Sub! Armin Arlert/ AFAB! Reader (Part 3)
HOLY FUCK THIS BITCH IS LONGGGGGGGGGG. I'd feel worse about having held this story hostage for a while if I didn't have like 8k words to give you right now. But yeah, here is the last part (not counting the AMAB! reader version of this I will do later on). I hope it was worth the wait :) These people wanted to be tagged, so here you go @hobilluvvr @angerskittles @tsukishimawhore
CW: Not healthy relationship things; manipulation; obsession; bullying; masochism; overstimulation; oral (reader receiving for once); riding; choking; drowning??? I'll explain later; basically just dark content, same as the last two. Please know your limits and don't read if any of that makes you uncomfortable. Take care of yourself :)
“What’s up, Ackerman?” You ask with a lilt to your tone as you follow Mikasa out of the lunchroom and into the hallway. It’s deserted, which you’re sure she intended. When she finds an appropriate place to talk, Mikasa stops and turns to face you.
When she turns to you her features are as hard as stone, unmoving while she glares you down. But although you are quite used to this harsh expression, as is anyone who looks her way, this one feels different. Less of a ‘resting bitch face’ and more of a stoic mask. There’s just a little too much crease in her brow, a little too much intensity in her eyes. There’s genuine anger trapped behind that façade, you can tell.
“I don’t know what you’re up to, but I see how Armin looks at you,” Mikasa explains. Her voice remains flat despite her (to you, obvious) spike in emotion — that monotonous tone that makes her seem like she has everything under control. It annoys you to no end. “I see how his eyes grow wider with fear whenever he sees you approaching. He starts to shake.”
“It’s adorable, isn’t it?”
Mikasa’s left eye twitches ever so slightly. “No. It’s not. It’s worrying, if you ask me.”
“I wasn’t asking.”
“You’re not capable of having a conversation without being obnoxious, are you?” You find your words getting caught in your throat. No one’s ever fired back with such ease before. No stuttering, no inability to even look into your eyes. It’s strange, bickering with someone who’s on the same level as you, and you’re starting to think she might be one greater. “All I’m asking is that you leave Armin alone. I’m sure you have enough self-control to do something as simple as that.”
“I don’t know, Ackerman,” You drawl, tracing the tip of your boot along the cracks in the floor. “Armin…He’s one of a kind, you know? I don’t think I’ll ever be able to find anyone else that’s so…masochistic. I did tell you he likes what I do to him, didn’t I?”
Mikasa’s stoic mask is at work, trying it’s best to keep her features still and unaffected. But it just can’t hide the way her eyes widen the smallest fraction at your statement.
“I don’t care what you think Armin likes or doesn’t like. If I ever see you harassing him again—“
“What? You’ll tell on me?”
“Precisely.”
You scoff, rolling your eyes and turning around to walk back to the lunchroom when Mikasa’s next words make you stop in your tracks.
“I’ll let Mr. Levi Ackerman know what you’re doing. And, if I’m not mistaken, he’s not as whipped for you like all the other teachers are.”
Mr. Ackerman is…harsh. He doesn’t pick favorites or give special treatment. But most importantly, he doesn’t tolerate anyone’s bullshit. Anyone’s. The first time you tried to get off easy with a bribe he’d given you a week’s detention, and then another week’s when you tried to tell him off about it. He wasn’t one to indulge kissing up, bribes, threats…nothing worked on the guy. If Mikasa went running to him about Armin, with his kinds of punishments he might go as far as to expel you. If you’re expelled there’s no way you can even lay eyes on Armin again. If you agree to her terms, at least you can still see him. It won’t be the same, but…
You look over your shoulder to see the ghost of a smile grace Mikasa’s face. She’d gotten you, she knows she has.
“So? Do we have a deal?”
You let a breath out of your nose. “Fine. Deal.”
...
Armin hasn’t talked to you for approximately three days, ten hours and thirty minutes.
…not that he’s counting.
Ever since Mikasa took matters into her own hands, Armin has decided to take the escape he was given. No more being harassed, no more spending his days after school washing the clothes he was wearing when you pushed him into the school’s fountain, and no more washing those same clothes clean of cum stains.
Life, the universe, or just one extremely scary woman gave Armin the opportunity to get his life back together after you came along with your grade (and underwear) dropping ways and ruined him. Not that he minded. For a little while. But that little fling, well, it was just that: an exciting fling that Armin knew had to come to an end at some point if he ever wanted to go to his dream college and get his dream job. Marine biology would wait for no man, after all. And it certainly wouldn’t wait for his whipped ass if he let you control him any longer.
So, for these past three days, ten hours, and thirty minutes, Armin has kept his nose in a book and his ass in line.
Surprisingly, you’d been doing the same. Whatever Mikasa said to threaten you must have really scared you straight. Armin always figured there had to be something that could put a damper on your bravado, but if someone could find and abuse whatever that was, it certainly wasn't him. Leave it up to Mikasa to pull people apart psychologically and find the one thing that wipes the smile from their face. All she would have to do is use her leverage over a certain teacher to frighten you off of Armin’s path.
