sienna

[co-psycho]

Armin Arlert twitter links

a/n: enjoy!!

Don’t forget to leave request :)

Riding then jerking him off

Armin eating you out

Armin praising your body

Dry humping

Pumping himself in your pussy

Sitting on his face

Jerking him off as he becomes a moaning mess

Rough pussy eating

Armin trying to gain your attention

Dry humping pt 2

Face fucking

Armin teasing you with his fingers

Squirting on his fingers

Rough cream pie

Playing with your clit, while fucking you

Slow passionate sex

[suzayaaa]

Omggg I just read your post ೃ⁀➷ SCARS & KITTENS ☆.｡.:* and it's just beautiful pleaseee make more scenarios of Saku and crush bestfriend, this made my heart race 😽😽 hope you read this ⸜( •⌄• )⸝

ೃ⁀➷ CAN WE MATCH? ☆.｡.:*

Sakuya realizes you and him might match in more ways than just keychains.

PAIRING . . . nct wish sakuya x fem!reader WORD COUNT . . . 4.0k CONTENT . . . best friends crushing on each other, fluff, mutual pining, yearning, teasing, saku's lowkey down bad SUZA'S NOTE . . . errr so i’m not sure if this was a request or not but here u go anon 😁😁 tysm for liking scars and kittens!! working on THIS little monster put me in a writer's block as great as the wall of china. genuinely, it’s been a looong while since i struggled like i did writing this 😭😭 and i wanted to post this on saku’s bday but i didn’t wanna wait. hope u enjoy!! :) TAGLIST . . . @gyubvlin

masterlist

On a Saturday morning, Sakuya sends you a text saying to meet him at Hongdae station later in the day.

It’s a sunny mid-afternoon when you get on the subway. The weather has gotten colder and it’s finally time to switch your summer clothes for a bit warmer wardrobe, so to celebrate that, you put more effort into your look today.

This, and because you haven’t seen Sakuya for more than one week.

It’s not a long time in the grand scheme of things, but you are used to meeting Sakuya nearly every day. It’s been weird to see him cancel every hang out this week, but since the exam season is coming up, you assumed that he’s been busy studying and didn’t think further. You smile at the thought of seeing him again—after all, you’ve kind of missed him this week.

You notice Sakuya almost immediately after you get out of the train. His shoulder is pressed against a white pillar and he’s playing on his phone, head hung low. You watch him for a moment with a light frown. Something is off. It’s obviously Sakuya you’re looking at—you know your best friend when you see him—but his backpack or his keychains are nowhere to be seen. He never goes anywhere without his backpack, and he wouldn’t detach the keychains either, so what’s going on?

You walk up to him with a suspicious look.

Sakuya’s head lifts and he waves at you with a full smile. “Hi.”

Murmuring a reply, you eye him with crossed arms. “Where are your keychains? Or your backpack?”

“I’m glad to see you too,” he says in a flat tone. “I got a new bag.”

Sakuya grabs the thick strap passing through his chest and pulls it. A bag swings from his back to the front and he lifts it and shows it off like a trophy. It’s a plain, black leather bag with two shoulder straps, a few silver metal details, and a tiny matching pouch attached to it. It’s stylish and very simple—nothing like something Sakuya would wear.

You stare at the bag with pure confusion in your eyes, and resting your hand over your mouth, you mutter after a few seconds of silence, “Saku, what is that?”

“What do you mean?” He stares blankly.

His hands drop the bag and it falls to his side again. Your eyes follow the movement.

“I mean your bag.”

His stare on you is a mix of confusion and nothingness. His eyes dart to the side for a moment, then back at you. “Yeah, it’s a bag. You just said so.”

“Yes, Saku, I know it’s a bag.” You roll your eyes. “What I mean is, why, I… Where are your keychains?”

Sakuya’s mouth corners twitch upwards a little. “I bought the bag this week. I didn’t have time to decorate it. Oh, and I’m starting a new keychain collection.”

You remain as frozen as you were, looking between Sakuya’s amused face and his plain bag with mouth slightly open. Sakuya chuckles. He places his hand between your shoulderblades and pushes you to walk.

“Let’s go,” he says. “I’ll explain on our way.”

You follow Sakuya around the streets of Hongdae, hands in your pockets, occasionally bumping your elbow into his. As you walk, he tells you everything about his week, then about his day, and about something else you can’t really focus on. Your eyes are glued to his bag, hanging off his shoulder and separating your bodies. It just doesn’t make sense. Sakuya wouldn’t buy a bag like this for himself, never in his life. You know him too well to know that. Honestly, the bag is not ugly, it’s just the style that you would see on—

“Hey!” Your train of thought is broken as Sakuya flicks your forehead with perfect aim. “It hurts…”

“Sorry.” He doesn’t look apologetic at all. “You weren’t listening.”

“Yeah, I can’t focus! Seeing this… Why did you buy a new one anyway?”

With a sigh, Sakuya explains.

His previous bag, the black backpack, had its shoulder straps stretched so long from the weight of fifty-something keychains that it became impossible to wear it comfortably. Not just that, but Sakuya’s habit of wearing the backpack on only one shoulder made the straps uneven, even if regulated to be the same length, which only made the problem worse.

Sakuya wasn’t bothered by it, though. It was his mother, whom he video-called on Monday, that saw the state of his backpack and scolded Sakuya for wearing a bag in such a strained condition. He went shopping after she sent him money and bought a new one.

The new bag is more versatile and better quality. The old keychains are fine, but it would be a hassle to move all of them from the old bag to the new one. He’s going to collect keychains anyway, so he might as well start a new collection.

Taking a slow inhale, you nod at Sakuya’s words. “Still, you could’ve attached at least one. Or just do something with it instead of leaving it plain.”

“I told you I didn’t have time.”

“One keychain! It would take two seconds.”

Sakuya shakes his head. “No. New bag, new keychains.”

“Alright,” you say. “It just feels weird. Even now, when we walk, doesn’t the silence bother you? There’s nothing jingling, no keychains accidentally brushing my legs… It’s so weird.”

“I didn’t notice,” he says, running his hand through his hair.

Your eyes narrow on him. His ears are completely red, and he’s looking away from you, as if to avoid showing you his face. You want to ask what’s wrong, but feel like it’s better to leave this unquestioned. You stare at him a little bit longer until your own ears grow pink. Biting back a smile, you shake your head and look ahead.

“Whatever. We have to buy you some keychains today.”

Perhaps it’s because it’s a Saturday afternoon, or because the weather is good for the first time in days, the market is more crowded than usual. You and Sakuya have been doing a pretty good job avoiding bumping shoulders with people, but there are a few times where you get separated.

At some point, you wrap your fingers around Sakuya’s wrist and let him lead you through the busy crowd. Sakuya is glad for walking ahead. This way, you can’t see the blush on his face and his brain malfunction painting itself very clear on his features.

Why is he so nervous today? Sakuya doesn’t understand. Licking his lips over and over again in attempts to calm down, he focuses on walking. An idea lingers in the back of his head to slip his hand into yours, but it becomes no more than an idea.

After you pass the food section, you finally reach the shops with everything and nothing in particular to offer. This part of the market is less crowded, too, so you can walk more comfortably.

Usually, the reality is that Sakuya drags you from store to store with coin-like eyes and you follow him around like a tired puppy. The roles are reversed today; with a hand still around his wrist, you lead Sakuya around the market, eyeing every accessory each shop has to offer with twinkling eyes and a smile so bright it melts Sakuya’s heart. He follows you without any complaints, mostly. As time passes, you grow more and more distracted by everything, and Sakuya starts to grow impatient.

“Let’s go over there.” He taps your arm and points to a certain shop.

It’s a shop near the one you’re currently in. There doesn’t seem to be any customers in it, but what caught Sakuya’s attention is a keychain display and a really cool toy sword he wants to check out.

You vaguely look towards the direction of the shop. “Alright, just a minute.”

A minute passes and you’re still in the same spot: checking out hair accessories, completely ignoring Sakuya’s foot tapping against yours.

He watches you examine each accessory, put them together and set them apart, as if you were going to give them a very meticulous review. Your lips are slightly pouted and your eyes are narrowed, and although Sakuya finds you really cute right now, he also wants to leave already.

“Can we go?”

“Yeah, one more second.”

Sakuya sighs. “We still haven’t bought anything, you know.”

You hum. “How are we supposed to buy something if everything is cute?” You put the glittery strawberry hairpin that’s in your hand to Sakuya’s hair, angling it left and right. “Cute.”

Sakuya gently takes the hairpin from your hand and puts it back on the display. His slender fingers brush yours as he does so, and butterflies bloom in his chest.

“We have to buy at least one keychain, you said it yourself. And I’m starting to get hungry,” he says. His hand lands on your shoulder as he leads you out of the store.

“We’ve seen like thirty keychains already. Couldn’t you buy any of them?”

“We’ve seen like thirty hairpins already, couldn’t you buy any of them?” Sakuya mimics your voice. The action earns him a glare from you, but you look so cute he can’t help but laugh. “I can’t have random keychains in my collection. That’s not it. They shall all be bought with purpose.”

“Whatever.”

The word comes out of your lips with a sigh, and you walk ahead with crossed arms. A grin involuntarily welcomes itself on Sakuya’s face. He catches up to you quickly, standing in front of you to block your path. When you try to bypass him, he blocks you again. You roll your eyes and click your tongue.

“What? What’s wrong?” He asks, staring at you with a stupid smile that reaches his crinkling eyes.

“Nothing,” you mutter as you turn your head to the side.

Sakuya quickly pulls out his phone from his pocket and snaps a photo of you. You whip your head back to him at the shutter sound and reach for his phone in frantic moves.

“Hey! Delete it! I didn’t consent!!”

Sakuya swiftly avoids your attempts at stealing his phone as you fight him with all your might, yelling different phrases at him. He giggles like a little girl, occasionally yelping when you almost grab his hand. Ultimately, he puts his arm high up in the air and you nearly climb him trying to reach the phone.

“Delete it, Saku!”

He starts to laugh like an evil cartoon character right in your face. “Who can’t reach it?” Who can’t reach it?” He repeats between the laughter.

He goes on like this for a few more seconds until you lean in and touch Sakuya’s nose with your tongue.

His whole body freezes. His face, down to his neck, is burning hot. What did you just do? This was intentional, right? No? Why would you do this? Sakuya feels like his brain is short-circuiting. He doesn’t realize that his arm dropped down and you snatched the phone out of his grip. He touches his nose with his index finger, then stares at it and blinks profusely.

You put your face close to his, and mimicking his evil laugh, you say, “Who’s a loser now? Huh?”

He stares at your face, a breath away from his, with parted lips, and he thinks his knees are going to give out. He’s trying his best to calm his racing heart. He has to use all the power in the world not to look at your lips right now. He forces himself to move away and let out a chuckle, praying it sounds natural, and when he sees your satisfied smile, he thinks you don’t know what you just put him through.

“Still you,” he manages to say.

You keep on walking, but Sakuya is absent-minded. His face is still burning, and the autumn air has nothing on the hot blood coursing through his veins.

Do you have any idea what you just did to him?

At some point, instead of entering the shops, you and Sakuya stroll around the market and sight-shop from afar. The conversation has died down, so you’re walking side by side, listening to the shop owners yelling their marketing phrases and the bustling noise of the crowd. You stare at your and Sakuya’s feet, trying to match the steps to his every now and then, but ultimately give up as it feels unnatural. You twirl the cherry-flavored lollipop in your fingers—the only thing you and Sakuya bought today—and take a slow breath.

“Let’s split,” Sakuya says with a lollipop in his mouth. His teeth clash against the sugar as he does so.

“Why? Do you want to go home?”

“No, no. That’s not what I meant.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I have an idea.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Let’s split for… thirty minutes, let’s say. Each of us will buy something, and after time’s up, we’ll meet again.”

You tap the lollipop against your lower lip. “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of shopping together?”

“We’ve been shopping together for over two hours. Did we buy anything?”

“Fair point.” You nod, and after a moment of silence, you say, “So, thirty minutes? And we just buy whatever we want.”

“Yeah.”

“But do we buy something for each other or…?”

“Whatever you want,” Sakuya shrugs. “We have to buy at least one thing, though.”

“No matter what?”

“No matter what.”

You and Sakuya stop walking and face each other. You smile. “Alright,” you say, “Who sets the timer?”

“I will,” he says, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He points to his right with a wide grin, where his feet are already dragging him. “I’m going this way!” He beams.

“I’m not!” You laugh, walking away to the left.

Before you disappear from each other’s sight, you both turn around and give each other bright smiles.

Once he’s left alone, Sakuya finally feels like he can breathe in peace.

He suggested separating because he wants to buy a keychain, yes, but the truth and something he would never admit out loud is that he needs a break from you.

He can’t stop thinking about the… incident, or whatever it was when you pretty much licked his nose earlier. The sight of your face so close to his that he could count your eyelashes is still in front of his eyes and doesn’t seem to be going away any time soon. And you did this just to get his phone and delete a picture. This isn’t best friend behavior, is it? The picture probably looked good anyway.

If Sakuya’s honest with himself, those kind of thoughts have been bothering him for a while. Everything you’ve been doing, even the simplest things like hugging him or sharing your food, does not feel very best friend behavior to Sakuya anymore. He knows nothing has changed about the way you act and it’s just his mind doing weird things, but it’s been driving him crazy for weeks.

He thought if you saw each other less often, those lingering thoughts would eventually go away and everything would be normal again, so he canceled all hangouts with you this week. He was lucky that you assumed he was busy studying and didn’t question him. But luck didn’t help that much, because his thoughts and feelings remained unchanged, and on top of that, he started to miss you.

Still, in his mind, he thanks himself for coming up with the idea of splitting up, even if it’s just for thirty minutes. At least he doesn’t have to worry about looking like a burning tomato.

Now without you, Sakuya revisits every market you’ve been to that he thinks has nice items. He walks from shop to shop, checking out every keychain and charm with sharp eyes, but it is not until the fifth store he walks into that something looks worth buying.

The store is the same one where you saw the strawberry hairpin. There’s a small display rack of keychains and other bag charms near the counter. Sakuya walks up to it with glistening eyes. The keychains all seem to be from the same collection, as they all have the same pastel color palette and similar design style.

One particular keychain grabs Sakuya’s attention. It’s a fluffy heart in pink and red tones that has a winking face sewn on it. It’s a decent size, too, as it nearly fits into Sakuya’s full hand when he takes it off the display. Sakuya smiles. Somehow, the face on the keychain reminds him of you.

Although he’s ready to go to the checkout, he walks around the store a little more. Without thinking much, he picks up a few more items, including the glitter strawberry hairpin.

Just as Sakuya’s timer goes off, his phone rings in his pocket.

“Hey, are you done?” Your voice beams through the speaker when he picks up.

After he bought the items from that one shop, he didn’t look for anything else. He’s been walking aimlessly for quite a few minutes now, wondering if you bought anything.

“I am,” he says. “Where are you?”

“Actually, I found this really nice cafe, it’s just right around the corner if you leave the market. I’m already inside. And I ordered drinks!”

Hearing your voice is enough for Sakuya to know that you’re smiling. His mouth corners also lift a bit.

“I’m coming.”

“I’ll send you my location.”

There is nothing special about the cafe’s interior. It’s about the same color palette of beiges and browns as any regular cafe in Seoul, but Sakuya guesses that the modesty of the place is what made you come here. It’s right by the street market, like you said, and it’s small enough to hear some of the noise from the outside. Except you, there are only two or three other customers.

You’re sitting at the table by the window. Your hands are neatly folded in your lap and you’re already staring at Sakuya with a small smile, glancing down at the two drinks in front of you.

“Did you wait long?” Sakuya asks after he sits down opposite you.

“No, it’s fine,” you say. “You were right, you know. The moment we separated I actually bought some things. I think I was done after, like, fifteen minutes.”

The conversation between you and Sakuya goes on as you’re sipping your drinks. Yours in an iced americano and Sakuya has brown sugar milk tea.

Sakuya stares at you this whole time. He watches your sparkling eyes and lips moving with a smile as you tell him about what happened when you were shopping alone, and he can’t help but think about how pretty you are.

“You look nice,” he blurts out, almost matter-of-factly.

His fingers play with the straw of his drink, bending and folding it to his liking. His eyes stay focused on the different shapes the straw takes, but he can see your flustered face from his peripheral, and it makes him bend the straw harder.

“You dressed up more than usual,” he adds as an afterthought.

“Oh.” Your voice is a little shaky, softer than before. “Yeah, I did. Thanks.” You pause for a few seconds. “I didn’t think you’d notice.”

A strange kind of silence falls between you that Sakuya has never felt before. It’s nowhere near awkward, but it’s not entirely comfortable either, at least not in the usual way. It almost makes him regret complimenting you. Sakuya feels as if a spell has been cast, and if any of you speaks up, a bubble will burst and something meaningful will be lost forever.

The small moment is so loud in Sakuya’s head that a thought inherently forms in his head: is this what it would be like if you were dating?

Stop. What kind of thought is that? He freezes in his seat, like a deer caught in the headlights. His eyes, wide and scared as if afraid you could hear his thoughts, shift from the straw between his fingers to your face. You’re staring at him. A blush that’s definitely not makeup covers your cheeks and there’s a look in your eyes that carries a sort of hesitancy about something.

Sakuya bites his lip. Obviously, you can’t read his mind, so what’s with that look? Tugging at his hair, he forces himself to break the spell. He clears his throat and asks, “Should we see what we bought?”

