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profangirllu · 2 years

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Actor!Eren Yeager Headcanons (part 4)

Pairing: Actor!Eren Yeager x MakeupArtist!Reader (AOT Live Action Show AU)

Genre: I genuinely have no idea? fluff? angst? a little bit of both?

Type: headcanon/bulletpoint

A/N: This was originally supposed to be the last part, but it was getting SO LONG and there was SO MUCH that needed to happen that I’m splitting it into two. Inspired by @nihaalart ‘s actor au fan art :)

part 1, part 2, part 3

Going back to your apartment after everything was depressing to say the least

You had made good money as a makeup artist before Attack On Titan

Yk from doing makeup for weddings, SFX makeup for other projects, doing stuff on YouTube and social media and stuff

So it wasn’t that you were going back to a crappy place

But the off white walls, throw blankets, comfy couches, and picture frames that surrounded you just didn’t feel like home anymore

It was too lonely

You wanted the energy you felt on set

The excitement and fun

The friendship and love you had shared

Love

Eren

God, what was he going to think of you?

You just left him without any explanation

You refused to answer his or anyone else’s texts

You were kinda sorta shutting down 🙃

Mikasa and Hange had been messaging you on every platform you had

Jean, Reiner, and Zeke had texted you every morning

Armin had called you at least four times and Sasha sent you video messages

Even Levi - the captain of being antisocial - had sent you a message asking where you where and how you were doing

But Eren?

Eren sent nothing

Not a single message

No call, no text

Nothing

And honestly?

That hurt more than getting fired

You’d thought that after six months of filming

Six months of talking to each other and being there for one another

That he would’ve done something - anything - to show you he was worried, that he cared about you

But no

Nothing

It killed you inside

Took your heart and twisted it until you couldn’t breathe, only releasing it to stab it over and over again

You hated this

So much

The pain of everything that happened consumed you to the point where you literally didn’t get out of bed for three days

It wasn’t until you literally started to get nauseous from not eating that you decided enough was enough

So you picked yourself up from the depths of despair all by yourself and started over again

You got up and showered, washing your skin free of all your feelings until it was red

You threw your clothes and bedding into the laundry machine and went to the kitchen in the first new pair of clothes you’d put on since you’d gotten back

It felt good in a way, moving forward, trying to leave the past behind

But part of you was still breaking over the fact that everything was over

How you’d probably never see the people you’d grown to care about so much again

Because they were global superstars and you were just you

You’d always had a feeling that you’d be left in the dust once this was over

That they were all just being nice because they had to see you all the time

But you couldn’t focus on that anymore

As much as it hurt, the past was the past

You had to focus on what was happening right now

What you could do to move forward

About a week after you’d been fired, you decided to finally go back to makeup

You’d cleaned up the small office space you used as your studio - washing your brushes, fixing your palettes and paints, organizing everything to set it up for how you normally did walkthroughs/tutorials

You were literally about to press record on your camera to start when you heard a knock on your door

You sighed

You really just wanted to be left alone with your makeup right now 😞

But then you remembered the new Mehron body paints you had ordered a few weeks back and realized it was probably them so you got up anyways

You trudged to your door, hair held back by a fuzzy headband and clad in a black tank top and your most embarrassing pajama pants because no one ever saw the bottom half of your body in your videos anyways

The knocking on your door got louder and you huffed out an “I’m coming” before reaching for the handle and swinging it open

You stopped dead in your tracks

The figure in front of you was dressed head to toe in black, hood pulled up over their head and a mask covering the bottom half of their face

Honest to god you had no idea who this strange person was judging from their getup alone

But their eyes?

You’d know those eyes anywhere

You could die and be reincarnated and in another life you’d still be able to recognize them

There

In all his glory and charm

Was Eren. Freaking. Yeager

And you

Beating the amazing talented beautiful dISASTER that you are

SLAMMED THE DOOR SHUT

Because oh my god????

What was he doing here????

How did he get your address??? Why didn’t he call or text??? Why was he literally on your doorstep oh my g o d?????