With the same last name, you’d think Mikasa and Mr. Ackerman would be related. That’s what everyone in the school thought too. The two tired from jokes about them being long lost siblings, cousins, parent and child, you name it. They bonded over their shared hatred for the running joke, developing a loyalty of sorts along the way. It was pretty funny, Armin thought back then. Downright disturbing now that Mikasa’s using it for leverage.
But there’s really nothing he can do about that.
Armin sits curled up in a chair at the school’s library. Normally, sitting for hours on end on school property would be uncomfortable but it is nothing of the sort when the school just so happens to have one of the best libraries in the nation. It houses walls upon walls of shelves stacked with books, many of which have won awards. There are tables in a clearing towards the back for quiet studying and a reading nook towards the front. In the nook, which Armin thinks looks more like a small living room, there’s a patterned carpet covering the pale hardwood floors, around which sits a few small couches and chairs. Armin would be more disappointed that the reading nook is more towards the front of the library, forcing everyone in there to be subjected to the chatter of the new arrivals, if it weren’t positioned right under a skylight. The warm glow of the sun perfectly illuminating the pages of Armin’s novel certainly makes up for the occasional interruption, which is something he is usually able to tune out anyway.
Something Armin isn't able to tune out is the sound of a loud, boisterous voice in the hallway right outside the library. It comes closer and closer before suddenly the doors burst open and you, of all people, walk in like you own the place. Which, to be fair, you do. You own the library the second you stride in, your friend at your heels looking like a mere lapdog to your glory. Armin almost hopes to see you walking toward him, ready to pull him up by the collar and have your way with him…
…But he’s on a break from you, he reminds himself. A permanent one. What kind of man would he be if he goes back on his word as soon as things get hard?
‘Hard’ as in, every time Armin looks at you he can feel his pants tightening ‘hard’. Now included.
It’s not his fault! He swears it! It’s just…the way your strong legs carry you into the library and right past his chair without even sparing a quick glance in his direction. It reminds him of how he sat atop those same legs during lunch, trying his best not to writhe and scream for you while you prodded at his insides under the cover of the tabletop. And your arms, swinging by your sides, pulling a chair out from underneath a table towards the back of the library — they held him down, pressed him against the copier. Those hands slipped underneath his pants and into his underwear. They slid along his length, which Armin can feel twitch uncomfortably in his jeans. He clenches his thighs together, bringing his knees up towards his chin. But he doesn’t remove his eyes from you. Not even his shame can keep his eyes from traveling further down to those fingers that ruthlessly circled around his tip during his first sexual run in with you and completely avoided his cock during the second. Armin can feel a moan bubbling in his throat. He swallows it down before he embarrasses himself completely.
But apparently embarrassment is something that just can’t be avoided today, as soon enough Armin is startled out of his daydreaming by the yelling of the friend you’d entered the library with.
“Hey, lover boy! How ‘bout you quit creeping on (Name), yeah?” They shout, hand cupped around their mouth to amplify their already ear splitting voice as if the shushing from the librarian means nothing to them.
Has Armin really been that obvious!?
Dammit…!
He can’t physically squish himself down into his chair any further than he already has in an attempt to hide his boner, but he sure can try. His visible embarrassment only serves as an admission of guilt that your friend picks up on immediately.
“Tch! Fuckin’ freak,” they mumble.
Armin hides his cringing face into his book, hoping to god that the worst is over. But should god even be on his side? Does god take pity on perverts? Apparently not. Because not even a moment later, the sound of your cruel voice is reaching Armin’s ears, and he can’t help but think he’s about to burst with the words that leave your mouth.
“He’s a freak alright, but not in the way you think. You’d explode if I told you the kind of things he gets off on, I swear.”
What.
“Holy shit, really!?”
Stop.
“Pffft, yeah. He’s not as innocent as he lets people believe.”
Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god—
“So you guys have…”
“Oh, yeah,” you say with a mouthful of food Armin cannot see, for he is determined to keep his face buried in his book this time. “A couple times. Actually, I—…nah, never mind.”
“Oh, come on, dude you can’t just stop there! Spill!”
“It’s kinda something between me and Armin. Y’know, a secret? Something your big mouth has trouble understanding,” you joke, and Armin hears something small, like a chip, make contact with a body followed by snorting laughter. Laughter so loud the librarian makes her opinion of it known with a snooty ‘hush’ in your direction.
Armin can practically hear the roll of your eyes when you say, “Fine. Let’s go over there, by the shelves. Less people around.” he hears the rustling of clothes and bags as you pack up your stuff and retreat into the forest of shelves. You’re right, it is much more insulated there and sound will not be able to travel as well. This is evident when all Armin is able to hear of your following conversation is hushed whispers — just loud enough to be heard but not clear enough to be understood.
Figures. You always were good at teasing like that. Just giving enough to make him want more. But if he did want more, he’d have to beg for it. Or, in this case, follow you to the shelves and listen in on your conversation like a fucking stalker. Like the creep Armin always seems to turn into when he’s influenced by you. But, as he promised himself: no longer.
...however, these are different circumstances, are they not? Is he truly a creep and a stalker if the conversation you’re holding is about him? No, all he wants to do is be aware of what rumors you’re spreading about him. Lord knows you have a knack for causing trouble. All Armin wants to do is prevent that.