Your face goes back to its usual brightness with a blink. “Oh, yeah! Should I go first or do we do it together?” you say, already placing your bag on your lap and rummaging in it.

“Go first.”

“Alright. Okay, so I did buy myself a few things…”

Sakuya isn’t really paying attention to anything you’re saying. He sits on the chair, leaned back, watching you show him the items you bought, but everything you say and do seems to float around his head rather than enter his brain. He can’t focus. He stares at your face, your frame, your smile, as the lingering what ifs in his head come and go.

“Oh, and I got you something, too.”

Sakuya straightens on his seat with a hum.

“Since I really can’t stand to see you walk around with a naked bag…”

Sakuya lets out a surprised sound at the item you put on the table. It’s a heart-shaped keychain, pink and fluffy, with a winking face—the same keychain Sakuya has bought for himself.

He breaks out into a teeth-tight grin as air leaves his lips. “Tssk, no way.”

“What? Do you like it?”

Sakuya grabs his bag and places his keychain on the table, right next to yours. “We bought the same one!”

You gasp with excitement and take the keychains into your hands, wiggling them around. “No way!” You laugh.

“This was the best one out of all of them,” Sakuya says as he points at the charms in your hands.

“I know, right? It’s so cute, I loved it too.” Your smile softly fades. “It’s kind of a bummer, though? You probably don’t want two identical keychains.”

Sakuya’s eyes move between your face and the keychains. He hums. “One is yours, so...”

You look at him in a shy manner. “You want to match?”

“If you want to.”

Silence falls upon you once more. You observe the keychains in your hands with your lower lip between your teeth, as if pondering if you really want one. Sakuya squeezes his hands resting in his lap in anticipation. The words take it repeat in his head. At this point, he ignores the strange rhythm of his heartbeat beating in his chest.

You put one keychain back on the table and wordlessly attach the other one to your bag. Once you’re done, you pet the keychain, lift your bag, and show it off to Sakuya with the cutest smile he’s ever seen.

Letting out an excited yelp, Sakuya grabs the keychain from the table and attaches it to his own bag. “Ha!”

“Wait, this is so cute!” You laugh. “We’re actually matching. Our bags are kind of similar, too!”

You begin to point out the similarities between your bags, and Sakuya goes quiet once again. He doesn’t tell you that the reason he bought this particular bag is because it subtly matches yours, and he doesn’t mention that the bag is a bigger size than his previous one so you can comfortably put your things in it, like you always do.

He looks at your beaming face again, then at the matching keychains, and he can’t contain the grin dancing on his lips. His chest blooms with warmth and his stomach feels like it’s about to do a backflip. Even gripping the material of his pants does not make the butterflies go away. He sinks into the mix of excitement and embarrassment, and strangely, Sakuya lets himself accept the feeling.

The questions from earlier reappear in his head, but somehow, they don’t sound as scary anymore. His eyes soften on your frame. After all, you and Sakuya could be a good match.

divider by @dollywons © 2025 suzayaaa. do not steal, copy, or translate my works.

[ackerink]

UNBEKNOWNST TO YOU

levi ackerman × titan shifter!reader

PAIN IS THE BEST WAY TO DISCIPLINE

your mere inheritance was to maintain the highest authority in marley, preserving stability, keeping up an image — but a woman can soon grow tired of the lying and deceitful nature of it all. managing to escape thanks to boarding a ship scouting the island of devils; disguising yourself as a marleyan soldier you make it to paradis where you plan to sabotage the operation to retake the founding titan.

SERIES MASTERLIST © ACKERINK

starring m ackerman h reiss e smith w tybur l ackerman a leonhart e jinn p ral c springer h zoë a arlert m berner o bozado g schultz s braus j kirschtein n dok h dreyse ymir m freudenburg k ackerman e yaeger r braun nanaba + more

table of contents chapter one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve

content fem!tybur!reader corruption & abuse of authority established relationship (mild) gore physical & verbal abuse canon divergence secret relationship near-death experiences betrayal angst levi calls you 'woman' discrimination against eldians hurt with & without comfort secret identity obsessive behavior on the reader's part

[amywritesthings]

seven days. | part one.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: armin arlert x gn!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 3.9k Summary: Armin gets bamboozled into joining the annual Yeager family beach vacation — and accidentally meets you.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - alternate universe (modern), beach house, summer vacation, eventual romance, alcohol, partying, Armin deserves a romcom, Eren & Zeke have zero braincells Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

part two. | masterlist

“Zeke, you Point Break bitch, did you steal my boogie board?!”

Ah, yes. 

If he was looking for a week of tranquility and peace, then Armin Arlert should have declined the invitation to join the Yeager family for their annual summer vacation.

Time and time again, Eren has begged his best friend to tag along.

As far as he's aware, this has been a family tradition ever since his best friend was a toddler.

One week, the same week, every single year.

Not to mention it's the same beach house merely two blocks away from the boardwalk and sandy shores.

Home away from home.

It’ll be amazing!

(Eren likes to claim.) 

There is so much sick shit we can do!

(His words, not Armin’s.)

You’re gonna sit on your ass and read anyway, so why not do it by a beach?

(...okay, maybe that sold him.)

Then again, nothing is more humbling than standing with your duffle bag in one hand, filled to the brim with ‘maybe’ shirts and ‘just in case’ medicines, and your pillow in another while the Yeager family chaotically dissolves into a panicked army of four battling to even get to said beach in one piece.

Chaos.

It’s their collective middle name.

“Armin, sweetie, do you want any snacks for the road?”

Carla Yeager — doting mother figure and matriarch of the family.

She’s the reason they’re taking two cars this year, too afraid she may forget something important at home.

From fresh tangerines to a plethora of board games, she’s thought of it all.

Shuffling his bag to give his hands some equal soreness — ouch, that's freaking heavy — Armin offers an apologetic smile.

“No, Mrs. Yeager, I’m fine. Thank you.”

“How many times do I need to tell you to call me Carla?” 

Every time, actually.

Although Zeke very easily calls his stepmother by her first name, Armin can't bring himself to do it.

Blah, blah, raised a certain way by his ever-traditional grandfather, blah.

The awkward blonde merely nods once and watches as Carla shuffles by to throw another box of napkins into the trunk.

“Here,” she gestures, waving her arms while she’s in front of the hatchback, “that looks bulky.” 

It is, but he’s a kindred spirit in the name of overpacking.

“I can find a spot for it,” he promises, but relents when the woman gives him that mom look that straightens out her son and stepson. “I— Thank you, Mrs. — Carla.”

Close enough.

He hands her his duffle bag, careful to spot the bottom of it in a sneaky attempt to help her ease his luggage into the first car.

Boom.

The front door bursts open to reveal Zeke and Eren, shoulder to shoulder, frantically fighting to see who can walk out first.

Grunting, Zeke tries to push ahead with his neon-green boogie board against his torso, but Eren manages to dip at the hip and rush down the steps. 

The momentum nearly knocks Zeke’s oval glasses off the bridge of his nose.

“Could you be normal for two seconds?” the blonde groans.

Eren merely answers by sticking his tongue out and holds up a hand, wiggling his thumb and pinkie back and forth. “Fucking loser.”

Carla immediately glares. “Eren, language.”

“Forking, sorry, forking,” Eren corrects with little remorse.

“Seriously?” Zeke laments as he walks by, squinting at his brother. “What are you, ten?”

“Zeke,” a voice chastises softly from the garage. "Be nice to your brother."

Grisha Yeager, father of the year, rolls out a large cooler to bring it towards the second yet-to-be-filled car.

He’s wearing a Margaritavilla button-down, his long hair tied similar to Eren’s. On his forehead is a tie-dye headband.

“We'll be within close quarters of one another for seven whole days," Grisha reminds in that airy tone of his. "We should hold off on the in-fighting until day four at the very least.”

"I'll give it until day three," Zeke mumbles under his breath as he passes by, shoving his boogie board into the first car and smushing Armin's duffle bag down to half its size.

Yeah.

This is what it’s like to vacation with the Yeagers.

Except when your grandfather gets a new girlfriend, and they go to Key West for the summer, you’re stuck without being able to say no to your best friend’s family.

Seven days.

He can handle the Yeagers for seven days.

.

.

— —

.

.

  It took less than three hours for Armin's pale skin to burn like an overcooked egg.

“It’s really not that bad,” chimes in Eren, mouth occupied by the hair tie between his teeth.

Invading his pessimistic mirror space, the taller brunette dips to look at himself while fixing his staple half-up bun hairdo.

The shorter blonde frowns even further as he checks out his tomato-red shoulders, standing shirtless and shoeless in front of him.

“It looks pretty bad, Eren.”

“Nah. Just slap some aloe on it, alright?”

Ruffling sounds behind him.

Glancing over his shoulder in the reflection of the mirror, a bag of potato chips flies into view as Eren carelessly rips it from the cardboard variety pack — courtesy of the emergency snack stash in the corner of the room.

(The emergency snacks are, quote: So that bitch-ass Zeke doesn't steal the goods.)

The sun-kissed boy walks barefoot to the edge of the twin bed and flops down.

Right.

He forgot to mention he’s sharing a room with Eren, which only makes matters forty times worse.

Two twin beds with doily-esque blankets and flat pillows.

Thank god Armin had the sense to pack his own.

“Besides, the alcohol will make it feel better," Eren adds, chewing on a potato chip.

With a noise of defiance, Armin turns from the mirror to stare at his best friend.

“You do realize alcohol dehydrates a person, right?”

“So?”

“So—” Armin protests tightly, “—it’ll make it worse.”

Eren pops another chip in his mouth, shaking his head. 

“Nah.”

Eloquent as always.

Groaning, he slowly — agonizingly — pulls his pastel blue polo over his aching shoulders and breathes out through his nose.

That SPF 50 was supposed to work, but he must have lost track of time binge-reading his first book of the trip.

A spy thriller, actually, that fell flat right around chapter three and nosedived bad just at the cusp of act three.

The wildly out-of-left-field twist made him so mad that he missed his alarm to reapply another coat of sunscreen, and—

Well.

As a result, human lobster is now on the menu tonight.

Regardless, he promised to go out.

It isn't ideal, but a promise is a promise.

About ten or so blocks away from the beach house is the coveted spot known as The Point.

From what he could gather from Google, The Point is a tiki bar boasting high-top bar tables nestled in sand, recreational volleyball courts, and live music all week long.

It’s about the only lively place in this rather family-friendly beach town.

While not technically a dry town, bars are few and far between and there are approximately a whopping zero nighttime entertainment venues, so The Point was about as wild as any college kid stuck on vacation was going to get.

Earlier, Eren spent most of the car ride to the house hyping it up.

Zeke, in surprising fashion, seemed to hold the same sentiment.

(It’s probably the only thing the brothers could agree upon.)

Plus, Zeke apparently had some surfer friends he’d met online that were going on the first night of vacation, so that solidified the night’s plans.

After showering, dressing, and having family dinner with the parents, it's go time.

A little past nine at night, the three boys walk on the sidewalk in a triangle unit, with Armin trailing behind.

Ever a wallflower he keeps quiet, observing carefully as the two brothers figure out their game plan.

Zeke is anti-shots.

Eren wants shots or nothing at all.

“We’re on vacation, why the fuck wouldn’t you do shots?”

“Because,” Zeke explains, “if you start with shots, then you’re setting yourself up for failure.”

“Yeah, if you can’t hold your liquor.”

“Eren, you just turned twenty-one.”

Eren’s nostrils flare. “So?! I had plenty of practice at university!”

“Is he a lightweight, Arlert?”

Wait.

What?

Oh, shit, they’re including him.

“Be honest,” Zeke adds over his shoulder.

Like a deer in headlights, Armin blinks between the brothers. “Uh… sometimes?”

“What?!”

The yell out of his best friend is piercing.

“You goddamn turncoat!”

“You’re not exactly somebody with an iron stomach, Eren,” the blonde reminds softly as if calming a petulant child, only to wince when he's met with a look of pure anger. “But that isn't to say you can't hold a shot down.”

“Or five,” Eren challenges.

“Three at best,” Armin relents.

“Three and a half.”

Armin squints as they turn the corner leading towards the entrance of the bar.

“In what world does half a shot cou—”

“Wait!”

Eren yelps, holding out an arm to stop Zeke in his tracks.

Armin subsequently also stops — as does his wearing patience.

“I have a solution.”

Zeke pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “And what’s that?”

“Look at me, dude.”

The boy with the man bun demands attention, using his pointer and middle finger to gesture between him and his half-brother. 

“You know what I’m thinking. Give it nine seconds.”

Right.

Not ten, because Eren’s favorite number is arbitrarily nine.

Zeke squints with about as much confusion as Armin’s feeling, but Armin knows by now how this is going to go.

Although they’re born with two different mothers, they’re eerily in sync with one another when they want to be extra annoying. 

Some kind of Yeager sixth sense tying them together; they fall silent, staring—

Then the thought strikes.

Like two brain cells clicking together, they simultaneously grin at one another.

“Jagerbombs.”

Great.

So even worse than a shot or a beer.

That’s all it takes for the two to become best buds as they stroll into the tiki bar like they own the place.

The blonde and brunette zero in on an open spot at one of the several pop-up bar locations at this venue—

—leaving Armin in the dust to fumble out his I.D. to the bouncer.

It's nothing new.

Cover charge? Paid.

Hand stamp? Accomplished.

Careful not to get any sand in his sneakers, Armin treads carefully across the uneven landscape towards the same lively bar as his best friend.

Music thumps right into his ribcage. 

Flashing lights threaten to blind him if he so much as looks over his shoulder to the west.

It’s more than he’s used to.

More than he wants, really.

(What happened to the leisure part of vacation again?)

“We got you one!”

Eren.

Blinking back into his body, Armin glances at the shot glass filled to the brim of Jagermeister waggled in his face. Immediately responding with a grimace, he steps back.

“No, I’ll just grab myself a drink, alright? You two enjoy — that.”

“What?” Eren’s frown is immediate. “Seriously? How else are you gonna get wasted with us?”

I’m not, is what he’d like to argue, but he knows Eren by now.

“What do you mean us?” Arnin shouts over the music. “I don’t see Zeke!”

“He got a text from one of his dumbass surfer bros and ditched,” Eren answers, “but to be perfectly honest, I’m thinking of playing the field tonight.”

“The what?”

“The field!”

“Eren, it’s really hard to hear you when they won’t stop mixing Pitbull with ABBA!”

“What?!”

Oh, this is impossible.

He raises his hands to gently push the shot glass towards his best friend’s chest. 

“You take it and show Zeke you can handle it!” Armin calls back at the top of his lungs, his shaggy blonde hair waving in the wind as he nods with encouragement.

That: giving Eren a challenge.

(Works like a charm.)

Determination spreads across his face. Eren nods, hyping himself up for a double-fisted success story. 

Armin simply nods, too, using the chameleon effect to build up Eren’s trust.

(Maybe he shouldn’t be using his psychology notes against his best friend, but desperate times call for desperate measures.)

“Yeah!”

Eren shouts while dropping the shot into the energy drink left perspiring on the bar top.

“I’m gonna!”

“Okay!”

“And then I’m gonna talk to a girl! Or a guy! Or someone!”

Armin’s eyes shoot wide with surprise, but he chooses not to rain on his best friend’s parade because Eren is already chugging the drink, spilling a little of the Jagerbomb down his oversized black tee.

(Good call, wearing dark colors, unlike Armin’s poorly planned pastel.)

Slamming it down on the bar top with a howl of victory, he pats Armin on the arm and trudges forward to the dance floor to do…

Well, that’s between the power of Charli xcx and God.

“Oh, Eren,” Armin mumbles, watching the little man bun bounce in time with the beat of the music until it’s consumed by dancing bodies.

Turning back to the bartenders, the blonde debates.

Agonizes, really.

He doesn’t drink very often.

It’s not really his thing.

But… when on vacation, right?

(Alone, apparently, since Zeke isn’t coming back anytime soon and he’s going to need to deal with dragging Eren’s drunk ass home in the next two hours.)

“Vodka soda, please,” he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.

The bartender behind the counter nods his way before pulling out a plastic cup. 

Within a few seconds the simple alcoholic beverage is concocted, and he leaves a reluctant ten-dollar bill on the sliver of the bar that isn’t covered in condensation or sloshed liquor.

He reaches—

Oh.

That’s not a cup.

Freezing in his place, his blue eyes zero in on a pair of fingers entwined with his, nestled on the very same cup.

He can feel them tense under his own slender digits.

Dread. Pure, existential dread.

Apologize, apologize—

“Shit—”

“I’m so—”

“Sorry!”

A stranger’s voice yelps with his in unison.

Before he can move, their hand rips away from his, leaving his fingers to meet with the cold plastic.

His neck cranes to his left and—

Oh.

Oh, no.

You.

Blinking several times to get his wits about him, he can feel his mouth growing dry.

The way the blinking lights illuminate off of your face completely force his train of thought off the damn tracks.

Flickers of blues, greens, pinks — they compliment your face so nicely as each shade seems to highlight another feature that he hadn’t noticed a second before.

He shouldn’t stare, but he can’t help it: you’re drop dead gorgeous.

“It’s okay,” Armin breathes out after holding his breath for some time. “That was my bad. I didn’t see you.”

Your eyes are just as wide as his. “No! No, it was my fault. I thought that was my drink.”

“What did you order?”

“Uh, a hard seltzer? I think?” you answer, scrunching your nose as you respond.

Mayday.

That’s a type of adorable he is not equipped to handle in his sunburnt state.

“You think?” he repeats with a small chuckle.

