor, pants shoved down just enough before he was on you again.

His cock dragged against your entrance, teasing, tip slick with your release, and you whimpered, hips shifting, chasing the fullness you knew was coming.

Eren smirked at your desperation, but he didn’t keep you waiting. With one slow, deliberate push, he sank inside, stretching you inch by inch until he was fully seated.

You swore you could pass out.

It had been two years since you’d been filled like this, since someone had reached this deep, and your body clenched around him like it never wanted to let go.

Eren didn’t give you a second to adjust. There was no patience, no teasing this time. He pulled out almost entirely before slamming back in, punching a gasp straight from your throat.

Your body jolted with the force of it, nails digging into his biceps as he set a brutal pace, each thrust knocking the breath out of you.

“Fuck—” you choked, toes curling as the head of his cock dragged against that spot deep inside you, the one that made your vision blur.

Eren only growled in response, his grip tightening as he forced your body to take every ruthless stroke. One hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing it, keeping you exactly where he wanted. The other dug into your waist, fingers pressing hard enough to bruise, as if he was afraid you’d slip away.

“Look at you,” he rasped, his voice rough, wrecked. “Taking me so fucking well. This pussy was made for me.”

Your walls clenched around him at his words, and he smirked like he felt it.

“Yeah?” His pace stuttered for just a second, just enough to make you whine, before he rammed into you even harder, making the bed creak beneath you. “You like that? You like being fucked like you’re mine?”

You didn’t answer, you couldn’t. Your moans were all he got, loud and desperate as pleasure built inside you, white-hot and unrelenting.

Eren leaned in, lips brushing your ear, his breath heavy and uneven. “Say it.”

You shook your head, stubborn even now, but he only chuckled darkly, his thumb pressing against your clit, rubbing tight circles that made your whole body seize.

“Say it,” he demanded again, voice dropping, dripping with possession. “Or I don’t let you come.”

You let out a broken whimper, so close you could taste it, pleasure teetering on the edge of unbearable. He kept moving, hips snapping against yours, cock driving so deep it felt like he was splitting you open.

“Say it,” Eren repeated, voice softer this time but no less dangerous, lips skimming your jaw as he fucked into you, relentless.

And when you finally broke, when the pleasure coiled too tight to fight it anymore, you gasped it out, barely above a whisper.

“Yours. I’m yours, Eren! Fuck–” 

A groan tore from his throat, and his hips slammed into you with a new, desperate force, like he was trying to fuck the claim deeper, brand it into your bones.

“That’s right,” he growled, breath ragged, his fingers tightening around your throat. “You’re mine. This pussy—” he punctuated it with a brutal thrust, making you cry out, “—mine. Say it again.”

Your body shook beneath him, legs trembling, but you didn’t hesitate this time.

“Yours,” you gasped, fingers clawing at his back, trying to anchor yourself to something, anything, as he wrecked you. “Eren, I’m yours.”

His breath hitched, and for a moment, his pace stuttered, like he was trying to control himself, like he was on the verge of unraveling completely. But then his hand slid down, hooking behind your knee, hiking your leg up to spread you even wider.

And fuck, the new angle had you seeing stars.

A sharp gasp left your lips, back arching off the bed as his cock hit even deeper, so deep it felt like he was ruining you.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, watching the way your face twisted in pleasure. “You feel that? Feel how good you take me?”

You couldn’t answer, couldn’t do anything but moan as the heat in your stomach coiled impossibly tight, tension building, about to snap.

Eren must’ve felt it, how your walls fluttered around him, how your breath hitched in that telltale way, because his fingers moved to your clit, rubbing fast, ruthless circles that made your whole body jerk.

“Come for me,” he ordered, voice strained, barely holding on himself.

You shook your head weakly, trying to fight it, trying to make this last just a little longer, but Eren wasn’t having it.

“Don’t fucking hold back,” he rasped, slamming into you harder. “Come. Now.”

That was all it took.

Your body locked up, pleasure hitting you in a crashing wave that ripped through your veins, hot and all-consuming. A sob tore from your throat as you clenched around him, shaking as the orgasm washed over you, leaving you completely wrecked beneath him.