His rationalization of his actions must have placed him under a trance, for he has no recollection of getting out of his chair and tiptoeing over to the back corners of the library. He merely finds himself peering through a gap between the shelves, through which he can clearly see you standing with your back against the wall, a bag of chips in your hand while your friend is hovering around you, buzzing eagerly like a bee who craves gossip instead of honey. And they get exactly that the second you start talking.
“As I was trying to say, I was inside of Armin the entire time you guys were eating lunch that one day.”
“Oh my god are you kidding me!?”
Oh my god are you kidding me!? Armin thinks, panic setting in.
“Nope. I’m pretty sure you witnessed me taking his virginity without even realizing it.” you laugh, taking another chip and throwing it into the air, catching it in your mouth and chomping away. With your mouth full, you boast, “He came all over himself and you were none the fucking wiser!”
Armin sucks in a breath from his hiding place. He still remembers the sticky feeling of his own cum soaking his boxers, having to clean himself off in the bathroom, and surely he remembers how most of it was unsalvageable. How he had to sit through class with a massive wet patch sticking to his crotch, making him shift uncomfortably every few seconds. He got a few questions wrong on the pop quiz thanks to the distraction.
“If only Ackerman hadn’t gotten in the way. All the things I’d do to his scrawny little nerdy body...All the things I’d let him do to mine...I mean, my body’s less scrawny and nerdy, but you get the point.”
Armin’s scrawny little nerdy knees buckle, and he has to grab onto the shelves in order to hold himself up. Y-You mean, you haven't given him your all yet!?
Nevermind that, but you’d let him do things to you? Like...like what? Armin can't help but wonder. Because even if he is on a break from you, a permanent break...it's harmless just to wonder, isn't it?
Luckily or unluckily, however you choose to view it, you don't keep Armin wondering for very long.
“It’d be nice to see him on his knees in front of me, y’know? Tongue out, eyes closed, just waiting for my pussy so he could lick it up all obediently. Although, he probably wouldn't be that good at oral...I’d be willing to show him the ropes. But it would be so cute just watching him fumble around down there...hah...now I can’t decide!”
How on earth do you say things like that in front of people so easily!? Just spilling your deepest, darkest fantasies without a care in the world. It's...outrageous! But it’s...also making Armin feel the need to grind onto the shelf directly parallel to his crotch. Curse you for being so effortlessly vulgar!
And vulgar you continue to be. “It’s funny...I can't really imagine him being good with his tongue,” you ponder in response to some question your friend had asked, a question Armin is too fixated on keeping his hips still to hear. “I mean, not that it matters. I’ve ruined him this much, I can do it some more. I could teach him some of the tricks I know. He’s always happy to learn, isn't he?”
Yes, I am! Armin thinks desperately, mind too flooded with images of you throwing your head back when his tongue slots into you to care about keeping himself still any longer. His hips rut into the shelf once, and a spark shoots up his spine. He finds himself repeating the action again, then again. His now prominent bulge rubs the smooth wood with blissful ease.
You bring your head back to rest against the wall as you continue with a new, dreamy-sounding tone, “And don’t you think he’d be the type to get himself off while giving oral? Just like...grinding against the bed like a fucking—” your head tilts, allowing you to make direct eye contact with the boy behind the shelf. “—whore.”
Armin can't stop himself before he gasps in surprise. But your friend seems too wrapped up in giggles, and you...well, you look as though you knew he was there all along.
“But, thanks to Mikasa none of that’ll ever be possible,” you shrug, pushing yourself from the wall and tossing your now empty chip bag onto a random table for someone else to clean up. “Such a shame.”
Wh...huh? That’s...that’s it?
You’re just gonna leave now?
Apparently so. You pull your friend away by the arm, intentionally dragging them so abruptly that they’re unable to make out Armin’s form, which is now disheveled and sweaty. It's almost too soon that he hears your footsteps fade out of earshot, followed by the slamming of the library’s heavy wooden doors. Armin rests his head against the shelves and takes a deep breath. Well...he has to finish himself off, now doesn't he? There’s no promising when his cock will go down now that he has all these...thoughts in his head, thanks to you. He just...won't wait as long to clean up as he did last time to reduce the staining...yeah.
Armin’s hand slides loosely from the shelf, dropping down to his belt buckle. His fingers get to work and before he knows it, they’re sliding into his boxers.
There really is no saving him, is there?
This is who Armin is now. A filthy fucking pervert who’s in heat 24/7. A masochist who likes the awful, disgusting way you treat him. He likes being hurt. He likes being ignored. He likes it when you taunt him with the knowledge of him being right fucking there, watching you as he plays with himself. God, what the fuck has his life turned into within the span of, like, a week?
Disappointment and euphoria clouds Armin’s brain all at once as he finishes. Once again, his underwear is sticky and warm and he’s got nothing to show for it. He sighs, then grunts when he sees the trash you’d left on the nearby table.
Even if he is a perverted masochist, Armin Arlert would still consider himself a good samaritan. So, when he finishes zipping up his jeans and buckling up his belt, he swipes your chip bag and crumples it up to be thrown away. Only...there’s something different about how the bag crunches underneath his fingers. As if something else was inside. Armin sincerely doubts that, but he checks out of curiosity nonetheless. Oh! Looks like he was right after all. But what’s this…?