You move your head side to side, tilting with an uncommitted air about it.

“It’s bubbling, right? Means I’m on the right carbonated track.”

“Yeah, but don’t hard seltzers usually come in cans?”

“Not always at this place,” you correct, before pushing the cup towards him. “I also kind of panicked when I ordered, so sorry for almost being a drink stealer.”

“Trust me, I know a thing or two about panic ordering,” Armin admits with a huff, taking the cup into his hands.

“Yeah?”

You give a carefree laugh that causes his stomach to give an Olympian-grade somersault.

“Is that why you got a vodka soda?”

“Guilty as charged.”

“We’ve all been there,” you empathize, briefly pouting your lower lip. “I won’t judge.”

He’s not nearly drunk enough to deal with this (see: at all) but that doesn’t mean Armin is going to waste his opportunity.

He may be a wallflower, but he’s equal parts an opportunist.

“So you’ve been here before?” he tries instead, hoping you don’t suddenly snatch your seltzer can and walk away.

You do get your seltzer from the same bartender — a slender aluminum can, nothing fancy — but you don’t walk away.

The opposite: you angle towards him.

Shit, okay.

He can do this.

“My friends love this place,” you tell him over the music. He finds himself leaning closer, angling his chin down, so he can hear you better. “So I just tagged along to make sure no one got black-out drunk or made out with anyone weird.”

“A noble effort,” Armin teases, and your eyes sparkle with amusement. “My friends dragged me here, too.”

“Dragged?” you catch with a growing smirk as you take a sip. “I said I tagged, not dragged.”

“Oh.”

Idiot.

Recover.

“I mean, it wasn't — yeah, no, I was definitely dragged here,” Armin confesses, sipping his vodka soda for some liquid courage.

No use in lying to seem cool.

That facade would crumble like a house of cards.

“Partying at The Point not your scene?” you ask without judgment laced in your tone.

Armin nods. “I could be sitting on the balcony reading right now.”

Your brows slide high with intrigue. "Reading?"

Yeah, he should have expected a reaction like that.

The blonde shuffles, shrugging his shoulders.

"I know, lame."

"I don't think it's lame at all," you answer instantly.

His eyes widen. "I— no?"

"Uh, no," you snort. "If I had a choice, I'd probably be doing the same thing."

Oh, shit.

Oh... shit.

So he's not lame, and he found a possible fellow bookworm.

Armin sips his drink so fast that a little dribbles out the corner of his mouth.

Liquid courage; he needs it, badly.

"If you could be home right now instead of here, what would you be reading?" he decides to ask, knowing it's the most unsexy question he could offer.

You scrunch your nose again, seriously contemplating the question while bobbing your head to the music.

"I brought maybe two books? I should have brought more."

He nods eagerly, his blue eyes round with interest.

"I have a romance that takes place in the summer — I know. Very on the nose," you relent with a small huff. "And, uh, this thriller? But I'm not crazy about it, so I'm mostly reading the romance book on the beach."

"I brought a thriller, too," he admits. "Bounty Run."

"Shut up, you too?"

"Huh?"

You laugh, and it's a melody that makes the music at this venue pale in comparison.

"I literally bought Bounty Run last month and never got around to it until now! It's so bad!"

To whatever deity is smiling upon him today, Armin has to thank them.

Not only has he met someone who likes reading, but they think Bounty Run sucks.

Maybe he's hallucinating from the burn screaming through his polo right now.

"It's really bad," he agrees breathlessly with a chuckle.

"Like dogshit terrible!"

"I know. What the hell was Tracy thinking in chapter six?"

"Oh my god, when she decided to call the hostage guy?"

"Yes!"

"Like, I'm pretty sure that's not how those situations work."

"Not even close."

You both laugh, and all Armin Arlert wants is to know every miniscule thought of yours.

What other books you may have read.

If you have any recommendations.

If you're single.

Nope.

No.

He's not Eren Yeager.

He is not his best friend— 

"Are you from here?" you ask over the music, breaking his panicked train of thought.

Armin swallows more alcohol, shaking his head. "No, we're not locals. We're just vacationing."

"So are we!"

"With your friends?"

"My friend's family," you correct, leaning closer to stop shouting so loudly.

He can feel his blood pressure spike exponentially.

"I'm with my friend's family, too," Armin tells you. "Our shore house for the week is something like ten blocks from here."

“For the week? Which way’s your house?” you ask, before holding up your free hand. “Not in, like, a mega-stalker way.”

“Oh, I didn’t take it that way,” he promises, earnest intent pouring from his mouth. “It’s, uh… wait where are we — oh! That way.”

He swivels and points, like somehow that’ll triangulate where the beach starts.

Your chin turns, noting the direction. “So near the… beach? No fucking way, our house is that way, too, but more like a seven-block walk from here.”

Oh.

No fucking way, indeed.

"Seriously?" Armin asks, voice cracking just a tad.

"Yeah! Do you guys camp out on the beach by third street, too?"

He nods almost too eagerly. "We were just there this afternoon."

"So were we," you confess with a light laugh. "Small world! We were both being subjected to that god-awful book and could've warned each other to pick a less shitty book."

"Well, I brought about a dozen books if you want one to borrow."

Way to go, mouth.

Armin tenses instantly as the words pour from his mouth.

"I... you know, just in case the romance book doesn't work out! Or if you're a fast reader! Or if you—"

"Promise?"

Your question cuts through like a knife.

He is in awe.

Enamored.

He'll give you all of his goddamn books if it means you'll talk to him after tonight.

Suddenly your chin drops, and your free hand fishes for your phone in the back pocket of your jean shorts.

A frown tugs at the corners of your lips, causing the blonde to simply wait.

Stare.

Don't go.

Don't go, don't go, don't— 

"Shit, mayday with my friend."

You sigh as if you were expecting a disaster.

Hell, he's expecting one, too, but he's selfishly forgotten about saving Eren or finding Zeke.

"Are they alright?"

"Yeah, just..." You trail off, typing back a response. "They pre-gamed before we came here to save money. I told them not to, but... best laid plans, right?"

"I could give you my number?" he blurts, and your attention leaves your phone.

Your eyes round with surprise, and he feels immense shame in even offering.

Yet—

"For the books," he adds hastily. Shakily. "To borrow. O-Or if you ever want to just... talk about them."

"For the books," you agree, biting your lip between your teeth. "Yeah, sure, give me your phone."

His cup is empty, but he almost drops it trying to yank his phone out of his pocket.

Armin holds it out to you, unlocking the screen. He watches as you pocket your own phone and take his, typing your number into a new text chat window.

This is happening.

This is seriously, actually happening.

"Here," you offer, handing his phone back. "I put my name in."

He glances down, memorizing your name with newfound vigor.

"Okay, perfect. Oh — my name. My name is Armin."

"Armin?" You repeat. He nods. "I like that name."

Suddenly, he likes it, too.

"See you around?" he asks hopefully.

With a parting smile, you take a slow step backwards.

"...yeah, Armin. See you around."

You look just as sheepish as he feels when you turn on a heel, disappearing into the crowd.

For a moment he stands there, dumbfounded — phone in hand, slack jawed —

Hopeful.

Maybe...

Maybe Armin Arlert won't hate spending seven days at the Yeager shore house after all.

.

author's note:

Thank you SO much for reading part one of my little summer story! I've been dying to write a proper Armin fic for a while now, and a casual, warm vacation setting felt perfect for him. This is meant to be a cozy read, so I hope you enjoy my love letter to my favorite boy. xo

How are we feeling after part one? Let me know in the replies! (And thank you for any reblogs, likes, engagement, etc. Every comment gives this writer wings.)

[tsukiutsutsu]

✦ ━━ PRISON OF ECLIPSE

“one night with no strings…until the cage felt too good to leave.”

host club king!eren⌇vip guest one-shot

eren jaeger x fem!reader

summary：tired of half-hearted lovers and emotional baggage, you use a mysterious vip ticket to book marley’s most exclusive and untouchable host—eren jaeger. after a tense whiskey conversation, eren breaks his rules for one filthy night in a private suite with you.

words : 2.0k

warnings : EXTREMELY EXPLICIT 18+ CONTENT. rough/kinky sex, bdsm (cage, restraints, fucking machine), dirty talk, degradation, roleplay, creampies, cum eating, snowballing, squirting, anal, fisting, overstimulation, and heavy bodily fluids. consensual but extremely nasty.

a/n : i know this is VERY different from my first post and tbh idk what possessed me to write this but the brainrot was real and the vibe was nasty lmao. this is for ppl who want pure filth with a side of tension, i hope you enjoy!

the neon veil of marley clung heavily to the midnight streets as your town car whispered to a halt before eclipse. the club’s crimson letters pulsed like a heartbeat against polished black marble, a fortress of curated fantasy and hidden sins. marleyan host club rules were absolute gospel: hosts provided eloquent conversation, emotional comfort, and attentive companionship for exorbitant hourly rates. most women entered seeking gentle solace—soft affirmations to soothe their loneliness, feather-light touches kept strictly above the waist. the private suites, where real physical hunger could be unleashed, were legendary but rare. eren jaeger, the undisputed king, almost never granted that final key. his career, his reputation, everything hinged on unbreakable professional distance. one client becoming obsessed could shatter it all.

you gripped the vip envelope with fierce determination. mikasa had handed it over with her usual enigmatic smile. this was your rare chance at the oblivion you craved. your body lived in a state of perpetual, aching horniness—restless nights filled with fantasies no ordinary man could fulfill. you wanted raw, degrading, boundary-destroying sex with zero emotional baggage. no relationships. no tomorrow. just pure release.

inside, the lounge breathed quiet luxury. a hostess bowed gracefully, reiterating the house rules. eren waited in the vip alcove. he rose fluidly—tall, powerfully sculpted, dark hair tied back with rebellious strands framing a face of sharp, magnetic beauty. his piercing green eyes locked onto you with measured intensity. a faint micro-twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed the first stirrings of genuine intrigue.

drinks arrived—deep, smoky whiskey poured generously. conversation unfolded slowly, meaningfully, over several glasses. you spoke with unfiltered honesty and sharp intelligence about the paradox of your desires: the deep loneliness that came with wanting intense, physical connection without the weight of romance or dependency, the frustration of partners who either couldn’t match your intensity or tried to tie you down emotionally. your words were confident yet vulnerable, your behavior poised but boldly direct—no simpering, no games.

eren’s inner thoughts churned as he listened, sipping his whiskey. she’s different. not like the others who flutter their lashes and whisper about wanting to be ‘cherished.’ she talks about hunger like it’s a living thing inside her—raw, unashamed. mentally sharp, too. she understands boundaries without me having to spell them out. no desperate clinginess in her eyes. she wants release, the same way i do in secret… but she won’t break and obsess afterwards. physically, fuck—that body is lethal, curves made for sin. but it’s the way she carries herself. confident. greedy. matching. dangerous.

the tension thickened with every exchange and every pour. his gaze lingered longer on your body—the full swell of your breasts, the strong line of your thighs—with visible heat. he shared carefully guarded pieces of his own isolation: the exhaustion of performing perfect fantasy for women who inevitably wanted more, the constant risk that true intimacy could spark obsession and destroy his career. you reassured him with your words and steady gaze—you sought only mutual destruction for one night. something in your honesty, your mental alignment, finally snapped his resistance. his jaw clenched, green eyes darkening.

“fuck it,” he breathed, a rare, wolfish smile breaking through.

“one night. you’ll be my dirty little secret. no one else ever knows.”

he led you upstairs to the soundproofed private suite. eren locked the heavy door with a resonant click.

“safe word is ‘red.’ use it if you need.”

you met his eyes boldly, already peeling off your dress.

“i don’t need it. use every inch of me.”

the sex that followed was an excruciatingly long, escalating symphony of filth that stretched for hours.

it began slow and deliberate, every touch heavy with the tension they had built in the lounge. eren cuffed your wrists behind your back with cool steel and guided you into the cage on your knees.

“new inmate,” he murmured, voice low and rough.

“let’s evaluate how well you take orders.”

he freed his thick, heavy, veined cock, already glistening at the tip. you leaned forward eagerly through the bars, taking him into your mouth with reverent slowness—tongue swirling languidly around the swollen head, savoring the salty, musky taste, moaning softly as you sank deeper, hollowing your cheeks. eren let out a long, low groan, one hand gripping the bars tightly, his face showing restrained ecstasy: brow furrowed in concentration, lips parted, green eyes burning down at you as he watched every movement. he gradually began to thrust, face-fucking you with measured, deepening strokes that grew firmer and faster. your moans vibrated around his girth; thick ropes of saliva soon poured from your stretched lips, dripping messily down your chin and onto your heaving tits. the wet, gagging sounds filled the cage. his grunts deepened into primal rumbles. when he finally came, it was with a guttural roar—powerful, endless thick ropes flooding your throat and mouth, overflowing in creamy white cascades that painted your face, neck, and breasts.

“swallow what you can, filthy convict.”

you gulped noisily, savoring the taste, then licked the bars clean with your tongue and scooped the rest from your skin, sucking it greedily off your fingers while whimpering and staring up at him with desperate, hungry eyes.

he released you from the cage, uncuffed your wrists, and laid you on the bed, cuffing you spread-eagle. his hands roamed slowly—tracing, squeezing, pinching—before his mouth followed. he kissed and sucked dark marks into your inner thighs, then buried his face between your legs. his tongue worked with expert patience: long, flat licks from your dripping entrance to your clit, then tight circles and suction that built the pleasure in waves. two thick fingers curled deep inside your pussy, stroking that sensitive spot while another teased circles around your tight asshole. you whimpered and moaned, face contorting in building ecstasy—mouth open wide, eyes fluttering shut then snapping open to watch him. the orgasm built slowly, then crashed over you hard; you cried out sharply, squirting across his tongue and chin in hot pulses. eren moaned hungrily against your flesh, drinking every drop, then rose up to kiss you deeply, shoving his tongue into your mouth so you could taste yourself on him.

the pace steadily quickened as he climbed over you. he rubbed his cock against your soaked folds teasingly before pushing in slowly, inch by thick inch, stretching you open with delicious burn. both of you moaned in unison, eyes locked. his face showed intense focus and pleasure—jaw clenched tight, sweat already beading on his brow, green eyes half-lidded as he savored the tight, wet heat.

“just like we agreed,” he whispered hoarsely against your lips.

“no attachments… just this.”

you rocked your hips up to meet him, whispering back your own filthy affirmations. then the dam broke completely. eren’s thrusts grew harder, faster, turning punishing and deep. the room filled with loud, obscene wet slapping of skin on skin, your escalating screams and broken whimpers, his deep, chesty animalistic grunts. his expression turned feral—sweat dripping down his sculpted chest onto your tits, teeth bared, eyes wild with dominant lust as he wrapped a hand around your throat lightly and slapped your clit repeatedly. you matched his energy perfectly, nails raking down his back, legs wrapping around him, begging louder and filthier:

“harder—fuck me like you own me!”

he slammed in deep and came with a roar, flooding your womb with a massive, pulsing load that overflowed around his cock. he pulled out slowly, watching it leak.

“push it out for me.”

you did, and he immediately dove down, burying his face in your creampied pussy—eating his own thick, musky cum with loud, wet slurps and moans, tongue scooping every drop from your twitching hole before snowballing the creamy, stringy mess into your mouth in a long, nasty, spit-and-cum-filled kiss. tongues battled desperately, both of you swallowing and sharing the filthy mixture.

the night spiraled wildly from there, using every element of the prison theme.

he locked your ankles in the heavy spreader bar, positioned the industrial fucking machine, and set it to a steadily increasing rhythm. the thick, ridged dildo hammered your g-spot relentlessly while eren straddled your chest and throat-fucked you with brutal abandon. you screamed and gagged loudly around his cock, body convulsing, squirting violently around the machine in powerful, soaking arcs that drenched the bed and his thighs. eren’s face was wrecked with pleasure as he roared and unloaded fresh ropes across your already cum-covered face and tits. you licked and swallowed what you could while he attached a vacuum pump to your swollen clit, making it throb obscenely, then ate you out again with ravenous hunger—sucking the mixed cum and squirt, fingering more of his loads deeper into your ass.

bent over the cold steel bars of the open cage, gripping them tightly for leverage, he claimed your tight asshole—starting with slow, stretching thrusts, then building to deep, punishing strokes while an inflatable plug in your cunt swelled bigger and bigger. you screamed raw, drooling uncontrollably down your chin, face pressed against the bars as waves of overwhelming pleasure-pain crashed through you. eren grunted and moaned loudly behind you, hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, slapping your ass until it glowed bright red.

“bad inmates get both holes wrecked until they break,” he growled, fully lost in the roleplay and the filth.

your shared, insatiable greed fueled round after round without mercy: he fisted your cum-drenched cunt while you deepthroated him to the balls, gagging and crying tears of pleasure; he used medical speculums to hold both your holes gaping obscenely wide so he could watch his loads drip and pool inside before refilling them again and again; you rode the fucking machine while he used your tits and mouth simultaneously. every single orgasm left you shaking, screaming his name, and squirting uncontrollably; every load from him was pushed out, eaten greedily from your wrecked holes, shared in messy snowball kisses, or smeared across your skin and face like war paint. sweat, squirt, thick ropes of cum, and saliva turned the entire suite into a slick, cum-drenched, musky battlefield of pure, nasty debauchery.

hours blurred into an endless haze of overstimulation and ecstasy until you both finally collapsed in a sticky, exhausted, cum-soaked heap on the ruined bed.

eren pulled you close, tracing your marked and ruined body with rough but tender fingers.