Eren wasn’t far behind.

“Fuck—” he hissed through gritted teeth, hips stuttering as your tightness milked him. His grip on you turned bruising, and then he was burying himself deep with one last thrust, a low groan spilling from his lips as he filled you.

The room was silent except for your ragged breaths, your skin slick with sweat, bodies still tangled together.

Still breathless, Eren leaned down and kissed you, softer this time. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, pressing you so tightly against him that you could feel the wild thrum of his heartbeat. “I fucking love you so much,” he murmured against your lips. “Never gonna leave you, baby. Never gonna let you leave me either.”

Apologies for any mistakes, I’ll edit in the morning with fresh pairs of eyes 👀.

[azulmagpie]

Recently got lucky enough to see an eruption so thought I’d draw the scene where these silly guys see it too!

[foruko]

devil and angle

[internationalgamer]

🤣

[phantommiles]

and who really cares...

[jihikomakota]

[jaegsnicotine]

Ocean Waves,

Sands, and

Kisses. | Eren Jaeger

NSFW

Eren Jaeger x f!reader

Summary: A trip to the beach was supposed to clear your head, not lead you to him. Eren is everything you should avoid—detached, unpredictable, incapable of commitment. But the more you push, the more he pulls, until walking away no longer feels like an option.

Warning(s): Toxic relationship dynamics, emotional push-and-pull, possessive!Eren, jealousy, ego clashes, co-dependency, intense arguments, rough sex, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, vaginal sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), pet names, spanking, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial,lots of kissing, angst, Eren being emotionally unavailable at times, and heavy emotional conflicts. Mean bf Porco (forgive me madams I LOVE MA BAE PORCO I SWEAR)

A/N: gurl this shit is messed up idk why i even wrote this but lol hope someone would enjoy it. mwah mwah. part 2 coming soon bb. (yall this is my first time writing on tumblr so…JWHSKSHSKSHSJHSJS fuck)

PART 1.

The late morning sun spills through your bedroom window, casting golden streaks across the wooden floor. The air hums with the soft strums of ‘Violet’ by Daniel Caesar, the mellow tune wrapping around you like a warm embrace. You hum along as you clasp a delicate gold necklace around your neck, the tiny pendant resting just above your collarbone.

Your outfit is effortlessly put together—a brown lace-trimmed crop top with dainty tie straps, paired with an off-white ruched maxi skirt that hugs your hips before flowing down. You slide on your gold watch, fasten a bracelet around your wrist, and grab your sleek brown leather shoulder bag. A final touch—burgundy-tinted sunglasses, resting atop your head, waiting for the sun’s glare.

Satisfied, you take one last look in the mirror. You look good. You feel good. Today is just another day—a simple girls’ day out, nothing more, nothing less.

Your phone vibrates on the table.

Historia:

Where are you??

Sasha is gonna start eating the napkins.

Mikasa:

I swear if you don’t hurry your butt off

A laugh slips past your lips as you grab your bag. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” you murmur, sending a quick reply before stepping out the door.

The world outside is bright, alive. The streets hum with people—some strolling leisurely, others caught in conversation. A group of teenagers skate past, their laughter trailing behind them. The air smells like fresh pavement, the distant scent of brewed coffee from a café nearby.

You weave through the sidewalk, fingers idly scrolling through your phone as your legs move on autopilot toward the usual cafe.

And then—

Everything stops.

There, across the street.

Your steps falter, breath hitching in your throat. The world around you blurs—cars moving, people chatting, the faint hum of city life—but your focus sharpens on one thing.

Him.

Porco. Your Porco.

His arm is draped lazily around a girl’s shoulders, fingers idly playing with the strap of her top. She leans into him, laughing at something he said, her jet-black hair cascading down her back. She’s shorter than you—small enough to fit perfectly under his arm, against his side, like she belongs there. Like she was meant to be there.They walk in sync, close—too close.

Your chest tightens. A sharp, twisting sensation curls in your stomach, something ugly and raw. Your mind scrambles for a rational explanation, something that makes sense, something that doesn’t make your heart plummet straight to your feet, something that doesn’t make your fingers go numb around your phone.