An index card, one used to make flashcards for studying, sits inside the chip bag along with some cheeto dust. It appears blank at first, but upon closer inspection there’s some ink bleeding through the paper. Armin unfolds it, finding that it reads in scrawled sharpie marker ‘Want to hang out, Armin?’ followed by your address.
The first thing Armin thinks after reading your note is how dangerous it would be if someone else picked up the note instead of him! What if he didn’t pick it up, and someone who held the intention of harming you got to it and learned your address!?
He can only be grateful it was him who found your note…but will he use it?
Will he keep pretending to hold his pride so close to his heart like a treasured possession? Or will he finally let go of the cliff’s edge and fall into that pit of desire he’s been avoiding for so long? He’s only hanging on by a few fingers, after all. Why not just relax and let the pit catch him — comfort him after what feels like an eternity of holding back from desire?
If he goes to your house, Mikasa won’t be an obstacle. Armin guesses you thought of that.
He has a perfectly formed route to meet his disgusting desires head on, and Armin is having trouble seeing all the reasons why he should pass up that chance.
…
Armin knocks gently on the door of the house whose address matches the one written on the piece of Cheeto dust-covered paper. He’s hesitant, almost hoping whoever is inside doesn’t hear his knocks. What if your family is home? What will he say to them? How will he introduce himself? “Hi there, I’m the guy your child has been torturing at school! Don’t worry though, I’m into it.”
It’s a goddamn blessing when the door opens abruptly, startling the poor boy, and it’s just you standing there. With a glance over your shoulder and into the house it doesn’t seem that anyone else is with you, at least not in the living area.
“I-um…hi,” Armin nearly chokes. It’s so different seeing you outside of school. Different and intimidating. Have you gotten taller? Or…scarier?
“I see you couldn’t stay away,” you chuckle, letting go of the door and wandering back inside, leaving the door wide open. “Come on in. Make yourself comfortable.”
“O-okay! Yeah, I’ll just…” Stepping through the threshold of your front door feels like he’s damning himself. Like he’s signing a contract he hasn’t read the fine print of.
Your house is surprisingly well-kept. There’s a living room with a high ceiling when you just walk in, a set of stairs just parallel to the door. To the left is a kitchen that you walk into, pulling open the fridge and scanning leisurely. “Want a drink?” You ask like a perfectly kind and gracious host. It’s freaking Armin out.
“Ah, no. No, I’m okay.” He tries to refuse, waving his hands around as he stands awkwardly in the middle of your kitchen. But if he doesn’t have a drink, what would he do to occupy his hands? He already feels strange with his arms by his sides. His pinky finger twitches. “Wh- um, a-actually, maybe I will have one!”
“Kahahah! Whatever you say, dork,” you dip down to fish a couple of water bottles from the fridge. You then present one to Armin after tossing it in the air, watching it spin then catching it again. “So, care to tell me why you’re here?”
Armin’s nose scrunches both at the fact that he knows you know why he’s there, you just want to hear him say it…and at how he struggles to get the cap off of his water bottle. Try as he might, it’s just stuck. He starts to think you handed him a trick bottle just to watch him struggle. “I uh, I heard…I heard you in the library talking to your friend—“
You click your tongue and bring a hand to your chest in feigned shock. “Did you, now? Sneaky little perv!”
Armin hurries on with his explanation as if you’re just background noise he has to speak over. “—you talked about all the things you’d let me do with you…um, to you as well, and I…I thought you might let me do those things if I went to the address on the note you left.”
“So, then, I’m assuming you admit you want this, then? No more trying to pretend you’re so pure, that you’d rather focus on your precious little studies?”
“Yes!” Armin answers a little too quickly. “I want this. I…I’ve admitted it before, but now I’m ready to own up to it. I like the things you do to me. I like when you hurt me. God, I…I love it. I’ve never felt anything like it and I never will again if I just let you go like Mikasa wants me to!”
“Ah, yes. Ackerman.” You spit out her name like it tastes of poison. “She’s really only a threat at school. Professor Ackerman won’t do shit about the things I do to you outside of school, I know that much. We just have to keep this a secret if you want it to continue.”
“I will! I…I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel. I want you to k-keep hurting me, too. I want it all, I- I just…just..” Armin’s fingers are grasping and pulling at the cap still, but to no avail. “Ugh—!”
“Allow me,” you place your own bottle on the counter only to swipe Armin’s right from his hands and crack open the cap like it’s nothing (he just loosened it for you, that’s all—). Armin reaches out to take it back from you but before he can even wonder why you’ve got such a malicious grin on your face the spout of the bottle bashes into his lips and a rush of water floods his mouth.
He swallows, but it just keeps coming. He can’t breathe. When he sputters and tries to detach from the bottle he’s unable to get very far with your hand pushing the back of his head forward. All he earns for his efforts is stream after stream of water cascading down his chin and neck. From there it drips down his shirt. He jolts when droplets of the icy-cold beverage slide over his nipples. Whimpers that sound more like pathetic moans gurgle in the back of Armin’s throat. His eyes are watering. He still can’t breathe, but he doesn’t want to. You’re practically drowning him and he doesn’t want it to stop. This is exactly what he’s been missing.