“you’re my dirty little secret now,” he murmured, voice hoarse but sincere, green eyes intense.

“this won’t be the last time. i’ll find ways.”

your phone buzzed softly as you gathered yourself. mikasa’s cryptic text appeared: some cages echo longer than others.

dawn light found you gone, body deliciously destroyed and already aching for the next time.

eren lingered alone in the prison suite after the door clicked shut. the heavy, intoxicating scent of sex slammed into him—thick musk of dried and fresh cum, sweet tang of squirt, sweat-soaked silk and skin. the bed was utterly ruined: enormous wet stains from your repeated violent squirting, thick white pools and streaked ropes of his multiple loads everywhere, handprints, smears, and puddles marking every surface. the cage bars still glistened with remnants of saliva and overflow. memories flooded him—your screaming, greedy face contorted in ecstasy, the way your holes clenched and milked him so perfectly, how your mind and body matched his darkness so completely. his spent cock twitched, then hardened fully again despite exhaustion. with a low, hungry groan, eren unzipped his pants, freeing his thick length, and wrapped his fist around it tightly, eyes half-lidded as he drank in the evidence of your shared, nasty sin, stroking slowly to the lingering scent and sight of you.

☾⃝໋᷂꙳⟡

[i-heart-armin]

3rd Row, By The Window

————————————————————————

Pairings: Armin Arlert x Fem Reader

Summary: You ask Armin to help you study, with a happy little accident your relationship evolves into more than just friends.

Warnings: Heavy smut, making out, thigh gripping, dry humping, thigh grinding, slight tit play, palming, fingering, PnV sex, virgin! Reader and Armin, desk fucking, soft dom Armin, creampie, use of nicknames (Angel, good girl, slut, etc), slight overstimulation, mating press, size difference, raw sex, aftercare, teasing (from eren the next day).

Word count: 6053

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Sunlight illuminated the golden locks of the boy sitting in the third row, next to the window. His gaze was trained on your professor as the words began to topple over one another, his pen scribbling down any coherent information that escaped his chapped lips. Something you had long given up on, not a soul tried or even liked Mr Haas’ class, except for Armin Arlert, forever the goody too shoes striving to be better than the rest. The type to raise his hand about handing in homework while the rest groan in agony, which safe to say doesn’t make him the most likeable character among your peers. Yet something about him made your heart beat one pace faster, palms clammy, and head light. Which is why today is the day you ask for some ‘help’ with his expertise in tutoring.

With your supplies readily packed within the constraints of your school bag, you anxiously anticipated the minute the clock struck the conclusion of the lesson. Strumming your fingers on the desk you looked up to the worn clock on the wall, never failing to be exactly 1 minute behind the rest. The two hands met and this was your cue to go, you swiftly stood up from your seat, pushing it under the desk before letting your legs mindlessly take you to where Armin was still packing away his materials from class. The confident air you once adorned soon vanished when you saw his head poke up to meet you with those intimidatingly blue eyes.

“Oh hi (name)!” Armin chimed, a bashful smile playing along his rosy lips. You were surprised he even recalled your name, you’ve only ever spoken to him what, 2 maybe 3 times? Averting your gaze from his piercing one to look at the fidgeting of your thumbs, you gained the courage to speak, “Uh hey Armin…” He cocked his head to the side, stepping closer to you after he’d slew his weighted bag over his shoulder. “What um, brings you here to talk to me all of a sudden?” He chuckled. You captured all the air you could manage in one breath, finally regaining your composure to look back into his eyes. “I know this is sort of out of the blue but you’re probably the smartest person in this room, teacher included, and I’m struggling with my studies so if it doesn’t take up too much of your time, I would really appreciate if you could tutor me.” The last morsel of air escaped your lungs and you looked up at him, awaiting an answer.

The corners of his mouth turned up as he made the most enchanting smile, truly something you’d see out of a fantasy, and replied. “Of course, it’s no trouble at all, I'd be honoured to help in any way I can. And I’m not that smart, don’t make my head grow too big.” You prayed he wouldn’t notice the blush that was quickly climbing up your neck, and grinned back at him with a plethora of scenarios racing through your mind. “Thank you so much, Armin, you’re being such a great help.” And under your breath, you murmured, “But you ARE that smart.” If he noticed, he didn’t say anything, however, it was likely he did as his cheeks grew an almost hardly noticeable, pink tinge.

“I’m actually free for the rest of the day, if you want to come to my dorm room. Not that we can’t go to a library or your room it’s just that at this time it would be super busy and I wouldn’t want to intrude in your space.” Armin squeaked, averting his gaze for just a moment before returning. Was this a blessing from god himself? Armin Arlert inviting you into his own room, there was no other explanation for it. “No, that’s totally all fine with me, I agree the library would be too busy, and my room is.. a bit of a mess at the moment.” You tittered, nervously exchanging weight between your two feet like a seesaw. “Well it’s set then, let’s start making our way” Armin smiled as you two walked down to the door leading out of the lecture theatre.

—x—

The corridor felt long, too long, the plain white walls and old grey carpet seemed to stretch into an endless abyss, until Armin halted. You were there. Every muscle in your body was stiff as an 80-year-old, contradicting the lively passion of youth burning in your heart. “(Name), we’re here. (Name)?” Broken from your trance you abruptly twisted your body to face the door looming in front of you. “Are you ok, I know the place could use some work but it’s scholarship-funded so I can’t complain.” Armin awkwardly laughed, “No! No, I mean it’s fine, great even, I’m fine just spacing off haha…” Your eyes darted around, Armin looking at you with a hint of concern behind his gaze.

“Alright, as long as you're fine.” He uttered, opening the door to let you in first, ever the gentleman. So this is what his room looks like, tidy, as expected, navy blue bedding made neatly, a picture of his best friends Eren and Mikasa resting prettily on the bedside table, bookshelves from floor to ceiling, not one spot left unfilled, and a large desk complete with anything you could ever need for schoolwork. Armin to a t. “Wow, your room is so beautifully organised, wish I had that kind of commitment.” You joked, turning to smile back at him, to which he returned the gesture. “Well, I try.” He said smugly.

He strode over to the mahogany desk, pulling out an extra chair from behind for you to perch yourself on. “Feel free to make yourself comfortable, if you’re cold you can use my throw blanket, the place doesn’t have heating so it can get a little chilly.” You turned your attention to Armin, holding the fluffy grey blanket in his hand, smiling to yourself you took it gratefully and placed it upon your body, opening your bag to get out your studying supplies. “Thank you, it was feeling a bit nippy in here, won’t you get cold without it though?” Armin slinked around your chair, carefully positioning himself in his own, “Don’t worry about me, I’ve got pants and a jumper on, you’re wearing a skirt so priority should fall to you.”

You nodded in agreement, flipping your textbook to where you were stuck. Armin began to pull out his books, kicking off his shoes as you were reminded to do the same. He watched you, how you swung your legs from the chair, how you tucked your hair behind your ear so as to not get in the way of reading your book, how you would occasionally glance back at him, only to quickly look away with a light dust of pink on your cheeks. You were cute, he had to admit, it was obvious, but in your own unnerved state you ignored how he fidgeted with his hands, how his thigh was subtly bouncing up and down, and how he blushed when you caught him staring. Armin cleared his throat to terminate the silence, “So, um, what was it that you needed help with?”

You explained to Armin the concept you were stuck on, pointing to a practice question. “I just- don’t get how it works, like I know the steps but my brain doesn’t know how to put it into action.” You met Armins’ eyes as he reached over to your hand, shuffling his chair closer so that your thighs may abut at any moment. “Can I?” He asked, glancing at the pen you were holding. “Yeah, sure.” You handed him the instrument, your fingers brushing against each other a second or two longer than what would be considered an accidental graze of the hand. His breath slightly hitched and you raised your head to look at him, however, he had already begun writing on a blank piece of paper nearby.

“Here, (name) I finished this question, let’s go over how to do it.” He placed the paper down next to your book, explaining the question with words you’ve probably never heard in your life, damn that man is smart. It all blurred into one while he was speaking anyway, the way he could talk for hours and you wouldn’t get sick of hearing his sweet voice. He was so close, if you had been cold before you’d done a 180 because with the way your body was overheating you couldn’t help but slide the blanket down your legs to release some of the warmth. Exposing just your upper thighs, as you didn’t have the gall to completely take it off after recently accepting his thoughtful gesture.

Time passed as you followed the same formulaic routine, practise questions, marking, explanation on where you went wrong, where you didn’t. The room now had an orange aura about it as the sun began to take its rest for the day, you’d lost count of what question you were on, your palm rested against your head acting as the lone barrier between you and your heading slamming the desk in exhaustion. You heard the sound of a pen rolling across the desk, and Armin's hand was on your upper thigh. Gripping it, hard. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I really didn’t mean to do that, I was just trying to reach for the pen before it fell off the desk when I sort of lost my balance, I’m really sorry (name).” Just your luck.

Your face burned a bright red, as did his as he desperately tried to explain himself. But fuck did you want him to do it again. Nothing but spurts of air came out of your mouth, no words could describe what you were feeling, what you wanted him to do to you. The room fell silent for a brief period, and a shaky breath escaped your lungs. “I’m so so sorry, I can leave if you need me to, although this is my room so- um- I don’t know…”

You jerked your head up, looking at Armin as he thrashed about in his chair, searching for a solution that he wouldn’t be able to find in his flustered state.

“Armin calm down, I don’t mind, you didn’t try to make me feel uncomfortable on purpose or anything!” You said, grabbing a hold of his strong shoulders and gazing deep into his azure eyes. He sat still, exhaling in relief. “God I thought I screwed it up with you, you had me panicking when you weren’t responding.” He chuckled, “It’s all good Armin, stop overreacting you only touched my thigh, there are worse places.” You smirked, “But I’d probably like you touching me there more…” you said in the faintest voice, thinking someone as quick-witted and observant as he wouldn’t notice. His jaw dropped in shock and his back straightened upright as electricity coursed through his nervous system.

“Did you.. mean that?” You slowly turned your head back around in horror, no way he fucking heard that, the window was close by may as well take a dive off the 3rd floor. “H-huh?” You tried to play it dumb, nobody here is being fooled by that, not even yourself. Armin took a breath before glancing to the side and back at you, beads of sweat beginning to form on his forehead as he almost choked on his words. “I could be completely off base here but, if you meant what you said, then I guess- I wouldn’t, uh, mind touching…” he said, his voice barely a whisper by the last word. You sat there, dumbfounded. It must be a dream.

“I- uh, yes?” Armin moved closer, gently placing his hand on top of yours, “Don’t feel pressured we can go back to studying if it was just a sarcastic remark.” Your heart was beating a thousand times per minute, and any oxygen passing through your lungs vanished in an instant, this couldn’t be happening, could it? “No, I meant it, really, if you still wanna…” His hand tenderly trailed from your own up your arm and to your waist, pulling you closer into his embrace. The blanket that provided you warmth slipped off your legs entirely to be long forgotten on the floor. His veiny hands delicately tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, as he leaned in and whispered, “I’ll do whatever you want me to, just say the word alright?” His body heat radiated against your frame, causing you to let out small pants as his fingers leisurely traced up and down your sides.

“Kiss.. please.” You said breathily. Armin pulled back, you could see a certain hunger in his eyes before his plush lips met your own, he was intense, yet docile, taking such care in pleasing you, beckoning to your every wish and desire. “You're so perfect, so sweet for me.” He said between kisses, your lips entwined with each other, neither of you eager to stop anytime soon. He brought his other hand to rest behind your neck, lightly grasping your hair to pull you deeper into the kiss. The hand that was around your waist slithered down to the back of your thigh as he used it as leverage to lift you onto his desk. You gasped at the sudden movement, allowing Armin to intrude his tongue into your mouth, as his hand once again seized your waist.

“Mh!” You moaned into his mouth, as he slid his surprisingly muscular thigh between your legs, pressing against where you needed him the most. You grasped at anything behind you to stabilise yourself, the contact making your body go limp, so long for the various papers and stationary that toppled off the desk in your wake. Just when you thought it couldn’t get any better, a gasp escaped your lips, breaking the kiss while he moved his thigh up and down, rubbing the thick material of his pants on your clothed pussy. “Be a good girl and use it, ok?” Armin purred into your ear, his lips making their way from your jaw, down to your neck, and stopping at your collarbone, marking them with maroon-coloured blemishes. As per his instructions, you began to rock yourself on his leg, hands clawing at the fabric of his freshly ironed jumper, leaving wrinkles in the fabric as it bunched up.

He took clutch of your waist, you could feel his fingertips softly guiding your hips to arch forward and backward in a fluid motion. The friction of his rough jeans was too much to handle, making your clit throb incessantly while small whimpers slipped off the tip of your tongue. Your legs desperately suffocated his own as you rocked yourself at a faster pace. To which Armin promptly shoved his leg further into your core, causing the desk to shake and miscellaneous objects to fall from the cliff as he spread your legs out once again. “You’re doing so good, keep going. Tell me where to touch you next.” All you could manage was a barely audible “Ok”, too caught up in the pleasure to form a coherent sentence.

All of a sudden he stopped, his leg halting as he lifted his head from your body, hair messy, pupils dilated, and lips wet. The look in his eyes said he wanted, no, NEEDED to devour you. However, the loss of contact made you whine out in frustration. “Min..” you groaned, apprehensively grinding yourself on his leg in hopes he would move just an inch. “(Name) you gotta tell me with your words now,” Armin spoke, leaving one more kiss on your neck before looking up at you with pleading eyes. Sighing, you bit your lip in embarrassment, “Anywhere, everywhere, wanna feel you all over me… inside me.” He gazed back, stunned at your confession, not to say he wasn’t wishing for the same thing.

You felt the harsh grip of his hand on your ass in an instant, pulling you flush with his hips where you could feel the unmistakable hardness of his dick pressing against you. He swiftly lifted your legs to wrap around his torso while pushing your back against the desk, his hand placed behind your head to make sure you didn’t hit it too hard. His lips were hot against yours and you could feel your baby hairs cling to your forehead from the sweat. Armin's nimble fingers made their way up your shirt, carefully pulling it over your head while he held you off the desk by your waist, hands burning your skin with the simple touch. Your eyes darted down to where his erection strained against his pants, he couldn’t help but needily grind his cock into you to release at least some pressure.

Armin's free hand went to cup your breast through your bra, kneading the flesh as you moaned out in ecstasy. Soon he reached around your back to unclasp the undergarment, staring intently as your tits slightly bounced while falling out. He pressed into your core harder as he felt the soft sensation of your bare boobs beneath his fingertips, experimentally rolling your nipple between his index and middle. The heat in the air was unbearable, the warmth of Armin's jumper far too much at that moment. He gave a quick peck and a quaint “sorry” before lifting himself to strip his body of the item, revealing his toned torso and arms.

While you gawked at his body his hands were making fast pace to underneath your skirt, his short nails leaving tingling sensations as he traced them up your thighs. He folded up your skirt to get a better view, pausing to stare at the pink lace panties you adorned and discreetly swallowing the saliva forming at the back of his throat. He traced his eyes along your body, committing all your curves, the slight furrow of your brows and the way your chest raised up and down in anticipation to memory. His hand trailed its way down to your underwear, breathily sighing as he pressed his middle finger into the large soaked patch.

“Are you this wet for me?” Armin borderline whispered, his face flushing a deep crimson he attempted to hide by swivelling his head to the side. “You’re so cute, Armin.” You mused, interlocking your fingers with his and squeezing them within the palm of your hand. “N- stop, I can’t focus if you tease me like that..” He turned his attention back to you, face still flushed as he guided the hand you were holding to press against your panties. “Do you feel how fucking drenched you are?” He pressed your hand harder into your clit, “How am I not supposed to get excited?” Armin said defensively, you giggled at the sight before you were rudely awoken to his fingers dipping beneath the confines of your underwear.

Your moans rang embarrassingly loud in the small room as a finger shallowly dipped itself inside your pussy. “Is that ok with you?” Armin questioned, it didn’t really matter though as you’d let him do anything to you, however, you mustered up a half moan, half mhm in reply. His finger pulled its way out before pushing in again, much deeper than before. He set a slow rhythm, getting you acquainted with the feeling of something foreign inside of you. You peeked down to where his finger was pumping repeatedly, the veins of his hand prominent when he strained to curl his finger.

“Please, more.” You beseeched, he met your half-lidded eyes and swore he could’ve come from the perilous gaze staring back at him. “Anything for you angel.” And with that, you felt the stretch of a second finger entering you, thrusting faster and harder till your toes were curling in euphoria. Armin leaned over your body to kiss you, his tongue entering your mouth without hesitation, his fingers unrelenting on this attack on your pussy. As he was placing a thumb on your clit, his body jerked at the unforeseen touch of your hand palming his dick. “Mmm, so good min-“ you praised, causing him to nearly double over in pleasure.

The harder you pressed against his cock, the faster he would circle around your clit and thrust his fingers in and out, the more raucous your moans, the more you felt the twitch of his dick beneath his pants. It was a battle of who could indulge the other better, first to come lost, although it was never a fair fight, with the way he reached that spongy spot inside of you over and over, you were mere seconds from falling apart. “Gonna- come, ah!” You shrieked, your core clenching around his fingers so hard he may never be able to escape, “Go on, come for me now.”

