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fatherbrat · 2 months ago

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LET'S SNEAK, AOT MULTI

sum. various aot boys and how they fuck you while trying to keep your relationship a secret. inspired by lyrics from sneak by leon thomas :p

feat. eren jaeger. jean kirstein. connie springer. armin arlert.

cw. cheating/infidelity, missionary & doggy, face-sitting, a nasty blowjob, praise, riding/cowgirl, creampie, office sex, risky sex, hold the moan, reader has multiple orgasms, some angst if you squint, not proofread...

wc. 2.7k

EREN JAEGER “can i fuck you in the daytime, daytime? even though that pussy isn’t mine.”

Eren’s moral compass is a bit skewed.

But you wouldn’t dare tell him that. He’d only throw it right back in your face, claiming you're worse. You’re the one with a boyfriend after all. He’s single. Technically.

“Where’s the boyfriend?” Eren asks as soon as he crosses the threshold into your home. He doesn’t bother waiting for a response before pulling his shirt off.

You close the front door behind you and sigh. “He’s out of town. Look…” You hesitate, not really wanting to finish your sentence, even though you know it’s long overdue.

Eren turns to look at you, one eyebrow raised. “Don’t tell me you’ve grown a conscience.” He doesn’t sound annoyed, or even surprised. More like…intrigued. Regardless, the words make you wince.

“He wants to take me to meet his parents,” you tell him, avoiding eye contact.

Eren lets out a whistle. There’s a moment of silence, both of you lost in your own thoughts, before you hear the sound of Eren unzipping his pants.

You stare at him. “What are you doing?”

He smirks. “I’m already here. Might as well go out with a bang.”

You don’t bother wasting any time pretending you weren’t hoping he’d say that. You strip, and almost immediately you’re pressed against a wall. Eren kisses you in a way that can only be described as needy, like he’s taking extra and stowing it away for later.

His hands are everywhere, squeezing and caressing and memorizing.

When he lays you down on the sofa, you aren’t expecting him to plant his tongue between your thighs.

“Eren–”

“Shhh,” he whispers, lifting his head to meet your eyes. “This is the last time, right?” He waits for you to nod before continuing. “Let me savor it.”

He makes surprisingly quick work of making you come and kisses you right after so you can taste yourself on his lips. When he fucks you he does it slowly, agonizingly, eyes glued to your face as he watches your lips part when he bottoms out.

Your nails dig into his back. “Eren, don’t tease,” you huff. “Faster.”

He smiles down at you, shaking his head slightly. “You’re so impatient,” he says, clicking his tongue. “What happened to letting me savor it?”

You squirm beneath him. “Fuck savoring. Fuck me.”

Eren doesn’t need to hear you say it twice. He picks up the pace, dropping his forehead against your shoulder as he grabs your waist.

“Gonna miss this pussy,” he breathes against your skin. The way he says it is tender, a stark contrast to the rough way he pounds you. You wonder, just for a second, if he really means that he’s going to miss you.

But Eren can see your mind wandering. He taps your cheek.

“Hey. Pay attention. You haven’t come enough times to start losing your mind already.”

His eyes narrow as he takes in the sourness of your expression, unimpressed by his statement.

He huffs and pulls out. “Turn around.”

“What?”

“Turn around and get on all fours.”

You frown but comply. He rests one hand flat against your back, pushing you down into the perfect arch before he prods your slit with the tip of his cock.

“Gonna make you see stars,” he mutters, before burying himself inside you.

And he does. His rhythm is dizzying, and it has you biting into the couch cushions, groaning with every stroke.

His arm wraps around your hips so he can lay his hand flat on your lower belly. When he travels lower and starts to circle your clit, all the muscles in your core tighten. He doesn’t slow down when you reach your climax. In fact, you think he goes faster.

“Fuck, Erennn,” you whine, dragging out the last consonant of his name as you dig your fingernails into your palm.

“I know, I know. Takin’ me so well. One more.”

You try to remember what he’d always say, something about good girls coming in threes, or maybe third time’s the charm. Something that meant he’d always make you come three times before leaving. It’s hard to think of what it was when you can hear him slamming against your ass.

He draws out the third one in no time, calling you his good girl as you moan into the sofa.

It’s bittersweet when he pulls out, and you wish he would make you come in fives or something. Eren gives you a look that tells you he can tell what you’re thinking.

He presses his lips to your forehead as he pulls his pants on and you can sense the goodbye in it.

“Take care of yourself, mkay? I’ll see you around.”

You watch him leave, wondering if you’ll see him for real.