A mixture of relief and disappointment stirs in Armin’s head as soon as the water bottle is ripped away from him and he can finally breathe again. He’s coughing, sputtering, wheezing with his hands braced on his knees and tears streaming down his face...but he can at least breathe. For now. Who knows what else you have hidden up your sleeve. Or, more accurately to your methods, who knows what else you’ll randomly pull out of your ass when you feel the time is right.
Armin’s eyes flick up from the water-soaked floor to meet your gaze when he hears you chuckle, tone lighthearted like all you did was toss him the water bottle and watch him miss. “Gahaha! Sorry ‘bout that, just had to get that out of my system before I let you take some of the control, y’know?”
He can’t help but let out a breathy laugh at that. No matter what position you’re in, sexually or otherwise, Armin does not believe for a second that you’d let him take any sort of control.
Sure, it may look like he’s got at least one hand on the wheel when he watches you undress after being led up to your room, when you lay on your back atop your bed. When you spread open your legs to reveal that your whole water bottle stunt got more than just your kitchen floors soaked. But you both know how much power you still hold on the poor, shaking boy before you. For one thing, you’re the only one with any experience in pleasuring others here. Armin’s been fucked (by you), he’s never done the fucking. Never even fingered or jerked anyone off before. So now, as he’s standing at the foot of your bed with twitching hands and a hard cock, he really wishes he did more research before his eagerness to finally pleasure you for once caused him to scamper up to your front door like a lost little puppy.
“Well?” you demand, taking a hand under your knee and hiking your leg up further. Armin nearly chokes. Your folds spread apart, only connected by strings of sticky slick. The scent of your arousal wafts into the air and into Armin’s nose, making the poor thing twitch in his pants. With how hard he already is mixed with the tight confinement of his jeans, the slight movement manages to evoke an aching pain. Armin must have let out an unconscious whimper that goes unheard by his own ears with how…distracted he is, for the next thing he hears out of your mouth is a snort of laughter and the mocking words, “Aww, poor baby! Never seen a pussy before, have you? Don’t know what to do with it?”
Like you don’t know, Armin thinks. His ignorance, his helplessness in this very situation is what’s causing pre to seep out of your entrance like honey from a bottle. He wonders if it tastes as sweet as honey. Probably not. That’s not really how bodies work…but he’d enjoy it just as much no matter what it tastes like, as long as it tastes like you.
“Y-you said you’d tell me what to do!” Armin protests, still shuffling awkwardly at the foot of your bed, not even daring to make a move. “You said.”
“I did, didn’t I? But I wanna see what you can do at a basic level first. With your fingers. Just to know what I’m working with.” Armin makes no moves at all, rather than his hands wringing together in front of him. “...Or, if you’re just gonna stand there like a useless lump, I might just do it myself.”
No!
No no no no, Armin isn’t useless. He’s not, he…he’ll help you.
In his desperation his palms come crashing down into the mattress, practically falling over himself in his efforts to crawl up into the bed.
“No, I— I’ve got it, I can…um, like—“ he reaches out, the air getting warmer and more humid as he gets closer to your dripping sex. But he hesitates to touch it. Like he’s afraid it’ll bite him. But it looks soft, so plush in heavy contrast to your overall sharp and prickly nature. He’s never seen you like this before…it’s so overwhelming. But, like being scared to kill a bug or rip off a bandage, he works himself up to just get the hard part over with. That hard part being the first move. His hand inches forward again, and he makes contact with the slick surface of your pussy lips. “—like…hah—“ Armin had not expected that he would be the one to moan while touching you, but life surprises all of us sometimes. He shakes it off, gliding his index and middle fingers through your wetness, trying to find a spot that would evoke a moan similar to his from you. “Like this?”
“Sure…if you wanna put me to sleep.”
Armin winces at your criticism. He doesn’t even bother looking up at your expression, knowing that all he would find is disappointment. That is not something he can handle right now.
“Did porn not teach you anything at all?”
…Armin has never watched porn in his life.
He’s being honest!
He’s only discovered his pervertedness fairly recently…with you. So, he never really had the chance to explore the depths of porn, let alone skim the surface. Even if the thought had nagged at him a few times during the days he was deprived of you, he knew nothing could feel similar enough to how you treat him. How you’re treating him right now — how even though he’s the smartest, most innocent-seeming kid in school, you know he’s just your dumb little slut. And you treat him as such.
His silence speaks volumes to you.
“Oh— oh my god, you’ve never even…” you trail off, voice crescendoing into an amused laugh. No, more cruel. Like a howl or a cackle. You raise your body up by your elbows, getting close enough to him to grab at his hand. From there you manipulate his fingers how you like, sticking his middle and index out while tucking in the others besides his thumb, which you let hover over his palm. “Well, I did say I’d be willing — no, happy — to show you the ropes, didn’t I? Looks like some basic training is needed here...there we go.”