You were past the threshold, climax hitting you with the power of a thousand colossals’. Although Armin didn’t stop the plunging of his fingers, rather speeding up, causing a lone tear to trickle down the side of your cheek onto the long-forgotten answer page he had so kindly written for you. “S- too much Armin..” You panted, still high off the last orgasm that propelled its way through your body at an alarmingly intense rate. “I know you can do it, trust me you won’t regret it.” He mumbled into your ear, arm tired yet still so eager to make this something to remember, make him something to remember. “Won’t be able- to take this,” you lightly brushed your hand over his erect dick, “if you keep going.”

His heart stopped momentarily before his hand. You slumped back when he gently pulled his fingers out of you, a string of your cum still attached from where his fingers were inside of you. When it broke, your blurred gaze followed his hand to where he placed them tactfully in his mouth, beginning to suck the viscous liquid. They came out clean, sparkling even, not a single drop wasted, and your pussy clenched around nothing at the sight.

“I uh- I don’t have any condoms 'cause I usually, no- haven’t, done this before..” Armin stuttered, eyes darting around his room just in case he’d find the non-existent protection he was speaking of. “Me either.” You said reassuringly, despite the nerves that were eating you up alive. “Really?” He questioned, “I didn’t mean that in a rude way at all it’s just- you’re so beautiful it was surprising to hear that.” Armin flushed, interlinking his pinky finger with your own. “I could say the same for you, I mean you’re sweet, handsome, smart, and with the way you were y’know doing that earlier I thought you must’ve had experience.” Your head turned away at the last word, it was far too embarrassing to look him in the eye after you said all that.

However, you were caught off guard when he grasped your chin between his index and thumb, turning you back around to meet him face-to-face. You felt his soft breaths against your skin, he was so close, and the way he was looking at you felt so.. intimate. “I may or may not have had practice with that stuff with my previous girlfriend, but I’ve never gone this far with her, or anyone for that matter. We’ve barely talked but there’s this feeling in my gut saying it wants it to be you.” A short gasp slipped past your lips, you wanted it to be him, too. “I’m on birth control, and I’m clean, obviously, so- please I need you right now.”

The clinking of his belt buckle rang through the room, commanding all your attention. His fingers danced through the belt loops, pulling it loose, you heard the clear thump of it falling to the ground. You utilised your elbows to prop you up, gazing downwards as he undressed himself, alluring you as if it were some kind of performance. He unbuttoned his trousers, and undid the zip, sighing in relief as the constraints were lifted. They slid down his legs, taking their time to reveal the main act of the evening. “Before I take these off, could you please take off your skirt and panties for me?” Armin croaked, attempting to distract the spotlight from shining on him too long. You complied, shimmying the items down your legs and blushing as you realised you were completely naked for Armin Arlert to see.

“It’s only fair you return the favour…” He pulled down his boxers, letting his cock spring free, it was pretty like him, pink and dripping with pearly white beads of precum, and surprisingly big too. You couldn’t help but stare, yet he couldn't complain, as he was doing the exact same to you. You both gawked at each other, unmoving. “Will that fit-“, “You’re so gorgeous-“, You both spoke at the same time, inebriated by the other’s presence. The implications of that comment dawned on Armin, and he tried to shield himself out of instinct, he was far too laggard though, as you gripped his wrist before he could block your view. “Don’t cover yourself, I wanna see all of you, even if it is a tad daunting.” You chuckled.

You felt his muscles soften under your hold, slowly pulling his hand away to place it on the desk, caging you with his presence. “I promise to be gentle, just tell me whatever comes to your mind to guide me, please?” He whispered, his head dipped down into the crook of your neck. You wondered if he could feel how fast your heart was beating when your chest gladly welcomed his. “Ok, but just know that I trust your judgement on any decision you make, try not to overthink anything and enjoy it for me.” You smiled, running your fingers through his silky locks. “Of course,” Armin tenderly spoke back, as he raised his body from yours.

You gasped as you felt his dick rubbing along your pussy, coating itself in your slick. Until it caught in your opening, his tip at your entrance pulsing and needy to be sheathed inside you. One hand guided his cock within your walls, the other rested against a shelf for support, inch by inch he sank deeper into you, and as the distance between him and the hilt shortened, he was reduced to a symphony of pathetic whines. However, your voice sought to challenge his, moans just as loud as the other, making it infinitely harder for him to stop the pulsing of his dick inside you. Armin was both equipped with girth and length, making the stretch unbearable, your hands that were wrapped around his frame clawed the skin, leaving stinging red lines behind their path.

“You’re so s-so good, just relax your body f’me, you’re too tight, nh-“ He rambled in your ear, barely able to pronounce his words at the sensation of your warm, wet pussy engulfing him whole. The feeling of the harsh wood underneath you was completely numbed by Armin as he pushed deeper and deeper, not an end in sight. You could feel the slightest movements, the two veins that ran along the underside of his dick, and the shivers that ran down Armin's spine, causing him to jolt his hips forward abruptly. “Just a little bit.. ah- more, taking me so well.” You felt the last of him slip inside you, your hips flush against his, stretching you out further than ever before. Your breaths were in unison for the minute or two you were rendered inert, the burn began to ease and the need for more had arisen.

Leeching onto his shoulders, you rolled yourself into him, a choked moan escaping his erubescent lips. Your eyes met in a moment of agreement, and his hips pulled back timidly before returning to their original position. Full body shudders erupted over your perspiring skin, he pulled back, only to push back in again, and out, and in, and out, and in, until it was a slow but fluent movement. You gazed up above you, to see the upturned brows and marginally parted lips, to which high-pitched whimpers and praises couldn’t help but fall out of. He was ethereal. Yet you wished for more, to stain every crevice and crumb of his being with adultery and filth. A sardonic pleasure in which you can bask in the knowledge that you and you alone have ruined him for anyone who dares to unveil his sheep’s cloak.

“Harder, min..” you moaned breathlessly into his ear, making his abdomen tense violently, attempting to keep himself from filling you up with his cum that very moment. Warm air tickled your ear before you were left with nothing but the tip of his dick inside you, that was until everything was inside you, in an instant. His cock split you open, gradually fucking you harder and faster till saliva was threatening to pour from the side of your mouth. Your legs wrapped around his torso, ankles interlocking to get him as far as possible. He reached his hand down to feel your stomach, pressing down so that he could feel his cock meet his fingers, “does it hurt taking it?” Armin questioned, with half-lidded eyes you looked below you. “Bit, not much anymore though… if I wanna be your slut- gotta get used to it.”

His hips stuttered, breaking the fast rhythm they had built up, and a loud groan slipped past his lips. His hands travelled to capture the backs of your knees, protracting your legs to rest over his broad shoulders. Resting his weight on your body your knees touched your chest, and his thick cock plunged itself deep inside you. “F-fuck Armin!” He soon regained his previous pace, the only sounds that graced your ears were the wet slaps of him pounding your pussy like no tomorrow, and the periodic thumping of the desk knocking on the thin walls. Armin coyly glanced to the side before perking up, “Such a good fucking slut for me, taking my dick like that-“ he choked on his words as he felt your pussy squeeze him desperately, the hand on your waist gaining a bruising force.

“If you tighten around my dick like that I don’t think I’ll be able to control myself…” good thing you didn’t want him to. Armin caressed your cheek with his free hand, before slinking it around the back of your head and pulling you up by the hair to meet his supple lips. You retaliated by biting down lightly on his bottom lip, making his thrusts increase in pace. His dick was kissing the head of your cervix as you whined broken sentences into his mouth, “r-ight, there.. ah! Min-“ he adjusted the angle of his hips to reach that spongey spot inside of you, your legs still being brutally folded in half with your feet dangling over his head.

“M’ gonna come..” the pressure had built and wrapped tightly around your core, drawing you closer and closer to the precipice of release. Armin relinquished the battle of your tongues, leaving a small string of spit between your swollen lips, and placed a thumb over your clitoris, swirling in rapid circles. “Mh- me too, come for me, angel.” And with that, your pussy was squeezing the life out of him like a vice, the two of you moaning loud enough to alert the whole building. “Can I- fill you.. up? Please?” You choked out a faint “yes” before you felt Armin's strokes begin to falter and eyes roll back in gratification. The warm sensation of his cum saturating your insides made you clench around him even tighter, drawing out every last drop as he watched himself fuck his cum back inside you.

“Ah! Such a, good, fucking, girl.” He panted, accentuating each word with a hard plunge. Before he slumped down to rest against you, holding your body tenderly in your hands while he ran another through your slightly damp hair. You felt the tensing of his muscles begin to alleviate, and your heart rate climbed back down to a moderate pace. Armin pulled out gently after taking a moment to regain his breath, even so, it hitched again when he saw his cum seep out onto the desk. “I’ll be right back,” he said, pecking you on the cheek before going to the bathroom to grab a washcloth.

He came back to the sight of you, fucked out on his desk, legs trembling, and eyes fighting to stay open. “Sorry if it feels too sensitive, it’ll only be a second I promise.” He carefully dragged the towel between your legs, making you squirm as the fabric briefly brushed your clit, and down onto the table where it had seeped out. “C'mon, let’s get you in the shower, yeah?” Armin gently lifted you in his arms, your legs wrapping around him like a koala bear, before he carried you to the cramped bathroom. “I’m so sorry if I was too rough, just wanted to make you happy.” He said, hiding his face in the nook of your neck, “Don’t apologise, I liked it, a lot.” Armin blushed, rotating his head to the side as he turned on the hot water, placing you down on your feet but making sure to still hold you in case you didn’t have the strength to stand. “Me too…”

—x—

“Soooo Armin, what did you do yesterday?” Eren grinned, reclining back in his chair watching Armin's hand immediately halt as he glanced to the side blushing. “Oh- uh, just the usual, y’know studying..” he chuckled, now repeatedly clicking his pen up and down. “Oh yeah, I bet you were doing a lot of ‘studying’ with (name) last night.” Armin's tongue darted out to wet his lips, looking to the ground as he was too embarrassed to meet Erens mischievous gaze. “Yeah, we were um- well she asked me to tutor her.” Eren bounced his knee up into the desk three times with faint moans before smirking, “Did you forget who lives on the other side of your wall? You guys were loud as fuck, good on you though I didn’t know you had that in you.”

His hand came down to his knee, Eren slapping it carelessly while breaking out into a fit of laughter. Armin lightly kicked him under the desk, his face tomato-red as he glared at the guy sitting across from him. “Shut up, we’re in a library and people are staring!” Armin whisper-yelled. Eren went dead silent as he spotted you a table or two away, noticing a plethora of dark purple marks along your neck. “Goddamn, you were feasting on that shit.” Armin buried his head in his palms while Eren sat there eyes wide with shock. You felt someone’s gaze boring into the back of your head, turning around you spotted Armin and his best friend Eren. You waved over to Armin to which he mustered up a meek smile and waved back, Eren looked over at Armin with a shit-eating grin on his face before ushering you over.

“Hey (Name), I’m Eren, I think we’ve talked in one of our classes before.” You sat down in the chair next to Armin, positioning yourself to face Eren, “Uh yeah I think I remember you! Good to see you again.” You smiled, glancing over to look at Armin, whose eyebrow was twitching ever so subtly. “Oh I actually saw you this morning when you came out of Armin's room, sorry I didn’t say hi sooner.” Your neck snapped back around to Eren, the only thing coming out of your mouth being awkward chuckles. You’ve never seen someone so innocent-looking give the deadliest glare to someone before.

“(Name), do you wanna go on a date, right now?” Armin asked, entangling his fingers with yours. “I-I’d love to, but um, weren’t you hanging out here before I intruded?” Eren leaned forward in his chair, “Go on with Armin, it makes me happy to see him with a girlfriend after so long.” He said earnestly, neither of you confirming or denying the accusation before you both stood up leaving him with a small “thank you”.

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I don’t really like the starting bit it’s lwk cringey, but I prefer smut with some backstory so whatever 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️. Hope you enjoyed I know ts isn’t realistic for a first time but it’s fanfiction so who cares 🙏. I’m open to any requests also, as long as it’s not incest…

[savaee]

🐬 ⸝⸝𓂂⋆｡ — ❝ 𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐓 𝐁𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐘 , 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 . ❞ 🐋 𓂃⋆｡˚🎧

𓏲 ℳ𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆!𝓢𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐱 𝐅𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 ໒꒱

ೀ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 𑣲 𐔌 𝟒,𝟕𝟎𝟒 𝜗𝜚 ‧₊ ꒱

ೀ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 𑣲 𐔌 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 ៸៸ smut ៸៸ 𝐟em!𝐫eader ៸៸ 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭!𝐚𝐮 ៸៸ ოidnight ຣwimming ៸៸ 𝐭respassing ៸៸ 𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐱 ៸៸ 𝐭easing!gojo ៸៸ 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝 𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐬 ៸៸ 𝐰all 𝐬𝐞𝐱 ៸៸ 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞 ៸៸ 𝐭ight 𝐠rip ៸៸ 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝜗𝜚 ‧₊ ꒱

★‧₊˚🐋 𓂃 ꒰ა★🐬★໒꒱ 𓂃🐋 ‧₊˚★★‧₊˚🐬𓂃 ꒰ა★🐋 ★໒꒱ 𓂃🐬‧₊˚★★‧₊˚🐋 𓂃 ꒰ა★🐬

ೀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 𑣲 𐔌 ❝ 𝘿𝙊𝙉'𝙏 𝘽𝙀 𝙎𝙃𝙔, 𝙎𝙒𝙀𝙀𝙏𝙃𝙀𝘼𝙍𝙏. ❞ 𝜗𝜚 ‧₊ ꒱

a late-night stroll through the luxury resort was supposed to be a quiet escape, but sneaking past the locked gates into the vip pool area definitely wasn't part of the plan. neither was getting caught. stepping into the warm, illuminated water under the midnight sky, you thought you were completely alone—until a smooth, familiar voice echoes across the deck, teasing you for trespassing on his private territory. satoru gojo is the last person you expected to find, and he has zero intention of letting you leave so easily 𐔌🎀

instead of turning you in, gojo offers a much sweeter alternative: stay in the water and play by his rules. with his heavy gaze locked on you and a playful, dangerous smirk pulling at his lips, the summer heat pales in comparison to the tension rising between you two. torn between running away and completely giving in, you quickly realize gojo isn't used to taking no for an answer—and the night is only just beginning 𝜗𝜚 ‧₊ ꒱

𓏲 splash zone masterlist 𝜗 ๋🐬𑂯

the summer air at the resort was so thick you could practically feel it clinging to your skin, a heavy, humid blanket that made every breath feel like a slow exhale.

it was past two in the morning, and the sprawling grounds of the private estate had settled into a quiet, sleepy lull. the distant sound of ocean waves crashing against the shoreline provided a steady background hum, punctuated only by the occasional chirp of crickets hidden in the manicured tropical flora.

​you had been tossing and turning in your hotel room for hours, unable to sleep, the air conditioning doing little to cool the restless heat buzzing under your skin.

so, you had slipped out. wearing nothing more than a thin cover-up thrown over your favorite bikini, your bare feet had padded silently down the stone pathways, guided only by the soft glow of garden lanterns.

​your destination was the VIP pool enclosure—a secluded, glass-walled oasis tucked away behind a dense wall of palm trees and blooming hibiscus.

it was strictly off-limits after midnight, a rule clearly posted on elegant brass plaques at every entrance. but as you reached the tall wrought-iron gate, you noticed a small gap where the latch hadn't quite caught.

​with a quick glance over your shoulder to ensure no security guards were patrolling the perimeter, you held your breath, slipped through the narrow opening, and let the heavy gate click quietly behind you.

​the VIP area was breath-taking at night.

underwater blue lights illuminated the crystal-clear pool, casting swirling, ethereal patterns of light across the surrounding marble deck and dark glass walls. steam rose lazily from the heated water into the cooler night air, creating an almost dreamlike atmosphere. cabanas with sheer white curtains lined the edge, completely vacant.

​you let out a soft breath you didn't realize you were holding.

complete privacy.

​shrugging the light cover-up off your shoulders, you let it pool at your feet on a lounge chair before walking toward the shallow end.

the moment your toes dipped into the water, a shiver of pure relief ran up your spine.

the temperature was absolute perfection. without hesitating, you slid smoothly into the basin, letting the warm water submerge you up to your collarbones.

​you leaned your head back against the tiled edge, closing your eyes and letting the weightlessness wash over you. the quiet hum of the filtration system and the gentle lap of water against the pool wall was mesmerizing. for the first time all night, you felt entirely relaxed.

​"you know, trespassing on resort grounds comes with a pretty heavy fine," a voice drawled out of the darkness. "or worse. they might just throw you out on the street."

​your eyes snapped open, your heart leaping straight into your throat.

​standing at the far edge of the pool, half-hidden by the shadow of a sprawling palm tree, was a tall, impossibly broad figure.

as he stepped forward into the soft blue light of the pool, your pulse spiked for an entirely different reason.

​it was satoru gojo.

​he looked utterly ridiculous and effortlessly attractive all at once.

wearing loose black swim trunks and a white linen shirt left completely unbuttoned, his damp, snow-white hair was pushed back, exposing the sharp, striking angles of his face. those vibrant blue eyes locked onto you, gleaming with an insufferable, playful amusement. in his hand, he held a tall glass filled with ice and amber liquid, condensation dripping down his knuckles.

​"satoru," you gasped, your voice echoing slightly against the glass walls as you pulled yourself deeper into the water to cover up. "what—what are you doing here?"

​"me?" gojo tilted his head, a slow, lazy smirk spreading across his lips as he took a slow sip of his drink. "i'm actually staying in the penthouse suite right above us. this happens to be my private pool deck for the week, sweetheart. so the real question is... what are you doing sneaking into my space at two in the morning?"