But then you realize you just shut the door on a literal global celebrity who probably risked a whole lot even just getting to your place so you take a few deep breaths and open the door

You don’t look at him again, just move to the side and gesture for him to come in quickly

You close the door behind him softly as he walks into your home

A weird feeling since your home is your safe space and you hardly let anyone into it

Eren had taken off his hood and mask and was standing in front of you with his hands in his pockets awkwardly

Like he was a middle schooler giving a presentation

You cleared your throat even more awkwardly

“What, uh… what are you doing here?”

He fiddled with his hands

“I wanted to see how you were doing.”

He shifted slightly

“... and I’m also on strike.”

You blinked

He was on what now?

“Eren, what? What do you mean you’re on strike?”

He sighed and pushed a few strands of hair away from his face

“After you left, the rest of the cast and I asked around to see what happened. Nobody would tell us until Armin did a little digging.

“He found out that you had been fired and replaced with someone else - one of the assistants that Esme brought with her this season.”

You nodded

You’d figured that one of the other artists or assistants would’ve taken your job

Eren continued, “You know those stalker fans? The ones that follow us around everywhere, show up at our houses sometimes, and try to get into every fan event and stuff?”

You nodded slowly, trying to understand where he was going

He let out a mirthless laugh

“Turns out that ‘assistant’ was actually one of them. She had been watching me for months, and I guess when she saw how close we were she got jealous. She was the one who went to the director and got you fired.”

He looked at you for a second, half expecting a reaction from you

But you sat in stunned silence as you tried to process his words

Eren sighed, “At first no one would tell me anything - about what happened with you, I mean. I asked everyone but no one seemed to know. But then the assistant… she kept saying things - weird things to me. She even followed me to my trailer one night after shooting and refused to leave when I asked her to. It was making me really uncomfortable so I told Mikasa and Armin about it.

“That’s when Armin started asking around about her and found out. After the truth came out, the director tried to support his decision about firing you, but none of the cast was comfortable with it so we refused to work until you were brought back. We’ve been on strike for almost five days now and no filming has been getting done. The director told me that I had to come and ask you back in person, so I’m here.”

You blinked

“I… Eren I don’t even know what to say…”

You ran a hand over your face and motioned for him to sit down on the couch

“First of all, I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I can’t imagine how scary it must be when fans like that are around, let alone in a position that close to you.

“Secondly, I appreciate all of you doing that for me, I really really do. More than you know. But it isn’t fair to ask you to do that.”

Eren opened his mouth to say something but you put a hand up

“You’ve all worked so hard to get to where you are, you shouldn’t throw it away for someone who is easily replaceable. I can’t ask to make my problem yours.”

Eren sat for a moment before taking your hands in his

His touch was so gentle, thumb caressing the back of your hand softly as if you were made from fine porcelain that would break if held too roughly

“That’s the thing, (Y/N), you aren’t replaceable. You’re what brings life to set every day, the reason so many of us are so happy this season even though we’re all exhausted. You make it a better place and us better people. So you aren’t asking us to do anything. When it comes to you, your problems become our problems too.”

He paused

“... they become mine too.”

The tentative tone in his voice made you meet his gaze

Those beautiful eyes that were so vibrant you couldn’t believe they were real

You swallowed

“Why?”

His lips turned up softly in a smile and his voice was no more than a whisper when he spoke next

“Because I love you”

_______________________________________________________________________

Tags: @didiyogo @watermelon-online @frecklesstuff @naveenscrackwhore @itzmeme @tiffanyy-21 @asseater1234567890 @hangesno1hoe @nanaosaki3940 @jaegarfarted @meepopmi

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thegetoufather · 3 years

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CASTING CALL • EREN JAEGER

eren jaeger x f!reader

wc: 1.3k

warnings: none! its sfw (shock face), but my blog is still 18+! this is an actor au, inspired by @/nihaalart’s lovely actor au pieces, so Eren is an actor for the show Attack on Titan!

a/n: this is self indulgent fluff to the max. thank you to the lovely beautiful and talented @whats-her-quirk for screaming with me.

It’s not unusual for heads to turn when you walk into the writer’s room with the tray full of coffee cups, it’s a Pavlovian response to the aid that’s going to get them to finish the scripts by the deadline. But the way Marco is looking at you, with a glint of evil in light brown eyes that betrays the smile that stretches across his freckled face – you can feel your stomach start to twist up in knots for reasons other than the the few sips you stole from your iced oat milk latte.