Soon you have him exactly how you want him and you don’t even hesitate to settle your back against the bed once more, guiding Armin’s hand closer to you by his wrist until his fingers bump against your entrance. Before he can even suck in a breath, his fingers are enveloped by your insides.
“O-oh my god—“ your walls feel so hot. Never in his life could he have imagined...oh fuck.
“So,” You breathe out, using Armin’s hand like a dildo. Pushing his fingers in and out of you with an iron grip on his wrist, proving Armin’s predictions about never being able to truly give him full control more true by the second. “See how you do it? Back and forth motions, just like— hey, curl those fingers, would you?”
Armin curls them right away. His fingertips make contact with a spot that’s of a slightly different texture than the rest of your soft, slick walls. Out of curiosity, he presses harder against that spot.
“Just keep— a-ahhn-!”
Did he just...did he just make you moan for him!? Did he do it? Oh my god, this is--! Why do you look so pissed?
“Dipshit! Wait until I give you instructions, ‘kay?”
Outwardly, Armin nods obediently, apologizing for his haste. Inwardly, he’s storing the information he’s just stumbled upon in a file deep in his brain — The location of that spot inside you. Your reaction. God, your reaction.
“Just keep moving and curling your fingers...yeah, like that.” Your hand leaves Armin’s, leaving the rest up to him now that he has an idea of where he’s supposed to go. Your freed hands lay to rest by your head as you let out a sigh through your nostrils. If Armin hadn’t seen the way your eyelids fluttered closed, he would have thought that was a noise of irritation. But the look on your face is a clear giveaway that you’re enjoying yourself. You’re savoring every stroke of Armin’s fingertips to that spot inside you, now that you’re not caught off guard by it. You’re so relaxed, in fact, that you give Armin his next order with your eyes still closed. “Now, take your thumb...And circle it over my clit.”
Armin’s motions falter. “Y-Your…?”
“My god.” you crack your eyes open. “The little bead looking thing above my entrance. See it?”
Oh. He does. He didn’t before, but after a few minutes of his ministrations and your pussy becoming increasingly wetter and more tender, your clit has poked out from underneath the hood of skin that’s been keeping it hidden. Circles with his thumb...he can do that. Armin tentatively pushes his thumb against the bead and swirls, but the motion feels off. Restricted. Like he needs something slippery to make it easier. His eyes flick down to where his fingers are penetrating you, curled, of course, and coming back out coated in slick. Perfect, he concludes. Like the little problem solver Armin is, he dips his thumb inside you for a moment, gathering a sufficient amount of pre before returning to your clit, which he slathers with the natural lubricant before tracing in circles once more. This time, with more ease. His chest fills with pride having figured something out without your assistance.
“That’s it,” you praise with a delighted sigh, and Armin thinks his heart is about to burst. “But don’t get too cocky, this is just the beginning.”
He should have taken your advice to heart, but it’s hard not to build himself up on a platform of pride. It's so hard not to feel like he’s in heaven when you praise him, even just for a moment, for doing a good job. But, just as you promised, that pride dissipates as soon as Armin’s hand starts to cramp. That platform crumbles when the pain starts preventing Armin from effectively circling his thumb while his index and middle fingers are still at work. He falls from that heaven when he looks up at you in a panic, watching your brows crease in displeasure. He starts to get frustrated, frantically trying to move faster in hopes that he can just work past the pain. Until you grab his wrist, halting all movements.
“Hey, hey! Nothing’s gonna work if you just spazz out like that. Your hand’s getting tired, huh?”
“Yeah...I’m sorry,” Armin admits, head hanging low in defeat.
You roll your eyes. “Don’t be sorry, just use your tongue.” You poke your own tongue out of your mouth, wiggling it around in the air with a quirk to your lips. “Little flicks to my clit. Some sucking on it…you can do that, can’t you?”
“Yes! I can. I can do that, um—“ Armin scoots down the bed until his mouth is level with your sex. He retracts his hand for a moment to shake it out, easing some of the pain. “So, I just…” he brings his face closer, inching his tongue from his mouth until the flat licks a stripe across your clit. Your leg seems to jolt from the action, and Armin is suddenly rearing to go.
“Yeah, you jus— h-holy motherfucking—!”
Out of nowhere, like a fucking leech, Armin latches into your clit and sucks — both your sensitive skin and the breath from your lungs.
“God, such an eager little slut-! So ready to please me, aren’t you?”
Armin can’t nod whilst your thighs are trapping his head, pulling him in further (not that he is at all complaining). He can’t so much as move his head at all, so he relies on his voice, a desperate hum of affirmation, to communicate his thoughts. Those thoughts, however, are devolving into madness — a consequence of his senses being taken over by your pussy. It’s all he can see, the close up of your flesh and over your heaving stomach he can catch the occasional glimpse of your twisting expression. It’s all he can feel, his fingers still at work inside of you, disobeying your orders and pressing at the spongy little spot inside of you that pulled the most intoxicating of sounds from you before. It’s all he can hear, the squelching of pre when he pushes his fingers into you, when he scissors you open, when he sucks on your clit again. It’s all he can smell and taste, the two senses working together, combining the scent of your oozing arousal and the taste of your pretty clit as Armin’s tongue rolls it in circles. God, it’s just all he’s ever wanted. Something he’s fantasized about doing since before you mentioned it today, before you even gave him any sort of attention at all. No, he’s been thinking about pleasuring you for ages.