​you felt a sudden flush of heat creep up your neck, and it definitely had nothing to do with the temperature of the water. "i... the gate was open. i didn't think anyone was out here."

​"unlocked?" gojo let out a rich, low laugh that sent a strange tingle down your spine. he walked slowly toward the edge of the pool right where you were leaning, his long, casual strides oozing supreme confidence. he stopped right above you, towering over the water as he looked down at you with a brow raised teasingly. "well, that sounds like a security breach. should i call the front desk? tell them i caught an intruder taking a midnight dip in my pool?"

​"you wouldn't," you said, narrowing your eyes at him, though your heart was hammering against your ribs.

​"oh, wouldn't i?" he crouched down at the edge, balancing his weight on his toes. his knees flared out, bringing his face closer to yours.

up close, the sheer scale of him was overwhelming—the broadness of his shoulders, the intense, mesmerizing blue of his gaze, the casual aura of total control he radiated without even trying. "give me one good reason why i shouldn't just hit the emergency dial right now and have them drag you away."

​"because you're not that petty," you countered, holding your ground despite the way your breath caught in your throat. "and besides, you look bored. you were probably sitting out here all by yourself waiting for something interesting to happen."

​satoru's smirk broadened, his eyes sparkling with delight. he loved when you snapped back. "bored? maybe. but that doesn't change the fact that you broke the rules, little trespasser. and around here, breaking the rules comes with a price."

​"a price?" you repeated, your voice dropping an octave as he set his glass down on the concrete deck with a soft clink.

​"mhm," gojo murmured, his gaze dropping down to the surface of the water where the soft light reflected off your bare shoulders, before lazily traveling back up to meet your eyes. "a penalty fee. or a compromise, if you will."

​he reached down, the tips of his long fingers brushing against the water's surface right next to your shoulder, sending tiny ripples through the pool. the contrast between his cool touch and the warm water made your skin prickle.

​"what kind of compromise?" you asked, leaning back just an inch, though you couldn't pull your gaze away from his.

​satoru didn't answer immediately. instead, he unbuttoned the cuffs of his linen shirt, tossing the fabric onto the nearest lounge chair, leaving his broad, muscular chest completely bare. the sight of his defined abs and the sharp dip of his waist made your throat go completely dry.

​"a simple one," gojo said softly, his tone shifting into something deeper, richer, and decidedly more dangerous. "you stay right there, you play by my rules for the rest of the night... and i forget I ever saw you break in."

​he lowered himself smoothly onto the edge of the pool, his long legs swinging into the water, sending a warm wave washing over your chest.

he didn't pull away; instead, he glided into the basin, his massive frame submerging until he was standing waist-deep, closing the distance between you in a single, fluid motion.

​"so," satoru whispered, leaning in until his breath fanned warmly against your ear, his hand coming up to gently rest against the cool tile right beside your head, effectively boxing you in. "do we have a deal... or am i calling security?"

the water swirled gently around your waist as satoru took another slow step forward, effectively trapping you between his broad frame and the smooth, tiled wall of the pool. the contrast was dizzying—the cool midnight air brushing against your wet shoulders, while the submerged heat of the water wrapped around your legs, heavy and thick.

​gojo was towering over you, his blue eyes blown wide in the dim, atmospheric illumination of the underwater LED lights.

a lazy, confident smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he reached out, his long fingers trailing lightly along the surface of the water before making contact with your hip. his touch was light, almost tantalizingly brief, but it sent a sharp jolt of electricity straight down your spine.

​"well?" he drawled, his voice dropping an octave into a low, rumbling murmur that echoed softly against the glass walls surrounding the VIP enclosure. "i'm waiting, sweetheart. what's it gonna be? do i dial down to the front desk and tell them i caught a pretty little thief sneaking into my pool... or do you stay right here and accept your punishment?"

​you swallowed hard, your pulse hammering violently against your ribs.

the way he looked at you—like you were a game he had already won—made your breath hitch. "you're terrible," you whispered, though there was zero heat behind the words. "holding me hostage like this."

​"hostage?" gojo chuckled, a rich, dark sound that vibrated right through the water. he slid his hand further along your waist, his large palm cupping the curve of your side, thumbs smoothing over your skin with a slow, deliberate pressure. "i prefer the term host. i'm just making sure my uninvited guest enjoys her stay. but if you really want to leave..."

​he let his hand slide down toward your thigh, his fingers gently tracing small, agonizingly slow circles against your skin under the warm water. the sensation was almost overwhelming. every small movement made the water ripple against you, amplifying the friction of his touch.

​"i'm not leaving," you breathed out, the words escaping your lips before you even had time to think about stopping them.

​gojo's smirk widened, sharp and victorious. "good girl," he purred, the sweet praise dripping from his tongue so naturally it made your knees feel weak. "i knew you were smart."

​he shifted closer, his chest nearly brushing against yours. the heat radiating off his body was palpable, even through the water.

slowly, deliberately, he reached for your hand under the surface, slipping his long fingers between yours. his grip was warm, firm, and completely possessive as he anchored your hand against his thigh, pulling you another inch closer until there was virtually no space left between you.

​"rule number one," satoru whispered, leaning down until his lips were hovering just paper-thin distance away from the shell of your ear. "you don't look anywhere else. your eyes stay on me the whole time."

​the heat of his breath sent a violent shudder through you. "that's an easy rule," you murmured, tilting your head up just enough to catch his gaze.

​"is it?" gojo teased, his thumb caressing the back of your hand. "we'll see about that. you're already trembling, and I haven't even really touched you yet."

​"it's just... the contrast," you lied, your voice wavering slightly as his free hand slowly tracked upwards from your hip, tracing the line of your ribs, his fingers barely skimming the delicate fabric of your bikini top. "the water's warm, but the air..."

​"the air is cold," he finished for you, his voice velvety and smooth. "then let me warm you up."

​without breaking eye contact, gojo lifted his hand out of the water, his wet palm coming up to rest gently against your cheek. his thumb brushed over your bottom lip, applying just enough pressure to part them slightly. the contrast of his cool, wet skin against your flushed face made you gasp, and he let out a low, satisfied hum at your reaction.

​"so soft," he murmured, his blue eyes darkening as he tracked the movement of his own thumb against your mouth. "so beautiful out here under the lights. you have no idea how good you look right now, sitting in my pool, looking up at me like you're waiting for permission."

​your chest rose and fell in rapid, shallow breaths. the atmosphere had completely shifted from playful banter into something thick, heavy, and undeniably charged.

every small movement in the pool felt magnified—the gentle sloshing of the water against the tiled wall, the quiet rustle of the palm trees above, and the steady, rhythmic sound of gojo's deep breathing.

​gojo pulled his hand back down from your face, letting his palm slide down your neck, over your collarbone, and straight down the center of your chest. he moved with absolute patience, driving you crazy with how slow and deliberate every single touch was. when his fingers reached the tie of your bikini top, he didn't unloose it; instead, he simply hooked two fingers under the strap, tugging it gently down your shoulder.

​"satoru..." you whimpered softly, your hand tightening instinctively around his under the water.

​"shh," he murmured, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that felt almost physical. "you're doing so well, sweetheart. just let me take care of you."

​he leaned in, finally bridging the microscopic gap between your lips.

the kiss was slow, deep, and utterly possessive from the very first second.

his lips were warm and firm, capturing yours with a languling pressure that made your head spin. he tasted like expensive alcohol and summer heat, his tongue slipping past your lips to claim your mouth completely, drinking in every soft noise you made.

​you let out a soft groan against his mouth, your free arm coming up out of the water to tangle your fingers into the wet, silky strands of his snow-white hair.

pulling him closer felt impossible when he was already pressed so tightly against you, but you tried anyway, arching your back into his chest.

​gojo let out a low growl of approval into the kiss, his hand shifting from your ribs down to your lower back, pressing you flush against the hard length of his body underwater. you could feel the rigid proof of his desire pressing against your stomach, making your core throb with a sudden, desperate heat.

​when he finally pulled back, his lips trailing a path of wet, lingering kisses down your jawline to the sensitive spot right beneath your ear, you were completely breathless, clinging to his broad shoulders just to stay upright.

​"god, you taste so sweet," he whispered against your skin, his teeth lightly grazing your pulse point, making you gasp out loud. the sound echoed softly off the pool deck, a stark reminder of how open and exposed you were out in the open air. "i can hear your heart pounding, sweetheart. you like being out here where anyone could walk in, don't you?"

​"no... someone might see us," you breathed out, though the thought alone sent a thrill of dirty excitement straight through you.

​"let them look," gojo replied smoothly, his lips moving down to your collarbone, leaving a trail of fiery heat in their wake. "let them see who you belong to tonight."

​his hand dipped underwater again, sliding down to the waistband of your bikini bottoms.

his long fingers slipped beneath the damp fabric, tracing the soft skin of your hip before sliding lower, hovering dangerously close to where you were already aching for him. the gentle movement of the water swirled around his moving hand, heightening every single nerve ending until you were squirming against him.

​"satoru, please," you begged softly, your voice breaking as his fingers lightly brushed over your wet, swollen center through the fabric.

​gojo paused, looking up at you with a heavy, hooded gaze, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. "please what? tell me what you want, sweetheart. you have to ask nicely if you want to break the next rule."

​"i want you to touch me," you admitted, your cheeks burning with a deep flush that had nothing to do with the night air. "please... stop teasing."

​"that's my girl," he praised softly, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction.

​he didn't make you ask twice. his fingers slipped completely under the edge of your bottoms, finding your wet, slick folds effortlessly. the moment his touch made direct contact with you, a sharp gasp escaped your lips, your fingers digging into the firm muscle of his shoulders as he began to stroke you with agonizingly slow, rhythmic sweeps.

​"fuck, you're so wet already," gojo muttered, his gaze dropping to watch the way your body reacted to his hand underwater. "the pool water doesn't even compare to how warm you are right here."

​he pressed deeper, his thumb circling your sensitive center while two of his fingers slid slowly inside you.

the intrusion was so smooth, so perfectly maddening, that you had to throw your head back against the tiled edge of the pool, your chest heaving as a wave of intense pleasure washed over you.

​"look at me," gojo commanded softly, his voice leave no room for argument.

​you forced your eyes open, meeting his burning blue gaze through a haze of bliss. gojo was watching your face intently, taking in every twitch, every shallow breath, every soft whimpering noise that escaped your throat. he increased the speed of his fingers slightly, curling them inside you just right, hitting a spot that made your toes curl under the water.

​"that's it," he purred, leaning down to capture your mouth in another deep, bruised kiss, drowning out the breathless moans you couldn't keep in. "give it all to me. you're doing so good for me, sweetheart."

​his hand worked relentlessly underwater, the rhythm steady and unforgiving. every push and pull of his fingers sent ripples through the water, creating an unbelievable sensation of weightless, floating pleasure combined with the heavy, solid anchor of his body holding you pin against the wall.

you were completely at his mercy, floating in a sea of warmth, trapped by the man who owned the entire night.

​as the heat in your belly coiled tighter and tighter, gojo slid another finger inside, stretching you gently while his thumb applied steady, deliberate pressure to your clit. the sensation was too much, too intense—you felt like you were going to snap right there in his arms.

​"satoru, I'm... I'm going to..." you gasped out, breaking the kiss, your head rolling back as tears of pure pleasure pricked at the corners of your eyes.

​"i know," gojo whispered, his voice dark and brimming with pride. he didn't slow down; instead, he drove his fingers deeper, pacing you right to the absolute edge. "let go for me. come on my fingers, sweetheart. let me feel how good you break."

​with one final, deep thrust of his hand, you shattered.

a high, breathy sound escaped your throat as your walls clamped tightly around his fingers, a powerful wave of ecstasy crashing over you, making your entire body tremble violently in the warm water.

​gojo held you tightly against his chest, his free arm wrapping around your waist to support your weight as you rode out the intense tremors, his lips pressing soft, soothing kisses to your forehead, your temples, and finally your lips.

​"so sweet," he murmured endlessly against your skin, his thumb continuing to stroke you softly underwater as you came down from the peak. "such a good, sweet girl for me."

​when you finally opened your eyes, completely spent and thoroughly dazed, gojo was staring down at you with a look of pure, unadulterated hunger. the playful teasing was gone, replaced by a dark, heavy desire that let you know Act II was only the beginning of what he had planned for you tonight.

​"now," satoru whispered, his fingers slowly slipping out of you, making you let out a tiny, involuntary whimper.

he reached down and easily lifted you up by your thighs, setting you down onto the smooth marble edge of the pool wall. "let's get rid of these clothes."

sitting up on the sleek, cold marble edge of the pool, the night air hit your bare skin with a sharp, delicious contrast.

the water dripped from your body in tiny, glistening streams, pooling beneath your thighs. you were completely exposed, trembling slightly as the humid summer breeze swept over you, but the look in satoru’s eyes was hotter than the air around you.

​his gaze burned over every inch of your skin, dark and heavy with an unmistakable possession. without taking his eyes off yours, he reached up and hooked his long fingers into the sides of your damp bikini bottoms, sliding them down your legs in one smooth, fluid motion. he tossed the fabric onto the deck behind him, where it landed with a soft, wet slap that echoed loudly off the surrounding glass walls.

​the sound made you jump slightly, a sudden reminder of where you were—out in the open, under the stars, on the private VIP pool deck of a massive resort. anyone looking out from the surrounding balconies could potentially spot you if they tried hard enough.

​"satoru," you whispered, your voice trembling as you tried to bring your knees together to cover yourself. "it's... it's so open out here."

​"let them look," gojo drawled, his voice a low, gravelly purr as he stepped directly between your parted knees, his hands resting heavily on your thighs to force them back open. his long fingers dug into your soft skin, leaving pale indentations behind. "let every single person staying in this resort watch me take you. let them hear every single pretty noise you make for me tonight."

​he reached down to unbutton his own swim trunks, pushing them down along with his briefs until his heavy, rigid length was freed into the humid night air. you swallowed hard, your throat completely dry at the sheer size of him. he was fully erect, slick with prep, pressing right against the warm, aching center of your thighs.

​gojo leaned in, gripping your waist with both hands—his palms broad, warm, and utterly unyielding. his height and massive frame dwarfed yours entirely, anchoring you to the edge of the pool deck like you weighed nothing at all.

​"you ready for your real punishment now, sweetheart?" he murmured, his thumb stroking your hipbone while his cock head lined up against your wet, swollen entrance. "or are you gonna try and run back to your room?"

​"i'm not running," you breathed out, your breath catching in your chest as he applied the slightest bit of pressure, testing your slick opening.

​"good girl," satoru praised softly, a wicked, beautiful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "because i wasn't gonna let you leave anyway."

​he pushed forward slowly, the blunt tip of his length sinking into your tight, dripping warmth.

the intrusion was so massive, so relentless, that a sharp gasp broke from your throat, echoing loudly across the quiet water and bouncing off the high glass perimeter.

​"shh," satoru teased, a low chuckle vibrating against your collarbone as he paused halfway in, letting you stretch around him. he leaned down, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth lightly grazing your pulse point. "you gotta be quiet, remember? unless you want resort security to walk out those doors and catch you impaled on my cock."

​"satoru... please, it's—you're so big," you whimpered, your hands flying up to grip his broad, bare shoulders. his skin was hot, slippery with pool water and sweat, muscles flexing beneath your fingertips as he held himself steady.

​"you take me so well, though," he whispered against your skin, his voice dripping with sweet, intoxicating praise that made your lower belly turn to molten liquid. "look at you. so wet, so tight, wrapping around me like you were made specifically for this. taking every single inch."

​with a heavy, agonizingly slow roll of his hips, he pushed the rest of the way in, burying himself completely inside you.

​you threw your head back, a muffled moan escaping your lips as your inner walls clutched tightly around his throbbing length. the sensation was overwhelming—the cool air on your chest, the warm pool water splashing against your lower back, and the intense, stretching fullness of having gojo completely filling you up.

​he didn't give you a second to adjust. gojo pulled back until he was almost entirely out, teasing your entrance, before snapping his hips forward and plunging deep inside you once again.

​slap.

​the sound of his thighs crashing against yours broke through the quiet night, ringing out with terrifying clarity across the open deck.

you slapped a hand over your mouth in shock, your eyes wide as you looked up at him.

​gojo only laughed, a dark, breathless sound of pure delight. "that's it, sweetheart," he purred, increasing his pace, his thrusts becoming longer, harder, and more deliberate. "hold it in. let's see how quiet you can be while i fuck you on the edge of my pool."

​he established a brutal, rhythmic pace, his strong hands gripping your hips tighter, using his incredible strength to lift you slightly off the marble edge with every single upward stroke, meeting your body halfway with punishing force. every time he hit that deep, sweet spot inside you, your toes curled, and tiny, pathetic whimpers escaped from behind your hand.

​the friction was maddening.

your slick folds smoothed over his thick shaft, creating a wet, squelching rhythm that joined the echo of your heavy breathing. the summer heat felt amplified tenfold, sweat trickling down the valley of your breasts while gojo worked above you like a man possessed.

​"fuck," gojo groaned, his eyes dropping to watch where your bodies connected, watching himself slide in and out of your dripping center. his jaw clenched, the sharp angles of his face looking dangerously handsome in the blue pool light. "you feel so fucking good. tight as a vice. tell me how good my cock feels inside you, sweetheart. speak up."

​you pulled your hand away from your mouth, gasping for air as he slammed into you again. "it feels... so deep, satoru... oh god, you're so deep..."