“The table read is done,” he says as you hand over his cinnamon macchiato.

“No.”

“He should be over in –”

“Nooooo.” You continue to moan the syllable as you slump into your chair, running your hands over your face as you prepare for the worst.

“Five minutes,” Marco finishes, rubbing a hand on your back in an attempt to calm you down.

“Have you heard anything he has to say yet?” You sigh.

“Nope, Jean texted me that ‘his dumb little face was scrunching up more than usual’, so we can assume that he was deep in thought.”

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck why me.”

“You know what they say, boys love pulling the pigtails of girls they have crushes on,” Marco teases as he takes a sip from the cardboard cup.

“That’s ridiculous. Can’t on set romance just be like Erwin and Levi, or even you and Jean? Hell, you guest starred at the start of the series and now you’re engaged. Where as I have had to babysit an overgrown manchild from writing over my work with crayons he gets with his kids meals from craft services.”

Marco lets out a laugh. “His edits were interesting that day. Very interesting takes on how the scene in the crystal cave should have gone down.”

Your head peaks back up to the doorway, anticipating that familiar shadow through the frosted window. “He isn’t here yet, do you think that I could hide or –”

The door swings open with a boom before you could enact your escape plan.

“Latte girl!” Eren’s voice booms, and once again, all heads turn to you.

“Deep breaths,” Marco whispers, “Entertain him and it will be over.”

Eren’s Doc Martens thud against the tile as he walks over to you, tanned hands resting on the walnut of your desk.

“What flavor shot did you get in this?” He asks, gesturing to the cup by your computer.

“French Vanilla.”

“Oooo! My favorite,” Eren picks up the cup, lips pursing around the straw that already has your lip gloss on it as he takes a sip with no hesitation.

“They made it well today,” he notes, swirling the cup so the flavor blends more before taking another sip. He licks his lips this time, head cocking slightly to the side as he processes the new taste.

“Are you wearing strawberry lip gloss today?”

The sound of Marco sputtering his coffee plays as the soundtrack to your jaw dropping. The green gaze on you is unwavering, eyebrows quirked in question as he awaits your answer.

Oh my god, you realize.

He seriously wants to know.

“Eren, what did you come here for,” you say exasperatedly. Your patience is already wearing thin and he hasn’t even begun your usual routine.

“Right!” He claps his hands, ready to get down to business. “So we read through the end of the season today, as you know, and I can’t believe it’s so......bleak.”

“You’ve been working on the show for over 4 years and you are just now coming to the realization?”

“I mean, I always knew that, but the ending, do I really have to –”

“Yes.”

“Can’t we make it a happy ending though? What if I –”

“We have been over this before, Eren, you know we can’t change the core story with you, maybe just tweak some lines here and there.” You are talking down to your desk, desperate to avoid the way his stupid face would quirk in indignation.

“Still, I think the people need to see something happy, you know? What if I greeted the Marleyans in Paradis shirtless, like how I was walking up the hill?”

“Why would you,” you begin, looking back up to him as your left eye begins to twitch, “What would, how is that any happier?”

“It’s for the fans!” He exclaims, setting your drink down as he leans in closer to you, “Don’t know if you’ve heard but, these abs got me in the running for People’s sexiest man of the year, wouldn’t hurt if they saw more of them, don’t ya think?”

You had heard. Also not hard to notice when he insists on walking around set with this robe open, hair tousled oh so effortlessly as he ways to the starstruck PA’s with that irritatingly charming smile of his, even making look getting scolded by the director for leaving his belly button piercing when he has to be on set in 5 much less of a deal than it is.

It melts everyone, the way he laughs off everything, even when he is being downright annoying. You’re convinced he has it down to a formula, shift his head ever so slightly, raise his eyebrows just a smidge, stretch his lips in a smile just enough so that the flash of silver of his tongue piercing peaks out just slightly behind those plush lips.

You can even find it softening your edges, so you snap yourself back to reality, gearing up to shut him down.