Since he saw you in the hallway, ramming a kid headfirst into some lockers. Even then he felt a twinge of arousal warm his tummy, trailing down his abdomen. How did he manage to deny his attraction to you for so long?
Either way, he’s here now. Drowning. Drowning not from a water bottle’s endless stream, but from you. Your juices lathered on his tongue, making it oh so easy to swirl your clit around, to lick up your lips, to get high off it all. Armin starts to think that your slick is drugged somehow, because never in his pathetic little life did he ever think sex like this was something that could be so addicting. Yes, he finds so much pleasure in your torture of him. More than he can ever comprehend. But there’s something so amazing about the fact that Armin is pleasing you right now. He’s paying you back for everything you’ve done for him. He has you on your back, screeching and clawing at his hair with fingers like talons, all because of his fingers and tongue. Yet somehow you’re still on top of it all. He knows he is being done a favor (ironically that favor is doing you a favor). He knows you’re the only one who could ever have control of him even while his head is buried in between your thighs. He knows this won’t last. But that’s why he’s licking you up feverishly. That’s why he’s completely ignoring the ache in his jaw, the cramp in his wrist. Never again will he let his own pain keep him from pleasuring you like there’s no fucking tomorrow.
“Arminnnnn-! Q-quit it you little— gHNN-! W-whore! You fucking whore, I already came-!”
Oh? You did? Armin supposes that was what all the bucking of your hips and the pounding of your heels against his back meant. That explains the sudden gush of juices Armin was too busy drinking to even notice. But how on earth was he supposed to stop when you just tasted and felt so good? How is he supposed to stop right now, even when you’re demanding him to do so, when Armin hasn’t finished delighting in your gooey, tender pussy?
He merely looks up at you through a haze clouding his eyes like fog. His lashes flutter against your skin, causing a smile to crack on your lips against your will. Mixed in with your growing anger, it looks terrifying.
“Armin…I’m giving you…until the count of—nGH-! Three!” You threaten. And Armin almost gives in. He almost obeys you like he usually does, and he wants to. But it’s just when he’s about to tear his lips from you that he feels it — the pulsing sensation down in his lower stomach. That familiar feeling of an impending orgasm. He felt it while eavesdropping on you in the library and he feels it now, only this time he’s about to cum completely untouched. He’s about to cum just from eating you out like a fucking dirty animal. And if he wants to, he’s going to have to ignore your orders. He’s going to have to let your pants and growls and begs for a break that are disguised as insults and threats fall on deaf ears. “One…t-two…”
He’s so close now. With your counting his orgasm only hurdles toward him further and further, your tone of authority along with the fingers digging into his scalp doing nothing but making him all the more desperate for a release. And a release is just what he gets.
He shoves his face so deep in your pussy as he cums, making sure that you’re still the only thing he can sense while spurting his load in his pants. When you look down between your legs you can see his eyes roll into the back of his head. You can feel the harsh vibrations of his muffled moans torturing your tired, overstimulated clit. You can feel as those damned fingers scrape against that spot inside you that drives you absolutely wild. You think you might just cum again, but before that thought can become a reality, Armin’s fingers and tongue halt all motions and he faceplants into the mattress, looking absolutely worn out.
You aren’t in much of a better state, you realize, but at least you have the energy to lift your top half up by your elbows, gazing down at Armin like he’s nothing but the scum of the earth.
“Tired now…are we?” You pant through gritted teeth. “So much energy put into disobeying me…you poor, poor thing.”
Hand still buried in his hair, your fingers clamp down in a vice-like grip and lift his head from the mattress. Around his mouth is a shiny layer of all your slick, some making it quite far up his cheeks while some had drizzled down his neck. His eyes are half lidded, appearing as if he’s only half there. And he just might be, because your question (albeit rhetorical) goes unacknowledged. He looks like a mere shell of a boy, despite the dreamy smile weakly tugging the corners of his lips.
“Hey! You gonna answer me or are you too pussy drunk?”
“Nnnn-ahh~! F-felt so good…!” You can’t tell if that’s drool or your juices dripping from the corner of his mouth. “Almost…couldn’t breathe ag- again-!”
“Awww, yeah?” You coo, pushing out your bottom lip. “How’d you feel if you couldn’t breathe at all?”
Armin’s brow twitches in confusion but before he can muster up any sort of speech you’re tugging his head backwards by his hair. His vision spins when the back of his head collides with the mattress, your figure leering atop him reduced to a splotch in the vague shape of a person. But he can still feel every sensation. He can still feel your hand tear itself from his hair, taking a few strands with you as you move down to grip at his throat.
“And let’s see here—“ you dip your head down, inspecting the light wet patch in Armin’s jeans. “You came? Untouched? Well, I guess I was wrong about you touching yourself while giving oral. Sensitive thing, you didn’t even have to lay a finger on yourself!”
“I’m sorry…! I-I’m so, so sorry!”