​"that's right," he growled, leaning down to capture your mouth in a hard, bruising kiss. his tongue invaded your mouth, swallowing your needy moans while his lower body continued its relentless assault.

he tasted like salt and desire, his broad chest crushing against your breasts as he drove you further and further into the marble surface beneath you.

​he reached down with one hand, sliding his long fingers between your bodies to find your sensitive, swollen clit. the moment his thumb made contact, rubbing in fast, tight circles while he pounded into you from below, your brain went completely short-circuited.

​"satoru—satoru, wait, I can't—" you sobbed out against his lips, your fingers digging wildly into his back, leaving red marks along his smooth skin.

​"don't wait," gojo commanded against your mouth, his voice commanding yet incredibly tender. "take it. come for me right here on my dick. let me feel you squeeze me."

​he picked up the tempo, his thrusts turning into fast, shallow snaps that hit your g-spot over and over with relentless precision.

the slap of skin on skin echoed like gunfire across the silent resort grounds, but you couldn't care anymore. you were floating, drowning in the feeling of his body, his voice, his absolute control over your pleasure.

​with a sharp, breathless scream that you couldn't suppress, your body buckled. your inner muscles clamped around him in violent, rhythmic spasms, riding a wave of intense, blinding orgasm that sent white-hot sparks through your vision.

​gojo grunted heavily, feeling your walls milk him mercilessly.

he didn't stop—he rode you right through your climax, his thrusts becoming heavier, deeper, driving himself into you with hard, possessive thuds until your chest was heaving and your thighs were shaking uncontrollably.

​"god, you're incredible," gojo panted, resting his forehead against yours as your breathing slowly evened out. his chest rose and fell rapidly, his body gleaming with a fine sheen of sweat under the starry sky. "such a sweet, needy little trespasser."

​he didn't give you time to fully recover.

before you could even catch your breath, gojo wrapped his arms securely beneath your thighs and lifted you straight off the marble deck.

​you gasped, wrapping your arms around his neck instinctively as he stepped backwards, sliding both of you smoothly off the edge and dropping back into the warm, waist-deep water of the pool.

​the sudden surge of warm water washing over your lower body made you shiver, the buoyancy taking the weight off your tired legs. but gojo didn't let go of you. he carried you effortlessly through the water until your back hit the smooth, tiled wall on the far side of the pool, completely shadowed from the main resort lights.

​he kept you pinned against the wall, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, his cock still buried deep inside you.

​"satoru..." you whimpered, your head resting against the wet tile as the cool water swirled around your waist. "i... i can't... my legs are shaking."

​"i've got you," he whispered, his hands gripping the undersides of your thighs with a firm, bruising hold, holding your entire weight against the pool wall like you were light as a feather. "i'm not gonna drop you, sweetheart. but we're not done yet. not even close."

​he backed out slightly, the water helping him slide smoothly against your ultra-sensitive walls, before slamming back in with a sudden, powerful thrust that made your head snap back.

​"ah!" you cried out, the sound ringing out over the quiet water.

​"careful," gojo teased softly, a low, playful chuckle rumbling in his chest as he began to move inside you again, using the support of the wall and his immense physical strength to set a devastatingly deep pace. "someone in the penthouse might hear you if you keep screaming like that."

​"you're... you're doing it on purpose," you panted, your hands clutching at his wet hair, pulling his face down to yours.

​"maybe i am," he admitted against your lips, his thrusts growing harder, faster, the water sloshing loudly around your hips with every heavy snap of his pelvis. "i want everyone to know who owns this sweet little body tonight. i want you to remember this every single time you look at a pool."

​he worked you relentlessly against the wall, the combination of the warm, floating water and his unyielding strength driving you back toward the edge of sanity.

every time he lifted you slightly and dropped you back down onto his thick shaft, you felt the impact straight in the core of your chest.

​his sweet praise never stopped, whispered directly into your ear between dirty, breathless promises. "such a good girl... taking all of me... look at how pretty you look when you're completely undone for me..."

​the coil in your stomach pulled tight again, faster than before, building into an unbearable heat. "satoru... satoru, I'm gonna come again... please..."

​"come then," he growled, his voice dropping into a harsh, guttural tone as his own climax neared. he accelerated his pace to a blinding speed, his grip on your thighs so tight it was bound to leave handprints tomorrow. "come for me, sweetheart. let me feel it."

​you shattered against him for the second time, your scream buried in the crook of his neck as your body convulsed around him in intense, breathless waves.

​the feeling of your tight, pulsing walls finally broke gojo's control.

with a low, primal groan, he drove himself as deep as he could possibly go, pinning you flush against the pool wall, and poured his hot seed deep inside you.

his body shuddered violently against yours, his heart hammering wildly against his ribs as he held you impossibly close, filling you completely in the warm, quiet waters of the midnight pool.

the quiet of the night settled back over the courtyard, heavy and peaceful, broken only by the soft, rhythmic sound of your shared breathing and the slow, soothing lap of water against the tiled pool walls.

​satoru kept his arms securely wrapped around your waist, his massive chest rising and falling in steady swells against your bare back as he held you close against him in the warm water. he shifted slowly, adjusting his grip to scoop you up with effortless ease, carrying you away from the shadowy pool wall and back toward the shallow steps.

​every tiny movement made the water ripple gently against your sensitive skin, sending sweet, lingering shivers straight down your spine. you rested your heavy head against the crook of his neck, completely drained of all energy, your fingers loosely looped through his damp, white hair.

​"gently," you murmured, your voice barely more than a soft, raspy whisper.

​"i've got you, sweetheart," satoru purred softly into your hair, his lips pressing a tender, lingering kiss against your temple.

​he climbed the shallow steps until he was sitting on the top tier, submerged only from the waist down.

he pulled you up with him, settling you right in his lap so you were sitting sideways across his thighs. the night breeze brushed over your wet skin, cool and refreshing, but satoru’s broad body acted like a human furnace, keeping the cold completely at bay.

​his broad hands began a slow, soothing rhythm, smoothing water up along your arms and over your chest to wash away the lingering stickiness of the night. his touch was remarkably gentle now, completely devoid of the intense, demanding energy from just moments before.

​"look at you," satoru whispered, a lazy, fond smirk playing on his lips as he used his thumb to wipe away a stray drop of water resting on your cheek. "completely exhausted. and here i thought you had more fight in you, little trespasser."

​you let out a soft, breathless laugh, resting your forehead against his chest as you lightly swatted his arm.

"you literally used all your strength to pin me against a wall... don't act like i'm the weak one here."

​"hey, i offered you a fair compromise," gojo teased softly, his chest vibrating under your forehead as he let out a low chuckle. "you could've chosen to let me call security. but you stayed. in fact, if i remember correctly, you begged me to stay."

​"satoru," you warned playfully, hiding your flushed face in his neck.

​"i'm just stating facts, sweetheart," he murmured, his fingers threading gently through the ends of your wet hair, untangling the strands with painstaking patience. his voice had dropped into that soft, low register that made your heart do little flips in your chest. "besides, you were amazing. so sweet, so quiet when you tried so hard not to get us caught."

​you tilted your head up to look at him, taking in the sharp, striking lines of his face under the soft blue glow of the pool lights.

his damp hair was messy, falling loosely over his forehead, and those brilliant blue eyes were watching you with a warmth that felt even hotter than the water around your waist.

​"did you really mean it?" you asked softly, your thumb lightly tracing the line of his jawline. "about... letting everyone hear?"

​gojo smiled, the corner of his eye crinkling with genuine affection.

he caught your hand as it trailed down his jaw, bringing your knuckles up to his lips to kiss them one by one.

​"i meant every single word," he whispered, his eyes locking onto yours with an intoxicating intensity. "i wanted the whole world to know who you belonged to tonight. but... i'm pretty glad we had this place all to ourselves. i don't really like sharing my favorite things."

​your chest bloomed with a sweet, cozy warmth at his words. you shifted slightly in his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling yourself even closer into his chest. satoru immediately wrapped his long arms around your middle, resting his chin on top of your head as he rocked you gently back and forth in the shallow water.

​"we should probably get out before the sun comes up," you murmured, though you made zero effort to move away from his warmth. "the morning staff will be out here setting up the lounge chairs in a couple of hours."

​"let them," gojo drawled lazily, his fingers lazily drawing small, mindless circles on your bare lower back underwater. "let them set up around us. i'll just tell them i bought the resort."

​"you can't just buy a resort to avoid getting kicked out for midnight swimming."

​"watch me," he replied with that signature, cocky grin, though he leaned down to press a sweet, lingering kiss to the center of your lips. "i have unlimited resources, sweetheart. if i want to spend the rest of the morning sitting in a pool holding you, nobody's stopping me."

​you smiled against his lips, tasting the faint trace of salt and pool water on his skin.

the chaotic, thrilling adrenaline of sneaking in had completely melted away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of comfortable intimacy. sitting here in the quiet courtyard, wrapped in his arms under the fading summer stars, felt like being tucked away in a completely different world where time didn't exist.

​gojo reached down, smoothly lifting you out of the water as he stood up from the pool steps.

you let out a tiny gasp of surprise, wrapping your legs around his waist out of habit, but he just chuckled softly, holding you securely against his torso as he walked over to the lounge chairs where your towels were resting.

​he grabbed a large, plush resort towel, wrapping it completely around your shoulders before draping a second one around himself. instead of putting you down, he sat down on one of the cushioned loungers, pulling you right into his chest and pulling the dry fabric over both of your bodies like a small blanket.

​"better?" he asked, his chin resting against your shoulder as his strong arms hugged you tight against his chest.

​"much better," you murmured, snuggling back into his warmth, listening to the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart right against your back.

​the humid night air was beginning to turn into the soft, cool mist of early morning.

off in the distance, the sky was just starting to shift from deep midnight blue to a pale, dusky purple. satoru kept one hand wrapped around your waist while his other hand held yours, his long fingers casually lacing through yours, his thumb stroking the back of your hand in a slow, hypnotic pattern.

​"you know," gojo whispered close to your ear, his breath warm and ticklish against your skin, "you're a terrible rule breaker."

​"oh yeah?" you asked softly, closing your eyes as you leaned into his touch. "and why's that?"

​"because you got caught on your very first try," he murmured, his voice laced with a quiet, lingering fondness. he pressed another soft kiss to the side of your neck, his lips lingering against your skin. "lucky for you... you happened to get caught by the sweetest guy at the resort."

​"sweetest guy?" you laughed softly, opening your eyes to glance back at him with a mischievous look. "i'm pretty sure you threatened to call security on me."

​"it was a strategic negotiation," satoru corrected smoothly, his blue eyes sparkling with quiet amusement as he pulled you a little tighter against his chest. "and i'd say it worked out pretty well for both of us."

​you couldn't argue with that.

leaning your head back against his shoulder, you let your eyes drift shut, feeling completely safe, warm, and thoroughly content wrapped up in his arms as the quiet summer morning slowly began to wake up around you.

[the-traveling-poet]

𝓓𝓮𝓮𝓹 𝓦𝓲𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓕𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓽

𝓟𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰: Levi Ackerman x Lieutenant!Reader (GN)

𝓢𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂: As Captain Levi's trusted Lieutenant, you'd done your best to assist in keeping his new squad's morale up during your stay deep within the forest. Guarding the Beast Titan's user, Zeke Jeager, for a month's time had taken its toll on you all—you didn't see the attack coming until it was too late. The squad's death, Zeke's escape and recapture, the explosion...everything happened too fast for you to react beyond shielding your beloved Captain. The next thing you knew, you'd taken the blow, leaving Levi to come to your rescue.

𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽: Themes of grief/loss, descriptions of injury/injury to reader, angst-to-fluff, language

𝓐/𝓝: I'm so sorry this request took so long to publish! I was really off my game for most of 2025 lol. But now that I'm in a better headspace (at the moment), I'm wanting to get back to pushing out requests! I'm pretty self-conscious of this one-

Once again, the writing got away from me; enjoy a 2.8k word count :/ Hope it ended up okay for you lovely!

~𝒯𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝑅𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉~

Just as quickly as it had begun, the chaos came to an end.

Steam from decomposing titans rose up through the trees like tendrils of smoke, enough to nearly obscure your vision entirely—it dissipated all too soon, leaving you with a grim sight just a pace or two away from where you stood on tired legs.

Hadn't you, just a moment before, cautioned your Captain against this? It seemed your concern had gone unnoted, for there Levi was; kneeling onto the forest floor, inches away from the mangled and crumpling corpse of the Beast Titan, reduced to unconsciousness. In one hand he held aloof a thunder spear, curling with steam and dissipating blood—though, the majority of sticky crimson remained, and you had to glance away.

Zeke had fallen captive once more. What remained of him, at least. 

Levi had wasted no time in dismembering the blond’s legs and tying back his wrists, but a cruel gleam remained in the Captain’s eyes—malice, rage, bloodlust…you knew he likely wouldn't listen to you now. 

Not after what Zeke had done.

And in all honesty, you couldn't blame him.

It had been so quiet just this morning, another day of guard duty in the forest—where had the time gone? One moment, you'd been laying back in your hammock high above the campsite, on break from your “shift” of sorts. Down below you paced your comrades, speaking low or joking quietly. Others read or wrote, some slept or trained.

It had been almost peaceful, if one could call this duty such. 

Captain Levi and his squad, yourself included, had been assigned to keep watch over the Beast Titan’s user, Zeke, for a month's time: a long, boring month of detaining a grown ass man within the forest far from the walls. While necessary, many complaints had arisen.

Boredom, homesickness, distrust…a whole plethora of reasons kept Levi’s new squad on edge. 

As the Captain’s Lieutenant, you'd done your best to smooth over what you could. If not for them, then perhaps you’d subtract one more stressor from Levi’s long list. 

So you’d hoped, anyways. 

Even when your companions, and admittedly yourself, had grown restless after the second week, you’d all held out this long. The end had been near, with hopes to return to the walls. The whole ordeal had been stressful, but worth it in the end to see your squadmates lighten up.

Yet now…now, they were gone. 

All of them, not a single soldier had been left alive.

They didn't get the chance to return home. To celebrate, to bond outside of duty.

Another squad, gone. Their bodies mutilated in titan form burned into your mind evermore. 

All dead.

All but you and your Captain.

So many had been tricked by the enemy with tainted wine and restlessness—the thought made you ill.

You’d been offered a glass, and had declined. Had you accepted…

Levi’s frustrated grunt brought you back to the present and out of your thoughts. Turning to see what it was he was even doing, you froze.

“Captain, I’m serious; this might be too much…” You murmured, quick steps leading you forward to reach for the spear he aimed down at Zeke. But he was quicker, snatching it away from your outstretched hand. He’d had the end of the explosive pressed against the shifter’s abdomen, despite your earlier protests.

“It’ll keep him deterred from disobeying again, once the fur ball wakes up,” Levi scoffed, leveling you with the glare that hadn't left his face since the moment the battle started. You let your hand fall away from the thunder spear he gripped, and sighed.

This was reckless…

"And if he jolts anyways, pulling the wire…?” 

“...He won't make it that far. I’ll be watching for the moment he wakes; he owes me a little chat.”

A sickening wet thud followed the moment he lunged forward, and once again you had to look away.

Tying the wire around Zeke’s neck, Levi continued to speak over his shoulder.

“Bet he wasn't counting on both our sobriety’s, the bastard. I…”

He paused, seeming to mull over his thoughts before continuing again, softer this time.

“I’m…glad you didn’t drink, brat.”

“So am I…”  you replied meekly, keeping your gaze averted.

“We shouldn't have allowed–”

“Stop that.” Levi cut you off, tying the wire taught before coming to a stand.

“There was no ‘we’, it was me. I gave the okay, I cut them some slack—this is on me.”

He avoided your gaze as he looked around the disarrayed forest, scoffing under his breath. His expression slowly changed from anger to vulnerability, as if the guilt he felt was physically painful and heavy. You knew it was…

“...See if the carts are still intact, and if the horses back at camp are still tethered,’ Levi continued.

“We're taking Zeke to the interior.”

Hours passed by with nothing of interest to note as the horse trotted along the old dirt road.

The forest blurred by as you lost yourself to thought again, watching the horizon color vividly with the dipping sun.

Miraculously, you’d managed to locate a cart still intact, and a horse healthy enough to pull the weight. Levi had taken to placing Zeke upon the floor of the craft and carefully arranging his limp body while you kept a lookout, and then off you'd been. 

Your Captain had been more quiet than usual, his gaze never wavering from the blond man at his feet. You hadn't pushed for conversation while you guided the horse’s direction from the front seat: there was nothing to say that hadn't already been felt.

Even as evening turned to night, and night into morning, the pace at which you traveled never slowed. Despite the rain soaking you to the bone, despite thirst and hunger, you carried on.

Chancing a glance back, you were surprised to catch Levi’s eye; the first he’d taken it off of Zeke in hours. He looked about to say something, but hesitated as a quiet murmur above the crash of rain caught both your attentions, and he held up a hand.

Then, and only then, did Levi signal you to pull the reins.

Slowing the horse’s gait, you swept your gaze to the floor of the cart, and cursed under your breath; he’d woken up.

Already Levi had tortured the man, taking out his frustrations after explaining his situation to him—you hadn't expected Zeke to gain consciousness so soon after having his regenerating legs so crudely amputated.

This time, Levi seemed more content to listen to Zeke’s inane rambling before physically lashing out. Even still, you chose this moment to quietly remind him of the time before he could.

“We’re nearly an hour out; it’s best we just keep moving.”