“Your chances of winning will still be fine with an Instagram campaign from your PR team, so no, Eren. So unless you have anything constructive to add –”

“I got it! He exclaims, clearly not listening to a word you had to say at all. “A sitcom episode, maybe we could turn the Marley flashback into one! The drunken antics, it’s perfect. Or maybe, it would be a musical! Marco can back me up here, Jean has got some pipes, I hear him singing in his –”

“Eren! Enough!” You get up from your desk, rounding around to stand in front of him. You’re glowering now, and you can tell he’s scared by the brief flash of fear that crossed his eyes.

“The script is set.” You say, tone level as you take a step towards him.

“I’m sorry that it ends this way, but this is the show.” You continue, the edge starting to creep out as you force him to move backwards towards the door.

“So there will be no sitcom episode. Or a musical episode. Or even a wacky reveal that this was all just a dream. This is Attack on Titan, not How I Met Your Mother, but I heard they are doing a read for an irritating love interest as a recurring role soon so I can give you those scripts if you are so inclined to perform with a laugh track.”

You’ve pushed him out the doorway without an interruption, a record first for you.

“Goodbye, Eren, please don’t come back unless you have trouble pronouncing the words again.” You grasp the doorknob, swinging it in his face, but the silver rings that decorate his knuckles peek out from the edge of the wood to stop the door’s arc.

“Wait!” He pushes the door back open so he can look at you again. “I have one more suggestion, then I’ll stop bothering you, I promise.”

You pinch your nose as you let out an exasperated sigh before acquiescing to his final question.

“You have 15 seconds to make your pitch.”

“Well, since you won’t give me an opportunity to blow you away on set, with how much more there is to Eren the actor than how he plays Eren Jaeger, maybe grab dinner so I can audition for the role of your insufferable love interest instead?”

thx for reading! plz don’t recc this on tiktok.

taglist: @asilentshout @aiiwa @yvvji @glittrkink @sunshinedragonofthewest @jean-prettyboy-kirschtein @ereh-simp @geektastic84 @quirksynopsis @cyancherub @simpingfor2dm3n

join my taglist here!

#eren jaeger x you #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager x you #aot x reader #aot x you #eren jaeger fluff #aot fluff #my work

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kemakoshume · 2 years

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first of all again congratulations my love!!

i think i’m gonna have to say connie from aot and “i” heheh

[𝙰𝙽𝚈𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙱𝚄𝚃 𝚂𝙴𝚇] 𑁍

a/n; okay YES thank you for giving me the opportunity to write for connie. if anyone cares i always ALWAYS mentally see the aot characters the way @nihaalart draws them in this art series of hers. UGH gorgeous... anyway lmao. sorry if anyone's ooc, this is my first time writing for aot! also, i'm using she/they for hange.

✰ Kink for Letter "I" – Intercrural or interfemoral sex: "aka, thigh fucking, to put it simply. this is the desire for a non-penetrative form of sex, where the penis is placed between the thighs. The giver usually imitates penetrative motions."'

warnings: fem!reader, virginity, technically group sex but not exactly. i was on utah Mormon tiktok against my will and thought of this but there's elements of Christian purity culture craziness in this as well. enjoy ~

"Are you guys positive that we won't go to hell for this?"

"Historia, please. For the love of all things holy, I'm begging you to relax for once.

“But Zoë,” the petite blonde whined, “What if God’s watching?”

The brunette looked around the room at the group of you sitting on the floor before her, chuckling as she rubbed her hand across her forehead in playful frustration. She crossed the small space of her living room to crouch down in front of Historia, reaching out to twirl a piece of the girl’s golden blonde hair with her lithe index finger.

“If God is watching, little lamb, then be a good girl and show him that you know how to have fun while still obeying Him. Okay? We’re all here to explore a little bit, that’s only natural. But, I promise, we’re all only going to do things the God-honoring way. Isn’t that right everyone?”

The small group of you that’d gathered in Hange’s home nodded in agreement, knocking your elbows into each other and giggling at the thought of the events to come. It was just a group of hormonal early-twenty-somethings experimenting with sex-adjacent pleasure for the first time in their lives. What’s the worst that could happen?

You watched the blonde glance around the room, looking back and forth at her friends’ faces as they looked at her in waiting. Everyone was stripped down to their undergarments, riled up, and dying for the sweet blonde to say yes.