It’s probably nothing. Maybe she’s just a friend. Maybe you’re misinterpreting things.

But you know better.

He doesn’t hold his friends like that. He doesn’t look at them like that.

The weight of it sinks in, heavy and suffocating.

You should go up to him. Confront him. Demand an explanation. Scream, cry, shove him away—anything but just standing here, frozen, as if the pavement beneath you has turned to quicksand.

But your legs refuse to move.

Your throat burns. The buzzing of your phone in your grip feels distant now, an afterthought. Your friends are waiting. The day is supposed to be normal, fun. You were supposed to be laughing over Ymir’s stupid inside jokes right now, not standing on the sidewalk feeling like your entire world just shifted beneath you.

You swallow hard, blinking rapidly against the stinging in your eyes.

Then, without a second thought, you turn on your heel and walk away.

—

The next day, classroom feels colder than usual.

The kind of cold that seeps into your bones, makes you feel smaller than you are. The air conditioner hums softly, blending with the low murmurs of students chatting before class starts. The fluorescent lights cast a sterile glow over the room, making everything feel dull—muted.

You barely register any of it.

You don’t hear the scrape of chairs or the shuffle of feet, don’t even notice when someone approaches your desk until a familiar voice breaks through the haze.

“Hey.”

Your heart stutters.

Porco stands in front of you, looking down with that same easy expression—like everything is normal. Like yesterday never happened.

You don’t answer right away. You just stare at him, trying to piece together how he can stand there so casually, how he can meet your eyes without guilt eating him alive.

Then, without waiting for your response, he reaches for your hand. “C’mon, let’s get you home.”

And you let him.

The hallways are bright, filled with the usual hum of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter. Students move around you, but you barely notice them.

Because all you can see is him.

Porco walks in front of you, hand gripping yours loosely—like it’s nothing, like it’s just another day. Another day of him picking you up after class to take you home, just like the perfect boyfriend everyone thinks of him. But your fingers feel like they’re burning against his skin, your breath uneven as you stare at his back.

You should let go.

You should stop this before it hurts more.

But you can’t.

Because as much as you hate him right now, as much as you want to scream and cry and tear yourself away, there’s a part of you that still needs this.

A part of you that wants to sink into his warmth, to pretend—just for a little while longer—that nothing has changed.

Your throat tightens. Your nails dig into your palm.

You want to kill him.

You want to kiss him.

You want to hate him, but you can’t.

So, you just follow.

—

The engine hums low, filling the silence between you. The familiar scent of Porco’s cologne lingers in the air—woody, fresh, painfully comforting. Your fingers play with the hem of your skirt, your gaze fixed on the road ahead.

Porco taps his fingers against the steering wheel. “You’re awfully quiet today.”

You don’t respond.

He exhales, shaking his head. “C’mon, baby. Talk to me.”

Something in you snaps.

“Talk to you?” Your voice is sharp, cutting through the stillness. “About what, Porco?”

He glances at you, brow furrowing. “What’s with the attitude?”

You laugh, but there’s no humor in it. Just exhaustion. Just pain.

“Do you even care about how I feel?” you ask, turning to him, searching his face for something. “Or are you just pretending everything’s fine?”

“Baby,” His grip on the wheel tightens. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

And that’s what breaks you.

The way he says it so easily, like yesterday never happened, like he wasn’t holding someone else, touching someone else—loving someone else.

Your vision blurs. Your chest tightens.

You bite the inside of your cheek, turning away. “Just drive, Porco.”

For once, he listens.

But deep down, some part of you hoped he didn’t, that he’d instead reassured you that whatever you’re thinking right now is wrong.

—

NEXT DAY

The moment you step onto campus, your friends lock onto you like sharks scenting blood.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” Sasha drawls, crossing her arms. “Where the hell were you two days ago?”

You freeze mid-step. “What?”

Historia raises an eyebrow. “The hangout? The one you agreed to?”

Shit.

Your mind scrambles for an excuse. “Oh—uh, something came up.”

Mikasa squints. “Something?”

Annie tilts her head. “Or someone?”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. You should’ve known they wouldn’t let this slide.