JEAN KIRSTEIN “know you wanna keep this thing discreet. hear you calling through the streets.”

You’ve molded Jean into the perfect fuck buddy.

He’ll drop everything to come over the minute you text, doesn’t spread your business around, and always makes you come first.

“Right there, right there, fuck.” You grind against his face, throwing your head back as your grip around the headboard tightens.

Jean hums into your pussy as you orgasm, grazing his teeth against your clit as you ride it out.

Your body goes limp and he swiftly comes out from underneath you, laying you down on the bed gently as he peppers kisses across your skin.

“I’m gonna grab you some water,” he says, not waiting for a response before leaving your room.

You watch him go, a small smile sitting on your face. He’s become so attuned to you, always at your beck and call, willing to cater to you in any way you ask.

It’s the kind of behavior that makes you want to suck his dick.

So, when he returns from the kitchen holding a glass of ice water, you ask him.

“Do you wanna throat fuck me?”

Jean freezes, staring at you like you’ve grown a second head. You suppose you have—it’s been nine months since the two of you started fucking and you have yet to go down on him (not that he’s ever complained). Still, you’d be offended at the look he’s giving you if it weren’t for the obvious erection growing in his pants.

You tilt your head to the side, eyeing his crotch before meeting his gaze. “Yes or no?”

“Yes,” he answers quickly, suddenly unfrozen and eager. He places the glass on your dresser, slipping out of his sweatpants and moving towards you.

Jean watches you roll off the bed and onto the floor, sitting up on your knees and looking at him with an expression that almost makes him dizzy.

Something feverish blazes in his eyes when he stands in front of you, and you have to work to keep the excitement off your face when he tugs down his boxers.

He strokes his cock idly, watching you look up at him. “You sure?”

This time you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face. “I’m sure.”

He taps his dick on your lips, tentatively, and you open up. He shudders when you run your tongue along the underside of his tip.

Jean cradles your head in his hands as he pushes himself all the way into your mouth. There’s a shaky inhale from him when he hits the back of your throat.

“Oh shit,” he breathes.

You close your lips around him, hollowing out your cheeks, and something in him snaps.

The speed at which he thrusts into your mouth is almost violent, and he moans when you gag, the pads of his fingertips pressing harder into your scalp. He’s already sensitive from being rock hard the whole time you sat on his face, and his sloppy in-and-out, in-and-out motion drags your spit everywhere–your face, his pelvis, even your chest.

The feeling of him hitting your throat makes your eyes water, and you feel him growing impossibly harder against your tongue when you look up at him with glassy eyes.

He doesn’t last long, not with you looking at him like that. He’s mumbling an apology as he fills your mouth, saying if you weren’t so perfect he would’ve lasted longer. You’re grinning as you swallow down his cum, watching how his eyebrows furrow as he looks at your neck, and he kneels down to kiss you immediately.

When he pulls away, he’s looking at you with a soft sort of wonder. Admiration almost. A bashful smile pulls at his lips.

“Can we do that again?”

CONNIE SPRINGER “she like rich niggas, i’m her type. bored at the crib, she tryna pipe.”

conniiieee come over, im bored ;)

Connie smiles to himself when he reads your texts, his dick nearly stirring to life at the implication of your messages.

Despite your agreement to keep your… situation lowkey, he always pulls up to your apartment complex on his motorcycle, practically alerting the masses that he’s about to come upstairs and rock your shit.

You meet him at your front door, scowling. “Why do you always show up on that loud ass bike? I know you have a car now.”

Connie just smiles, scooting around you to come inside. “You keeping tabs on me, baby?”

You roll your eyes and kick the door shut. “Sasha won’t stop raving about how cool it is.” You do air quotes around the word ‘cool,’ trying to imitate the lilt in Sasha’s voice when she talks about it.

Connie drops his motorcycle helmet on the shoe rack by the door. “It is cool. If you’d stop being so stubborn and take me back I could take you for a ride.”

But there’s really only one kind of ride you’re interested in right now! Which is how you end up straddling him on the couch, pressing kisses into the side of his neck.

Connie’s hands rest loosely on your hips, letting you grind against him as slowly as you want. Your breathing is shaky, sweat coating your skin, a byproduct of the last four orgasms. You lift yourself off him on trembling legs, higher and higher until just the head of Connie’s cock remains inside you. You catch his eyes briefly, and the mirth swimming in them is the only warning you have for what he does next.

His fingers tighten their grip on your hips, tugging you back down on his cock harshly. A strangled sound escapes you, air catching in your throat with the sudden movement.