Everyone cheered when a smile finally graced her face, and she nodded.

“Awesome,” Zoë said, making their way back to the front of the room, “Now that the panic attacks are out of the way. Is everyone ready to get started?”

They all whooped and hollered, some leaning in to kiss one another while others chose to hold hands. The last time you’d seen church kids this enthusiastic was when your kirk decided that no, actually, grape juice would not cut it. You guys had to drink wine now just like the good lord intended.

Suffice to say, none of you complained then, and none of you were complaining about this step into adulthood now.

“Good! So, now that you’re all stripped down to your undies and we’re all on board: Ladies, go hide. Boys, seek. Let the ‘anything but intercourse’ party commence!”

And with that, the proverbial starting gun had been fired.

You watched the crowd of fellow young women around you scramble to find a place to go, all of them scrambling around the lower level of the home to find a bed to initiate their activities on. You moved quickly to the corner of the room, jumping down to claim the plush air mattress tucked away beside a nightstand that you’d noticed when you arrived.

Now you just had to wait.

And wait.

And wait a little more.

You heard the boys stumbling around the dimly lit living room trying to find their desired partners, and at first, it was funny listening to them trip all over themselves. Trying and succeeding again and again to find a girl and a mattress, but after a few minutes, and no partner of your own yet, your morale began to wane.

Were you making an effort to make yourself seen? Not really. Half of the fun here was being found. But still, it would’ve been nice to know that someone was intentionally seeking you out.

You know who you wanted to come and find you, but he hadn’t yet. So you sighed, slouching deeper against the wall you’d leaned your back on.

You should’ve known this would be a bust the moment Hange had convinced you to come. She had put this thing together so quickly. She was the caption of the Scouts Youth Group at your university, which was how you met. She was a friend to all, which is how you’d fallen in good graces with her friend group. But above all else, she was known as the secret sex loophole aficionado and her knowledge was a very sought-after commodity in your community.

How could you have said no, really? Why would you have said no? She came to you in the highest of spirits explaining that she’d rounded up a group of your peers that had never been to a soaking party, or a gazing party, so she decided to combine the two. This was her second time hosting and she wanted your support.

She told you he would be here, and that he liked you.

So now you were here. Partially naked, in a corner by yourself, but still feeling exposed. You poke your head around the corner a bit to see the room and let your eyes roam. The first thing in your line of eyesight was a small group of girls and guys sitting across from each other, nude, staring intently at each other’s genitals on a makeshift pallet on the floor. No touching, no moving, just staring.

To the left, a couple was laid on the floor under a blanket, laying with the boy on top though neither of them were moving. You couldn’t help but giggle when Sasha crawled over to their bed, whispering something into the girl’s ear, before getting a nod in agreement. You watched with reverence as the brunette stood up on the little bed, and started jumping.

What a great friend. It didn’t count if they weren’t moving their bodies on their own, you suppose. Maybe God would think the same thing.

You weren’t left to marinate in your own thoughts for long, since you soon felt a presence beside where you sat on your bed.

“I’m hoping God is like a t-rex or something,” a boy, the very handsome boy with grey hair and pretty hazel-green eyes you’d been waiting for said, sliding onto the mattress beside you, “Maybe if they don’t move He can’t see Jean inside of her like that.”

You chuckled, scooting over on the mattress to allow him to sit comfortably on the bed with you. He moved closer, sliding right up beside you. His left leg was touching your right. He had hair on his, coarse and black and lightly covering the appendage, and his body was warm.

“You were looking for me?” you said hopefully, looking into his eyes.

He chuckled, reaching over to grab your hand. They were bigger than yours, with pretty blue veins that ran alongside his tendons beneath his skin.

“Course I was,” he said softly, leaning in closer to you to be heard, “Hange told me you were coming. There’s no other girl in the room I would want beside you.”

You melted a bit a that, the heat beginning to rise up your body to your cheeks.

“You did choose a damn good hiding spot though, I’ll tell you that. Took me longer than I’d like to admit to come and find you. But, I’m here now. If you’ll have me.”

You racked your hair back with your hand, moving a bit to adjust your body so that you were facing him directly. He moved to do the same.