Historia leans forward, eyes narrowing. “Wait a minute. You never flake. Did something happen?”

You hesitate.

Then, with a sigh, you drop your bag onto the table and slump into your seat. “I think Porco’s cheating on me.”

The air shifts.

Silence stretches between you and your friends, the usual buzz of campus noise suddenly feeling distant.

Then—

“Huh?”

The synchronized reaction makes your chest tighten.

Sasha is the first to break, eyebrows furrowing. “What do you mean think?”

You swallow. “I saw him with someone.” The words feel heavy on your tongue. “He had his arm around her. She looked—” You take a shaky breath. “She fit into him better than I ever did.”

Another beat of silence.

“That son of a—” Sasha pushes her chair back, like she’s ready to fight.

Mikasa places a firm hand on her arm.

Historia, still staring at you, frowns. “You think he’s cheating, but you didn’t ask?”

You shake your head. “I couldn’t. I just—” Your fingers tighten into fists. “I walked away.”

Annie finally speaks up. “Wait. So… you haven’t broken up with him?”

Your lips part, but the words don’t come.

Sasha blinks. “Oh my god, you haven’t broken up with him?”

“Not yet,” you mumble.

“Not yet?” Historia repeats, exasperated. “You’re just gonna let this slide?”

“No, I just—I don’t know what to do, okay?” Frustration bubbles in your chest. “I don’t know if I want to punch him in the face or pretend like I didn’t see anything at all.”

Mikasa exhales sharply. “You need to talk to him.”

“Or dump him,” Annie deadpans.

Sasha groans, dragging a hand down her face. “No offense, but why are you even hesitating? Like, Porco? Come on. You’re too hot for this.”

You huff out a weak laugh, but it dies quickly. The weight of everything settles again.

“I just…” You trail off, shaking your head. “I need to clear my head.”

“Then let’s do something,” Historia says, suddenly perking up. “Get your mind off it.”

“Yeah,” Sasha nods. “We could go shopping. Or eat. Or…”

“The beach,” Historia suggests.

You wrinkle your nose. “Ugh, the beach?”

Immediately, all four of them stare at you like you just said you hate puppies.

“What’s wrong with the beach?” Sasha demands.

“It’s hot,” you grumble.

Historia throws her hands up. “It’s supposed to be hot! That’s the whole point.”

Mikasa raises an eyebrow. “You literally own like twenty bikinis.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I like—”

“Oh my god,” Sasha groans. “You need this. You can’t just sit in your room being miserable forever.”

“You do know exams are coming up, right?” Annie points out. “You need to focus, and you can’t do that if you’re sulking over some idiot.”

She has a point. A very annoying, very logical point.

You exhale, pressing your palms against the table. “Fine. The beach.”

Sasha pumps her fist. “Yes!”

“Great,” Historia grins. “We leave tomorrow.”

Your eyes widen. “Tomorrow?”

“Yup.”

“No backing out,” Sasha says.

You sigh, rubbing your temples. Maybe this is what you need. A distraction. A way to breathe again.

“Alright,” you mutter. “Tomorrow.”

—

NEXT DAY

The drive to the beach is filled with the familiar chaos of your friends. Sasha's feet are up on the dashboard despite Mikasa’s protests, Annie busy on her phone on the backseat, and Ymir is leaned back in her seat, sunglasses slipping down the bridge of her nose, with Historia’s head resting on her shoulder. The car smells like sunscreen and the faint hint of coffee from a quick stop before heading out.

You, on the other hand, sit quietly, fingers tracing patterns on your thigh, watching the scenery blur past the window.

The closer you get to the shore, the more alive everything feels. The streets are packed with tourists in beachwear, surfboards sticking out of the backs of trucks. Street vendors sell fresh coconuts and grilled corn, and the scent of salt lingers thick in the air.

It’s overwhelming.

You’ve never liked the beach. Something about it has always felt too open, too free. Like if you let yourself go, the waves might take you with them.

But you’re here. And you’re trying.

The second you step onto the sand, your friends scatter—Mikasa, Annie, and Ymir setting up the towels, Sasha and Historia already running toward the water. You slip off your sandals, feeling the warmth of the sand beneath your feet as you drop your bag beside them.