“Con-”

He kisses you, cutting you off as he bounces you up and down.

“Last one, mama,” he says against your lips.

You can feel an ache in your legs from them being bent underneath you for so long, your head is fogged up with leftover pleasure, and there’s a pressure building up deep in your stomach. This is why you keep letting him come over all these months after your breakup. He knows just how to wear you out.

Connie pulls you against him, chest to chest, and wraps his arms around you. He lets you rest your forehead against his as his cock brushes up against your g-spot, forcing moans out of you that can only be described as wanton.

“That’s it, baby. Nobody fucks you like this, huh?”

You shake your head, your nose nudging his. “Just you.”

Connie practically purrs in satisfaction, right before he comes inside you. You melt against him, the pressure in your abdomen releasing as you cry out. Connie’s lips sweep across your jaw, patient and gentle while he waits for you to come down.

When you do, he leans back, eyelids heavy with contentment. You can feel him softening inside you. You already know what he’s about to say just based on the expression he’s wearing, but you wait for him to ask before giving the same response you always do.

“Y’know we could do that all the time if you’d take me back.” He doesn’t sound as heartbroken as he used to, like he’s grown used to this back-and-forth the two of you have going on.

You give him a wry smile, wiping beads from the back of your neck. “We didn’t break up because the sex was bad, Connie.”

He kisses you then, soft and lingering. “Worth a shot.”

He cleans you up and you let him take a shower and rummage through your drawers for the few pieces of clothing you never returned to him. When he’s leaving, he throws a wink your way, picking up his motorcycle helmet with one hand and unlocking the door with the other.

"Text again soon, alright? Love you."

ARMIN ARLERT “always down for an afternoon delight, but i can never crash and spend the night.”

“We have to stop,” you whisper halfheartedly, tangling your fingers in Armin’s hair as he kisses you.

Armin smiles against your lips. “Why?” he asks, his hands traveling down the length of your pencil skirt. He starts kissing down your neck, mouth going lower and lower until his fingers reach the hem of your skirt.

He pulls your skirt up over your ass, letting it bunch up around your waist. You giggle when he turns you around and gently presses your cheek against the door.

“I’ll get fired if HR finds out,” you say, arching your back as he pulls down your underwear. Your wet cunt feels a rush of cool air when he does, and you gasp when Armin plunges his fingers in. You feel the weight of his chin on your shoulder as he presses his chest against your back.

“But she’s so wet,” he whispers in your ear. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you like that HR could find out.”

You neither confirm nor deny, just humming and wiggling your bare ass in response.

He chuckles, the sound traveling straight down to your core. Armin doesn’t give any warning before he slips himself inside you. He pulls you away from the door after the fact, covering your mouth with one hand and wrapping the other arm around your waist.

The hardest thing (other than Armin) about keeping your lunch “meetings” secret is the fact that neither of you are particularly quiet. Armin muffles your moans with his hand and muffles his own by biting into the junction of your neck and your shoulder. There’s nothing to be done about the sound of his hips slapping against your ass or his cock sliding in and out of your pussy. All the two of you can do is hope nobody comes back from lunch early and walks past the copy room on the fourth floor.

(But anyways, where’s the fun in it without a little risk.)

You moan into Armin’s hand when he hits a particular spot and he slows. He uses the hand on your face to tug your head back. “So noisy,” he says, lips brushing against your neck as he speaks. “I know you want the whole office to hear, but don’t be so obvious.”

Your walls clench around him and he hisses, picking up the pace once more.

“You like thinking about our coworkers hearing you?” You shake your head, but the way your pussy squeezes him proves you to be a bold-faced liar.

Armin’s teeth graze your shoulder, his breath hitching as his hips lose their rhythm.

“Go ahead then,” he whispers against your skin. “Let them hear.” He moves his hand from your mouth and loosely wraps his fingers around your neck instead.

Another moan threatens to escape you, but you refuse, rolling your lips between your teeth in an attempt to keep quiet.

Armin bites you then, and you gasp loudly. His thrusts become careless as he frantically chases his own orgasm. He brings his hand back up to your face, this time slipping two fingers between your lips and pressing down on your teeth so you can’t close your mouth.

You can hear the faint sound of footsteps that signal the end of your lunch break. A door opens, and voices become audible as your coworkers get closer.

Armin smacks your ass, hard, and it’s enough to pull you over the edge. The two of you come together, him sinking his teeth into your skin to suppress his own moans. You bite down on his fingers, but it does little to help. You’re positive the entire office can hear you screaming his name.

(づ๑•ᴗ•๑)づ♡

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