You sat in front of each other on the middle of the bed, your knees slightly knocking into one another. Connie was dressed down to his checkered black and green boxers, just like all the other boys situated on their own mats and air mattresses around you. While you were dressed down to your pearly white sports bra and cotton boy short underwear.

Your eldest sister had bought them for you as a “going away” gift before you’d officially left your family home for college. They were white as well, with a tiny red cherry embroidered on the fabric above your sex.

“You’re a young woman, and you’re going to a school with boys. I know you know better than to completely ruin yourself for your future husband, but I do know the drill,” she’d said to you one sunny Saturday afternoon, sipping lemonade and eating cookies on your back porch after she’d given you your gift, “It’s okay to try some things. I did when I was your age, I bet lots of your friends have already too. But, just remember: God is always watching, and you know what he wouldn’t want you to do. Just make good choices, and always have undergarments that match.”

So, here you were. In a room with several of the other young adults that you had managed to befriend so far in your time at your astutely religious, community-driven, sexually repressed university, with a man in your borrowed bed that you’d allowed to be there.

Your mother would have a heart attack if she saw you now.

“Okay,” you said firmly, shaking any nerves left buzzing beneath your fingertips, “What should we do, exactly?”

He looked into your eyes like they were deep enough to swim in. He didn’t break that eye contact as he leaned forward, sliding his hands up your sides to wiggle underneath the fabric of your bra.

“Is this okay?” he said, cupping your breasts in his warm hands, “Can I take it off?”

You nodded, closing your eyes as he lifted off the garment, exposing you to the chill air of your little hidden corner of the living room.

Even with your eyes closed, you could tell he was staring. Just taking in the sight for a moment as he ran his blunt nails along the surface of your stomach. But then, you heard a shaky breath, and before you could question why, there was a warm wetness along the swell of your breast.

“What are you doing?” you said, your eyes snapping open to look at the man in front of you.

He’d leaned his upper body down to kiss at the darker skin of your areola, making little kitten licks and soft kisses along the surface until his mouth had reached its destination. He licked a stripe from the underside of your breast up to your nipple, taking the hardened bud in his mouth as he began to suck.

The pleasure was instantaneous. Why didn’t it feel this way when you brushed against your breasts on your own? Why did you feel so warm all over all of a sudden?

“Connie,” you said, a soft moan escaping your lips with his name.

He opened his eyes, looking up at you from below with those pretty green eyes. He wrapped his hands around your waist, sitting back for a moment to bring you up and into his lap.

He was hard, you could feel it.

“Feel good princess?” he asked, placing tender kisses along the column of your neck, letting one hand trace the length of your spine while the other pinched a swollen nipple between his delicate fingers.

“Yes,” you moaned, feeling yourself grind against his length nestled right beneath your sex.

Your underwear was wet with your juices, molded to your sex, and transparent where you had begun to leak onto the fabric. No one had ever touched you this way. You see now why God didn’t want you to let anyone but your husband touch you this way. His hands were so perfect, made just for you, and you already couldn’t imagine someone else being touched by him with the same level of affection he was giving you.

A tiny part of your brain wondered if the other girls were letting their partners touch them like this. Were you a slut? Was this wrong, even though it wasn’t technically sex?

All your thoughts went out the window as he ran a finger down the length of your sex, dipping into the warm wet heat gathering between your plump thighs.

“You know, I believe the holy book does saying something about a man’s duty to pleasure his wife,” he said kissing down the length of your sternum, “Submitting to one another out of reverence for Christ,” and all that. Is it really sex if I just touch you here, a little?”

You shook your head “no” furiously, blocking out any thoughts burning in the back of your mind that believed otherwise.

His finger touched something, some little part of you down there that felt breathtaking, and he wouldn’t stop touching it. Over and over and over again, he kept pressing against it and rubbing it with the flat pad of his index finger. Even through your (now basically useless) panties, you felt all the nerves in your body firing off beneath your skin.

Is this what your family had guilted you your whole life into fearing? You’d be avoiding this for the last few years of your life?

“Maybe we can add something?” he said, sounding just as breathless as you, “Can I put it here? Just between your thighs, not in you. That’s not really sex either. You’d still be perfectly intact.”