Your swimsuit is simple—a black bikini top paired with loose, white linen pants. The ocean wind tugs at your hair, and for a brief moment, you let yourself close your eyes, inhaling the salt-kissed air.

Maybe this won’t be so bad.

For a while, you just sit there, legs stretched out on your towel, watching the waves roll in. The water glistens under the afternoon sun, surfers cutting through the waves in smooth, effortless motions.

And then, before you even realize what you're doing, you stand.

You don’t think. You just move.

Your feet sink into the sand as you step forward, walking toward the water as if something is pulling you in. The ocean laps at your ankles, then your calves, cool against your sun-warmed skin.

It feels strange. Too open, too vast. You keep going anyway. Until,

“Shit.”

Your hand shoots up to your chest, your fingers feeling nothing but bare skin. Your ring. It was there just a second ago.

You whirl around, scanning the water, your heart hammering. “No, no, no…”

The waves keep moving, uncaring, indifferent to your panic. Your breathing picks up, hands digging through the water like you can somehow catch it before it disappears forever.

You shouldn’t care. It’s just a stupid ring. A stupid ring from a relationship that’s already dead. But your chest tightens anyway.

"Shit, shit, shit—"

“You lost something?”

The voice comes out of nowhere.

You freeze.

When you turn, he’s standing a few feet away, his deep blue surfboard tucked under one arm, his body still glistening from the ocean. He’s shirtless, broad shoulders tapering down to a lean waist, swim shorts hanging low on his hips. His hair is damp, tied in a manbun, some strands falling over sharp green eyes—watching you, unreadable.

You stare at him for a second too long before blinking rapidly. “Uh—yeah. My ring. It just—it just slipped off.”

He doesn’t ask why you’re freaking out over a ring. He just watches you for a beat, then exhales through his nose. “Stay here.”

And before you can process that, he’s already diving into the water.

You stand frozen, watching as he disappears beneath the waves. The ocean moves around him like it knows him, like it bends to him. Seconds stretch into a full minute, then another—until finally, he resurfaces, dark hair slicked back, water dripping down his face.

And between his fingers—

Your ring.

Your breath stutters as he walks toward you, hand outstretched.

“You should probably get this resized,” he says, his voice calm, almost indifferent.

You stare at the ring, then at him. He’s close now—close enough that you can see the silver chain around his neck, the key pendant resting against his collarbone.

Your fingers brush his as you take it back. “Thanks,” you murmur.

He just nods, eyes flickering over your face for half a second before he steps back. Then—

“Can you surf?”

You blink. “Huh?”

He stays quiet for some seconds, just staring at you with that unreadable expression of his before asking again. “Can you surf?”

Your lips part open with no words coming out for a while before you close it again hurriedly. “Oh- no, never.”

A beat of silence. The air between you is thick, charged with something you can’t quite name. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he asks, “You wanna try?”

[pavemont]

I fucking love attack on titan. Hi tumblr

[nanaminsmoon]

subby!eren x reader. - e.jaegar. 18+. mdni.

a/n: fun fact, actually really sad fact but i wrote this to post it on valentine's day...last year. so just think of this as me clearing stock because this was collecting dust for a whole year and it's the only complete fic i have lol. and thanks to @dewbidiseu for making want to post again:))

wc: 2047 + lazily proofread because i hate reading my work.

thinking about eren’s anniversary gift to you being to let you do whatever you want to him. his generosity would land him on a dining chair in your shared apartment, legs wide spread with his hands out of sight. they’d be tightly bound, wrists held together by the pink tie he had worn with his suit—its colour matching your dress. enthused eyes would affix themselves to the emerald lace hugging your torso, their indecision evident in their fast and aimless movements. looking at you, eren didn’t know how to feel. because, on one hand, warmth spread through his chest at the kind gesture of his girlfriend matching her lingerie with the feature of his that she liked most. yet, his dick pulsated at the sight of the exposed parts of you that you knew he wanted to taste most. a harsh gulp would have his adam’s apple bobbing as he watched you saunter towards him, your pupils fixated on the burning tips of his ears that his hair couldn’t cover. out of his eyeline, the restraints on his hands were no longer a concern, and eren’s main focus had become the wetness permeating the trouser material on his thigh once you sat on it. in a silent expression of their owner’s frustration, eren’s hands would fidget before relaxing at the feeling of your lips meeting the shell of his ear.

