I'm very very very sorry for late post 😭
anywaysss,,, here's the part 4
Pairing: nerdmin x reader
Synopsis: you’re the loud, outgoing president of the university anime club—always organizing events, hyping cosplay shoots, and dragging everyone into late-night chaos. nerd!Armin—quiet club treasurer, glasses-wearing Attack on Titan lore expert who blushes if anyone looks at him too long—has been secretly obsessed with you for months. after the filthy all-nighter in the club room, the risky rooftop session, and the slow, sweet morning marathon in his dorm, the big convention day finally arrives. you convince Armin to cosplay Eren for the club booth, but the tension between you two is unbearable. when the lines get long and the changing tent behind the booth becomes the only private space, you drag your pathetic, whimpery boyfriend in for a desperate, quick, but intense quickie while he’s still half in his Eren cosplay.
Content: nsfw, smut, mdni, quickie, semi-public risk (convention changing tent), dry humping, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, standing sex + lifted leg, subby pathetic armin, university au, anime convention setting, lots of whimpering/begging, desperate & fast pace, slight exhibitionism thrill, fluffy shy aftercare
──────────────── MDNI 18+ ────────────────
Part 4: Convention Day (The Changing Tent Quickie)
The convention hall is loud, bright, and overwhelming. Booths line the massive room like colorful soldiers—merch stalls, photo ops, panel signs, and the constant buzz of excited attendees in full cosplay. Your anime club booth is doing surprisingly well thanks to the giant Survey Corps banner Armin designed, the printed manga panels, and the free glitter temporary tattoos you’re handing out.
Armin is dressed as Eren Yeager.
He looks unfairly good in it.
The white button-up shirt is open at the collar, brown vest hugging his slim frame, green cloak draped over one shoulder, and the fake Survey Corps emblem pinned proudly on his chest. His blond hair is styled in that signature messy Eren look (you helped him with the wig cap earlier), and his wire-rimmed glasses are swapped for contacts today, making his wide blue eyes even more striking. The harness straps across his torso accentuate his shoulders in a way that has you staring more than you should.
He’s currently standing behind the booth table, nervously explaining the lore of the latest Attack on Titan arc to a group of freshmen while his cheeks stay permanently pink. Every time someone compliments his cosplay he stammers a soft “t-thank you” and glances at you like he’s begging for rescue.
You’ve been teasing him all morning.
Brushing against him “accidentally” while restocking stickers. Leaning in close to whisper “you look so fuckable in that harness” when no one’s looking. Watching the way his pants tighten every single time.
By midday the line for photos and freebies is long, and the convention heat is making everything stickier. Armin keeps shifting uncomfortably behind the table, trying to hide the obvious bulge the Eren cosplay pants are doing nothing to conceal.
Grabbing his wrist, you lean over the table and announce loudly to the other club members, “Armin and I are going to grab more stock from the back! Be right back!”
Before he can protest, you drag him behind the booth into the small changing tent the club set up for emergency cosplay fixes. It’s a tiny fabric cube—barely big enough for two people—with a flimsy zipper door and a single folding chair inside. The noise of the convention is muffled but still audible: laughter, announcements over the speakers, footsteps passing by.
The second the zipper closes, you push Armin against the thin fabric wall. His back hits it with a soft rustle.
“Baby,” you whisper, already palming him through the cosplay pants, “you’ve been hard since we left the dorm. I can’t focus with you looking like this.”
Armin lets out a broken whimper, head falling back against the tent wall. His hands fly to your waist, fingers digging in desperately. “W-we can’t— not here— people are right outside— what if someone hears—”
You kiss him hard to shut him up. He melts instantly, moaning softly into your mouth as you grind your thigh between his legs. His cock is rock hard, straining painfully against the fabric. You can feel the wet spot already forming at the tip.
“You’re leaking just from wearing Eren’s outfit,” you tease, nipping at his bottom lip. “Pathetic. My pretty nerd can’t even handle a little cosplay without getting desperate.”
He whines, hips bucking forward into your hand. “It’s not the outfit— it’s you— you’ve been teasing me all day and I keep remembering how you rode me this morning and how full you were with my cum and—”
You drop to your knees just long enough to yank his pants and boxers down enough to free his cock. It springs out, flushed and dripping. You give him one slow lick from base to tip, tasting the salty pre-cum, before standing back up and turning around.
“Lift my skirt,” you order, bracing your hands on the folding chair in front of you.
Armin obeys with shaking hands. He flips up the short pleated skirt you’re wearing (a simple Scout Regiment-inspired outfit), pulls your panties to the side, and presses the head of his cock against your soaked entrance.
“C-can I… please?” he begs, voice cracking, forehead resting on your shoulder. “I’ll be quick— I promise— I just need to be inside you again—”
You push back. He slides in with one desperate thrust, bottoming out so deep you both have to bite back moans. The tent walls rustle dangerously with the movement.
Armin’s hips start snapping forward immediately—fast, frantic, needy strokes that make the chair creak under your hands. One arm wraps around your waist to hold you steady while the other reaches around to rub your clit in tight circles.
“F-fuck— so wet— still so full from this morning— I can feel my cum inside you— hah— you’re dripping down my balls again—”
His thrusts are short and deep, the harness straps on his chest pressing against your back every time he leans in. He’s trying so hard to stay quiet, but broken whimpers keep escaping—soft, pathetic little sounds that go straight to your core.
“Gonna— gonna cum already— I’m sorry— you feel too good— please let me fill you— please—”
You clench around him on purpose and he sobs quietly, hips stuttering as he cums hard—hot, thick spurts pumping deep inside you while his whole body trembles. He keeps grinding through it, milking every drop, whispering “thank you… thank you…” against your neck like a mantra.
You’re right behind him, biting your lip hard to stay silent as your orgasm crashes over you. The risk of someone walking by, the muffled convention noise, the way Armin is still in his Eren cosplay with the green cloak half-falling off his shoulders—it all makes it hotter.
For a few seconds you both just pant, his cock still buried inside you, cum slowly leaking down your thigh.
Armin carefully pulls out, whimpering at the loss, then drops to his knees behind you. He uses the clean wipes you keep in the tent to gently clean you up, pressing soft kisses to the back of your thigh like he’s apologizing for being so desperate.
When you both finally fix your clothes, he looks completely wrecked—hair messier than before, lips swollen, a fresh hickey barely hidden by the collar of his Eren shirt, and a blissed-out, shy smile on his face.
He zips the tent open a crack and peeks out, then turns back to you with wide eyes.
“They’re still busy at the booth,” he whispers, cheeks burning. “We… we should go back before they notice how long we were gone.”
You grin, fixing the Survey Corps emblem on his vest and stealing one last kiss.
“Later tonight, after the convention closes,” you murmur against his lips, “we’re going back to your dorm. And this time I want you to fuck me while you’re still wearing the full Eren harness. Think you can handle that, nerdmin?”
Armin lets out the softest, most pathetic whimper, already half-hard again in his cosplay pants.
“I… I think I can try,” he mumbles, hiding his burning face in your shoulder. “For you… anything.”
You both slip out of the tent one after the other, trying to look innocent, but the matching flushed cheeks and the way Armin can’t stop smiling shyly at you for the rest of the day give you both away.
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