“Don’t worry about it. Don’t be sorry.” Armin doesn’t know why he believes you. Perhaps it’s the haze. The dreamlike nature of the world around him right after such a physically intense collection of sensations. But he lets his guard down. He doesn’t even flinch when he feels you shifting around on top of him. His bones are too heavy, muscles too weak to pick himself up when he notices your hands now working his fly. That’s why it feels like one hell of a wake up call when your hands find themselves stroking his soft cock back to life. Armin’s soul just about leaves his body, sparks of pain zipping through his veins. “Don’t be sorry at all…just lay there and take it.”
“Hhaahhh-! W-w-wait-! You don’t— oh my god!” Your insides feel just as warm as when Armin was fingering you, if not more so, as you sink yourself down onto Armin’s poor, overstimulated dick. “F-fuck! Fuck! Um! I don’t know if I can-! Take your p-p…pussy-! On my…!”
You merely howl with laughter as his stuttered excuses. “Did you just struggle saying the word ‘pussy’? Armin, baby, for a filthy whore, you’ve really gotta work on expanding your vocabulary.”
Unfortunately, it’s a little difficult for Armin to work on vocabulary when all that’s able to come out of his mouth are sentence fragments and strange, whiny noises. And it gets worse when you start to move. Up and down, up and down. Like the merry go round at the fair, those little horses bobbing high and low.
His shaky hands come to grip at your thighs, trying his best to hold you still or at least slow you down. But you are not one to be held back. Your pussy lips continue slapping messily against Armin’s base, creating a sound that Armin thinks could rival even the worst of sins. Even so, he can’t help but peer down at the source of it, blushing immediately as he does so. The image of himself impaling you, thrusting in deep and coming out all slick and shiny is burned into his brain. He’s certain he will remember this image for his entire life. Oh god…what if he remembers it in the middle of class!? And gets a boner!? And…
Eh. He’s already this deep (literally). Who really cares?
“It hurts…” Armin squeaks. You giggle, reminded of a cute little mouse.
“You like it.”
“I do! I really do! And I want you to keep fucking me!”
“Don’t have to tell me twice, love.”
Before Armin can even question the pet name, you’re riding him into fucking space.
With lungs drained of air, a head of sprawled, knotted hair, and hips bucking as fast as a hare, Armin releases for the second time that afternoon. The last thing he sees before his eyelids close is your face, hovering above his with something akin to…yes, that’s a smile stretching across your face.
…
Armin isn’t quite sure whether he slept for an hour or ten. All he knows is that it is dark as soon as he wakes up, nothing to greet him when he opens his eyes but a pitch black room. Eventually he gathers the strength to heave his top half up and wriggle around to face the nightstand where softly glowing numbers on your alarm clock read out “8:05 PM”.
So, he didn’t sleep the whole night away, Armin determines. It’s only been a few hours since…
He swings his legs out of bed and places his feet on the cold floor. Judging by the faint sounds from downstairs, you’re still in the house, most likely in the kitchen. Sure enough, his predictions are correct.
You’re standing by a pot on the stove, leaning against the counter with your phone in your hand when Armin enters the kitchen. There’s a box of macaroni sitting next to you, so Armin infers that you’re making dinner. Your eyes meet his for a second, but soon after they dive back down to your phone. “Sleeping beauty’s finally awoken.”
“Ah…y-yeah.” Armin’s voice is still a bit groggy. “Why did you let me sleep?”
“Tch! Don’t treat it like it’s some heroic act. You were like a cinderblock! It was hard enough trying to get you under the covers.”
Oh. So you’re the reason he was under the sheets when he woke up. In all honesty, Armin had figured he had awoken halfway through his slumber and got in your bed himself, then went back to sleep with no recollection. It wouldn’t have been the first time exhaustion caused a certain moment in time to completely fade from his memory. But no. It was you.
“Plus, you had the dorkiest look on your face, it would have been a waste to wake you up and ruin it. Don’t worry, I got pictures~” you wave your phone around in the air. But Armin is oddly silent. Irritated with his lack of response, you shut your phone off and snap your fingers in an effort to get his attention. “Hey! Why the hell are you ignoring me?”
“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I just…well, I was wondering how to ask you if maybe I could…m-maybe I could come over again. And, another time after that. And we could…we could keep…y’know.”
You snort. “Fucking?” You push yourself off of the counter, taking amusement in the pouty expression on Armin’s face as you get closer. Soon you’re close enough to that pouty face where you can feel Armin’s breath when he says his next words.
“Yes…fucking. I’m…I’m done pretending like I don’t want it. Like I don’t want you to hurt me like you do every day of my life.”
“Are you, now?” You challenge, and your fingers come to squeeze at Armin’s chin, pulling his head up to look directly into your eyes. “You want to graduate from a regular whore to my little whore, hm?”
Armin exhales breathlessly, “Yes…”
Because who cares about anything else? Who cares about college, when he can be your pet on a leash? Who gives a damn about a job? His job is being at your mercy, your beck and call whenever you’re in need of a punching bag.
Armin knows it’s terrible. He knows he shouldn’t feel this way but if tonight has taught him anything it’s to stop listening to Mikasa, to the conscience banging on his skull like it’s trying to knock some sense into him, to anything that isn’t your commanding voice.
“I’ll do anything…please hurt me more.”