As your pleasure mounted, quickly approaching a climax guided by his long tanned fingers, you didn’t care anymore. You reached down to pull at the waistband of his boxers, just barely pulling down the garment enough the expose the little tuft of grey hair just above his…

“Oh,” you moaned, his fingers still moving against you as he pulled himself free from his clothing.

His cock was… pretty. You’d spent years dreading the idea of what someone’s “manhood” might look like, but he was pretty down there. His length was flushed the most gorgeous shade of pink at the tip, which was a beautiful compliment to his olive tanned skin. The little droplet of precum budding on his cockhead reminded you of morning dew on blooming wildflowers and tall grass.

What had you been so afraid of?

“You can do whatever you want with me,” you groaned, grinding harder against his fingers.

He smiled against your skin as he adjusted your body: laying you down on your side as he slid right up behind you. He shimmied off your panties, letting all of your natural lubricant trickle down your upper thighs. His fingers dipped down between your legs, trailing their way back up until he was touching the fold where your legs were lightly pressed together. He groaned when his fingers slid between the folds of your pussy, finally able to comfortably rub the surface of your clit with how wet you were.

He left his boxers around his waist, pulled just low enough for him to be able to move in his haste to finally feel you.

“Oh, Connie,” you said, a hint of panic laced into your tone when you feel his cock brushing up against your sex.

“Relax princess, I got you. Not gonna fuck you like you deserve until you’re my wife,” he said, bottoming out with his waist flush against your ass.

You looked down, catching the slightest glimpse of his cock head peeking out from the meat of your thighs. You can hear how wet you are when he starts to move, fucking into the tight crevice of the very highest point between your thighs. His cock is rubbing against your pussy like this, the motions from his thrusting angled just right.

“Wife?” you questioned, letting your eyes roll to a close as the warmth in your belly began to swell, “Want me to be your wife?”

He moved his hands, wrapping one around your body to pull your hair, guiding you into a kiss, while the other found your nipple and tugged on it gently.

“Cum for me angel and I’ll buy you a ring first thing in the morning,” he said, kissing at the side of your neck, “I want this pussy for the rest of my life. I want you barefoot and pregnant with my babies one day.”

You can’t help the sounds that are coming out of your mouth. Your moans and heated sighs are easily loud enough to be heard, but you don’t care. How can you care when he’s making you feel like this? When your body feels like it’s on the edge of falling apart only for him to stitch you back together, and he hasn’t even been inside of you yet.

Maybe marriage would be good. You’d make a lovely wife, with a handsome husband, who knows how you liked to be touched. Maybe God would be forgiving if you decided to go further. How could God be against this?

When Connie places a firm bite on the sensitive skin of your neck, and you’re cumming all over his cock, and the world turns white, all you can think to care about is what doing more than this could feel like. When you look down and see his cum splattered between your thighs, mixing with your own slick as it drips down onto the mattress, nothing else matters.

Only him, and his breath on the nape of your neck, and his kisses across the length of your shoulders.

It’s only when you’re coming down from your high that you notice that the room has gone quiet. No bed squeaking, no “ooo’s and ahh’s” of young men and women seeing the opposite sexes genitals for the first time, no music.

You look up, broken out of your reverie when you see none other than Hange, along with a small group from the small group peering at you from above the nightstand.

Sasha, Ymir, Historia, Mikasa, Eren, Armin… all looking at you with the slightest hint of... sadness in their eyes.

“Well, everyone. I think someone may have broken the party rules,” they tsked, “Armin, do me a favor and research what God says about fucking the thighs of someone who isn’t your wife.”

“On it,” the little blonde said, scurrying off somewhere to do as he was told.

And then you knew, the time for shaming had commenced.

this was a request for my 400 milestone celebration event! the mini masterlist will be: here — crossposted on ao3: here (if u wanna bookmark it or anything) ~ @anime-central <333 @crystal-lilac

#connie x reader #connie smut #aot smut #thigh fucking #intercrural sex #interfemoral sex #cw virginity #cw purity culture #kk.writes #kk.aot #kk.naughty #mdni #this was supposed to be a drabble ㅋㅋㅋ #im in no way an expert on any religion i just have religious trauma & time on my hands #kk.reqs

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