that frustration would soon resurrect as a feverishly desperate mutation of what it once was, covering eren’s torso in a dusty pink colour. it’d flush all over him, only worsening with every new place your lips reached. after wrapping themselves around his lobe, they’d explored the side of his neck without a single regard for the desirous whines they were leading out of the corners of eren’s mouth. they’d weave a web of burst blood vessels over his torso, lipstick marks being a placeholder for the places they couldn’t reach. and all eren could do was sit there and take it while his vision blurred and his pocket square absorbed whatever his crooning mouth couldn't contain—both in noise and saliva. light pink cotton would choke him when your finger hooked itself on the scarlet rope pressing indents into his skin and contracting muscles. for eren, breath regulation seemed a distant mirage, appearing once you pulled away from him, only to fade to vanish once you did something else. like when you suddenly started moving on his thigh in that way you knew drove him insane; head thrown back as you moaned his name into the air and he grappled for his sanity. freedom was at the tips of his fingers. eren knew that. he could move and remove your makeshift gag anytime he wanted to. but he didn’t want to. though he could barely support his head, because of your languid actions on his skin, your moving on his thighs, as well as your hand on his dick. a part of him he’d never indulged before didn’t want it to end. no matter how agonised he looked. it was all too much; the nips on his flesh, the feel and sounds you made as you rode his thigh, and the stimulation to his dick through his dress trousers.

“you okay, ‘ren?”, you pouted, and he'd look up to meet his glossy green eyes with yours. you'd see his features lift to reveal a smile as he nodded blearily. you'd pull back from him, a hand would rest planted on his dick, while the other hand grabbed his face to examine his features; cheeks rouged, long brown eyelashes sticking together as he blinked, and eyebrows scrunched. a light tug on the sanguine rope was enough to have his hips raising, the tent in his slacks begging for attention, and you'd take out the pocket square from his mouth.

“i wan—i need more, y/n”, he'd say breathily, “give me more. please”, that last ‘please’ was broken up, as his voice box just gave up on him. you'd pout at him again, tilting your head,

“you sure you can take it, ‘renny?”, you'd ask, and he'd nod fervently.

“i can take it, just…put it in your mouth”, he'd look down at the wet patch on his boxers—liquids wetting it from both beneath and above the fabric. embarrassment painted his features, but his pride was dead and buried, and he needed you to revive it. his covered bulge sat at the opening of his zip, and you'd follow his shift in gaze, and smile at him slyly. his legs would move together in a futile attempt to hide the tent between his legs. he felt so embarrassed that he was this easy, but he'd still bite his lips gently at the thought.

your hand would move from his chin to his cheek and he’d gently lean into your touch—the warmth of your hand being a slight bit of solace. he was pliant in the palm of your hands, melting into it. and any ounce of domination in him disintegrated,

“i’ve been so good f’r you, y/n. please, i’m about to lose my mind”, he’d plead, laboured words leaving his mouth in quick succession. the leg you weren’t sat on rapidly moved—his need travelling throughout him. and since you were still palming his dick, the movement of his leg provided him with enough friction to make him sandwich his lip between his teeth as he just fucked up into your hand. his teeth would release his lip, allowing him to let whatever he had left of his voice out of his mouth, mainly in quiet curses and whines. you’d watch him for a few seconds; mouth agape, and his hips moving back and forth on the chair as he pushed his dick into your palm. for his sanity, you’d stop him and take his dick out of his boxers, making sure to observe the way it leaked precum. the pad of your thumb would spread it over his tip, and the green pupils glued to you would vanish for a second as his eyes closed. mainly because it felt good, but also because he felt pathetic, he never knew he could want you this badly and abashment washed over him at the thought of facing you directly. an electric shudder flew through him when you licked a stripe under his shaft. and it’d be recurring as you placed delicate kisses on his tip,

“y/n, stop t-teasing and just put it innnggffuck”, his sentence would be interrupted by the wetness of your mouth surrounding his tip. with how sensitive his dick felt with you ‘accidentally’ brushing yourself against it all night, as well as everything else that had happened, that action felt like spraying an extinguisher on a burning building. but the tip would be the only place in your mouth for a few minutes, much to eren’s dismay. but you’d soon put more of him in your mouth. but eren was impatient so, after making the dumb decision to let his body control him as opposed to his mind, his hips would buck up so his tip hit the back of your throat. the sudden movement would cause you to gag around him, and just that one action had him shooting ropes of cum; splatters of it on your face, and chest.

once his release drowned him in pleasure, it’d also rid him of his sense; sight blurred and hazed, ears clogged, and skin feeling like it was tv static. he’d notice you’d gone silent and open his eyes to see a pout on your face. he’d gathered it was because of his nut on you. and once that realisation settled over him, he’d realise that, if you were anything like him, he’d feel the consequences of it. but he’d still look up at you remorsefully,

“i”, he sighed, “’m so, so sorry”, he spoke breathily, and you’d look down at the mess and pout at it. in this state of mind, eren was so unlike himself. usually, eren was in charge because he knew that if he relinquished control, then you’d know how easy he was. but today was different, and he didn’t have enough coherency to feel otherwise.

“you’re so messy, eren”, you tsked, “could you clean it for me?”, you hummed, and he’d look at you, post-nut clarity would make him hesitate but something in him would make him lean forward and lick a strip of it off you.

“untie me now, i wanna touch you”, he ordered, dishevelled. you wondered if you’d feel the repercussions of your actions, but you’d get rid of the rope—the tie was tied pretty loosely. so he could escape it pretty quickly. and he did. he’d wriggle out of it, and start grabbing at you—breathing heavy as he kissed your skin while inhaling your scent deeply.

despite all his previous contentions, eren had been wrong; he couldn't take it. taking it felt so good, but it made him feel dirty and wrong. a slight bit of shame fell over him at the fact that he loved you taking such good care of him, making him feel good until his dick started feeling raw. he hated that he loved the pain of being overstimulated, he felt like he’d blanked out and his body was just working on its own; pulling you down on him, making you ride him. deep whines would leave eren's mouth as you bounced on him, his voice grainy and running out as he swore and groaned underneath you. he had come so many times, he was shooting blanks. there was nut on his thighs, stomach, hands and you. even though he could freely touch you and say whatever he wanted, eren was just moaning—nothing else threatening to leave his mouth. his grip on your hips was tight, his fingers were cramping and he was delirious. eren didn't know how long he had been sitting there, or what time it was but he did know he was about to cum again,

“y/n, wait”, he'd say, holding you still. he’d start you pull you up off him, but you’d stop him. his eyes would meet yours, and you’d slowly slide back down on him.

“you wanted to be impatient, eren,”, you stroked stray hairs from his face, “so take it”, you'd retort, kissing his cheek. that was a comment you had heard too many times from eren; he’d make you beg for him, then tell you to take him when you told him it was too much. and, until today, pride had pursed his lips whenever he even dared to try and confess how tight your leash around his neck was. but seeing him like this—upper half sweaty and rouged, while his lower half relentlessly pursued your touch—it was more than obvious. yet still, those small meek tinges of his domineering nature would rear their heads,

“fuck you”, his voice was small yet defensive, but once he realised you were really about to ride him through this nut, he conceded very quickly.

“i meant sorry—shit—i’m sorry”, he apologised, small tear drops flowing down his face. having never been overstimulated to the point of tears, eren never even knew such a thing was possible for him. and, once he caught his breath and reconfigured his mind, he’d readjust to his surroundings and take in all that had just been uncovered: eren was malleable before you. ready to be whatever, and whoever, you wanted him to be so long as you kept him feeling good.

Product of nanaminsmooninc™ 2025. All rights reserved. You may not copy, reproduce, or modify works without permission.

[beargyufairy]

I had all

And then most of you

Some

And now none of you

Take me back to the night we met

[fl0r4jenn]

i love them so much </3

[zeketarion]

[skelera41]

Romantic conversations about the genocide🕊️