Levi cast you a look over his shoulder, but didn't comment. So, begrudgingly, you turned your attention back ahead and just listened to Zeke’s speech. In the midst of it, you heard Levi scoff.

“Look at that, your legs are growing back already…”

You turned just as he’d unsheathed his blade, but before he could raise it much higher, Zeke began to scream and thrash.

In the moment, you hardly registered what he was saying; because the instant Zeke jerked his head, you were on your feet.

“Cap-!” You started to scream, but already it was too late.

One moment, you felt the slick of rain water slowing your steps inside the cart, and the next you felt nothing at all. Nothing but a vague awareness to the sensation of weightlessness. 

The grey skies overhead vanished from sight, the cool chill brought by the downpour warmed, and screams seem to just fade away in your ears. Even the explosion had seemed silent, despite seeing it happen for yourself.

You never registered hitting the ground, nor the sharp sting of injury–everything was blank.

Empty.

Quiet…then still.

The moment you regained consciousness, panic overtook your mind. 

Up above you saw a canopy of leaves, swaying in the breeze and bouncing under pelting rain–when had the sky darkened? How long had your eyes been closed?

Where were you? Where was the field, and the burning cart?

Levi…

You hastily swiveled your gaze this way and that, but only saw half of what you expected to; in the way that only one of your eyes seemed to obey your will to open.

A scratchy material itched your face in many places, leaving you feeling a sense of dread. 

Who had bandaged your face? What was your condition?

Though, when you attempted to raise a hand up to your face to inspect the covering, you found your arm felt heavy like lead.

Everything felt like lead.

Heavy, bruised, achy, sharp and painful…The explosion, you recalled.

Had you shielded Levi enough? 

What became of Zeke?

Where had you ended up?

Why was it so…cold?

All these silent questions swirling around your head only worsened the ache behind your eyes. This wouldn't do…

Sheer determination helped you sit up, despite your brain screaming at you to stay laid down. 

The second you did, a firm hand gripped your shoulder, making you gasp.

Levi sat at your side, eyes wide like he hadn't expected you to be awake yet. But upon giving you a once over, he visibly relaxed, though his scowl returned.

“...We never left the forest,” he mumbled, as if he’d heard your silent question. His voice was rough, like he hadn't used it in a while.

Reaching up to adjust the cloak haphazardly thrown over your abdomen, he scoffed.

“...How are you feeling?”

Despite the myriad of thoughts swimming around your head, you finally found your voice–scratchy, quiet, hoarse. Your words came out in a hazy ramble.

“Shitty. Cold, sore, weird–but Zeke, he-”

Levi raised a hand, cutting you off.

“Got away. I got distracted, and…dammit, you paid the price for that.”

His look concerned you enough to sit up a bit straighter, and immediately he tensed like he might reach out to grip your shoulder again.

“Dont,” he warned, short and simple.

With a huff you leaned back a little.

“Captain…what exactly happened?” you pressed.

For a moment, you weren't sure he’d respond. But eventually he let out a weary sigh of resignation.

“...Let my anger overrule my judgment. Shouldn't have put us in that kind of situation—put you in that kind of situation. It cost you a damn eye and some fingers. Shit, Y/N, I–This is my fault.”

Anything you'd wanted to retort back with died on your tongue in an instant as you absorbed his words.

An eye? Some fingers?

You had to look down–with partial vision–to confirm, but looked away from your wrapped hand only after a brief glance as your stomach dropped.

If you'd had the strength to, you might have vomited. Or cried. Or both.

But you had to stay in control over what little you could.

“...How bad…?” You hesitantly asked, shifting on the makeshift cot he had apparently supplied.

You must have been out a long while…

“All of it–me.”

“Not great, not the worst,” Levi supplied lamely, his eyes transfixed on your hand before they swiveled up to your face–what of it was visible. A frown tugged at his lips, and his expression softened–like guilt, or pity.

You didn't like that look so much. Not aimed down at you.

“Captain…” you murmured, fixing him with a stern gaze. He met it with one of his own, then scoffed.

“Do I look like a damn field medic? I don't know; but you're alive, and that's what matters. We’ll figure out the rest.”

“What is the rest, Captain?” You again pressed, sitting up straighter and moving aside the cape covering half your body despite his glare demanding you didn't.

You ignored it in favor of getting adjusted through the discomfort.

This time, he didn't try to stop you.

“...Concussion, bruising, blinded eye, missing fingers, you feel feverish, bruising–that’s all I can determine for now. You’re lucky camp still had some supplies I was able to scavenge.”

You already regretted moving so soon, but refused to show it as you ground out through grit teeth.

“You went all the way back there?”

“Made sure your body was covered first.” He reassured, taking his eyes off you briefly to look around the clearing you both inhabited.

“But yes.”

“Covered? What–”

“...We're being hunted, Y/N.”

The statement froze the blood in your veins and made your stomach queasy. 

Hunted?

Your mind spun with many possibilities before you even asked; by Zeke? By someone else? More Titans? Marlians?

“‘Jeagerists’ turns out,” he continued, seeing your confusion. Your raised brow made him shake his head, and start to backtrack.

“That was his plan all along; taint the wine, turn the soldiers, reunite with Eren, escape and rally with Eren’s ‘followers’. A few showed up with Hange in tow, after the explosion. I'd just gotten to my feet and grabbed you when their guns went off.”

“Hange-” you gasped. They weren't anywhere within sight, and naturally you assumed the worst.

 “They’re fine. We got you out of sight and picked off the strangler as best we could with limited ammo. They’re keeping watch while I watch over you–we’re taking shifts.”

You both fell into silence for a long moment, in which time you took to look around and gather your wits about yourself as relief filled your mind.

They were safe…for now.

Everything still ached, still felt like lead; but you were safe. All three of you.

“...They scolded me, you know. For not thinking to look for your fingers after the explosion while getting shot at. They would have had a field day trying to reattach them to your hand, I imagine.”

His sudden comment made you huff with amusement; leave it to him to comment something so dryly and so unprompted.

“I can imagine,” you mumbled, looking around the clearing as if expecting to suddenly spot the Commander somewhere amidst the underbrush. You didn't, of course, and leaned back a little further. Exhaustion felt like a plague…

“Tired?” Levi murmured, glancing back your way again with a raised brow. When you merely nodded, he sighed and leaned his weight forward, resting his forearms onto his knees.

“Rest then, damned stubborn brat. Only thing you're missing right now is watching the shitty grass grow. We’re gonna need you healed up before winter sets in, you know.”

He paused when you actually attempted to lay back, and immediately shifted to sit on his knees and help lower you down. Much to your muted surprise, he even fixed the way his cape rested over your abdomen and shifted the roll under your head once you were settled.

More silence followed as you attempted to relax, yet never took your half-lidded eye off his.

That damned expression of his was back on his face–guilt.

“...I’m sorry,” he whispered, catching you off guard.

“I’d rather it be me than you.”

“I wouldn't, Cap’n” came your muffled reply. Damn the thick bandaging covering the majority of your face, and damn the way the sutures pulled at the skin of your cheek and mouth for every word you spoke. He frowned at that, and turned his gaze away.

“...Levi.”

You perked up a little, forcing your heavy eyelid to open and concentrate on his face–inches from yours.

“...Huh?”

“Just Levi; enough with this ‘formality’ bullshit. Haven't we known each other long enough? You're not just a damned Lieutenant.”

His words caught you off guard for the nth time, and if you could muster up a visible smile in the moment you would have. For now, you settled for a quiet grunt and reached for his hand.

Warm, calloused, steady and grounding. He didn't hold on, but didn't pull away either; it was enough for now. 

"I suppose so…Levi…”

Maybe it was the concussion you no doubt suffered from, but you could have sworn you caught the faintest shade of pink spread across his cheeks to his ears the moment you addressed him by name. But the sight vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. He turned his gaze away and sat back onto his heels, leaving you to wonder what you'd really seen.

“...Get some rest; no tossing or turning, you’ll just pull sutures. I didn't save you to watch you aggravate the wounds I stitched.”

Even as you let your good eye close and you relaxed your posture, you noted his loyal presence still right at your side.

And maybe, just maybe, you caught the faint sound of his voice as you drifted off into unconsciousness once more: peacefully, this time.

“I'm not going anywhere, so relax. We’ll figure it out in the morning. You're safe…I’ve got you, Y/N. Always…”

~More Levi Ackerman Content Here~

~Feel free to join the taglist for more Lieutenant!Reader content here!~

[arminsgffr]

You can always look better. Be thiner.

Armin x fem! Reader, angst, comfort, modern au.

This contains discussion of an eating disorder. I describe the inner thoughts of the narrator. Don't follow them, don't take them as an example of how YOU should think. If this can trigger you, I BEG YOU to not read.

To readers who are in recovery, I wish you all the best. I wish you to enjoy food again and get rid of all those horrible intrusive thoughts. To be in peace with your body. This is not a war with food, this is the life you should enjoy ᰔ

Note: I’m dealing with an 3d myself in this moments, and I’m relapsing, so I wanted to be honest and share that I’m writing this out of my current situation, and I know a lot of other people are dealing with this too and could, maybe, relate and feel seen and comforted by this. So, here it is.

English is not my first language, sorry if there’s any misspelling.

———————————————————————

It was getting worse. This feeling of guilt everytime I ate. The way I feared whenever someone offered me food. It was exhausting.

I was exhausted.

But even though, physically, I felt horrible, my mind wouldn’t stop insulting me If I did ate, and I couldn’t help but feel proud of myself everytime I made it through the day by only drinking water. My will was strong enough, that was good, right?

I have to admit that, in a way, I did this for Armin, my boyfriend. It didn't started that way, but it got stronger. Armin had a pretty slim anatomy, so I just felt weird. Whenever I looked at pictures of us, I couldn't help but compare how much space his body took with how much mine did. And even though he never showed any rejection to my body, even though he had told me so many times how pretty I was, I just couldn't understand why he would think that. I couldn't see what he did.

It was lunch time. I wanted to go outside, walk. But Armin insisted me to stay with him, in our desks. Everyone else went outside.

By laugh and laugh, he got his lunch out and started eating, I did the same, but I was just cutting stuff, to dissimulate.

He stared as I did.

— I think that’s enough cutting. — He tried to fade the serious tone he used by letting out a giggle.

I tried to laugh, but only sounded awkward.

He didn't say anything more, he just looked at me every few seconds. He stared at my plate, trying to figure out something. I was nervous.

— Why aren't you eating? — He wasn't looking at me anymore, he's eyes were locked in an unknown point of the classroom, like he couldn't dare to look at me. Like he feared my answer.

— Excuse me? — I understood exactly what he meant and I knew the exact answer, but magicians don't just tell they're secrets. I mean, losing weight like this, from the outside, looks like magic. Or that's what I tell myself.

I kept quiet. Couldn't bring myself to tell him. I didn't even know if I wanted to tell him. That implied a lot of things; that implied stopping.

That implied eating.

He didn't say anything either. I could see how scared he was, but I could see his concern too. He has always had an expressive face.

— Why aren’t you eating? —

We were at my house. He asked again. My mom was out. The house was alone.

He asked again.

I just kept still. Didn’t move a finger while my eyes stared at the stairs in front of me. I just wanted to go up to my room and leave this topic alone. Why did he had to care…?

— Please answer me, __. — He was looking at me. Actually seeing me. I could feel his gaze trying to find my low face. I turned to him. He’s expression was anxious. — Please, just tell me what’s happening and we’ll find a way to make it better. I promise I won’t judge you. —

— I am eating. — That lame lie was my last resource.

— Sweetheart. — He called me with a soft, reassuring, but almost pleading tone. He’s hand met my cheek with such love. I almost fell upon the floor and broke.

— Why are you asking me this? — And tears started to run down my face in frustration. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to tell him the real answer. That I felt ugly. Gross, even. Like I wasn’t worthy of he’s affection for how much space I would take.

As I cried, he just held me, firm but lovingly. My arms were pressed on my chest and my head rested between he’s shoulder and neck. My eyes were closed, I just hided my body inside he’s arms. “Oh wow, he’s arms fit around you? I would’ve sworn that wasn’t possible with how fat you are” my brain said. My thoughts were unbearable. I sobbed more. After I calmed down a little; he, without putting he’s arms away, asked me again. — What is happening? —

— I-I, — I couldn’t hold my breath still. He caressed my back up and down, breathing with me. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

— Better? — He asked me.

I just nodded. I felt childish crying like this in front of him, yet it felt so good. It felt like something stopped squeezing my heart.

— I just… — I didn’t even know how to explain it. — I feel gross when I eat. I guess I’m not actually fat, but I can’t stop feeling like I am every time I swallow something. — Another tear ran down my cheek, just one last.

He looked at me with concern, and something else, almost like pity; It was not, but it resembled it. He held me close again, and this time I hugged him back really tight, a desperate strength, reaching for security. As he felt that, he passed his fingers through my hair in a soothing manner, trying to calm me down.

— I know there’s nothing I can say to make u feel different, and you don’t know how much I wish I could tell you magic words to make all this feelings disappear. — He pulled away and bring both his hands to cup my face with such delicacy. — I just want you to know; really know, that you are beautiful. Not only to me, but for so many people we know. It’s not even because I’m your boyfriend. You’re actually beautiful, __. —

[arlertsdevotion]

I KNEW IT I KNEW YOU

pairing: levi ackerman x sunshine!reader

summary: levi and you are childhood friends, but when you have to leave town because of your father's work, he resigns on losing you. he doesn't know that many years later, life will find its way to lead him back to you.

contains: childhood friends to lovers, college au, grumpy x sunshine, yearner!levi, he fell first and harder, fluff, soft levi, short n sweet iykyk

words: 1.2k

a/n: hiii!!! first proper fic after years of not writing a complete chapter, so sorry if im a little rusty lol, hope u liked it!!! like and reblog if u want more <33

As soon as his last lecture ended, Levi immediately gathered his things up as he stood from his seat, wanting nothing other than going home to lay down to get a cup of tea and turn the heater on.

Shoes clicked against the floor as the rest of the classroom stood up to leave as well, caging him into the mass of people around as he neared the exit.

Levi got into his car and drove far away from campus. The day was crisp and chilly, but the sun shined bright despite it all.

The red traffic light stopped him on his tracks, so his gaze wondered somewhere else as he waited for the light to turn green again. He hadn't noticed until now, too enthralled in the thought of finally arriving to this apartment, but he had taken a different road than he usually did, so the sight of an unfamiliar street welcomed him.

His bright grey eyes narrowed, focusing on a small café on the corner, which read 'Fallen Angel' on warm beige cursive letters. It was still early, 1pm in the afternoon, but this weird sensation took hold of him again. He hesitated for a moment, but then the street light turned green and Levi's hands moved on their own, turning the steering wheel to the left.

Levi parked the car on the nearest parking spot he found and turned off the car's engine. He glanced sideways to the rearview mirror, wondering what was he truly doing, but ran a hand through his face and got out of the car nonetheless.

A strong smell of coffee greeted him when he opened the glass door and looked around. It was warm and cozy, a small but comforting four beige walls with a few sets of wooden tables and brown club chairs, full of plants and bookshelves with countless titles.

The coffee shop wasn't much crowded but wasn't empty either, three of the wooden tables were taken by groups of two and one of the two baristas behind the light-colored counter neared the cashier when she watched him approach.

"Good morning, what can I get for you?" the girl asked. Levi took a moment to glance at the menu, before he decided to order an americano and a croissant. "Perfect, that'll be 9 dollars, it'll be ready in a minute."

"Thank you," Levi nodded, handing the barista the money. He glanced around, only to end up going towards the table besides the closest bookshelf.

His fingers traced the spines of the books, carefully choosing to read the titles engraved when the café door opened once again. Levi was absent from the world, too focused on the warmth of the hard-book covers against his fingerprints but choose to briefly look up.

A girl not older than him with bright eyes entered the cafe, clutching her dark brown purse against her side as she went straight to the counter. Levi looked away but found his attention settling back to the girl.

She greeted the same barista who'd taken Levi's order, casually striking up a conversation with her like they were already familiar with each other.

"I don't know, Claire," the girl sighed "I ordered a chai frappe the last time but I want something saltier now. Or sweeter. I don't know," she shook her head, and Levi pretended he wasn't listening, too busy with the book titles. "Maybe an iced taro? No, I know, a caramel macchiato, that's it. With pistachio foam, please. I wanna try something new."

The barista laughed, like she was used to the girl's rambling. "Great choice, ____. Any pastry?"

"I just ate a huge burrito fifteen minutes ago, I don't think I can stomach anything else than a coffee, but thanks, babe."

"Sure."

Now that the conversation was over, Levi could hear the thumping of his heartbeat against his chest. Something rare striked within him, almost like familiarity, when he decided to finally look up.

His eyes widened when he got to properly catch sight of you. Every nerve on his body seemed to freeze, as his pulse spiked up and his stomach sommersaulted against his will. He had given up long ago on waiting for you, on being privileged enough to be near you once more, on watching that smile of yours, and he felt like a little kid again. A little kid with a big crush.

Apparently, he wasn't discrete enough with his staring because, almost like you were inevitably drawn to his staring, you looked up and froze as well, a huge smile breaking onto your lips as your eyes met Levi's.

"Levi? Is that you?" you laughed, walking towards him to get a good look of him. "It's been a long time, 'Vi, I can't believe it's you!"

"Hi." he breathed out, when you suddenly bumped into him for a hug. He froze once again, hands reaching into the air without touching you, surprised by the sudden hug and by catching glimpse of you after all these years. "Yeah, it's been a while."

When you broke the hug, warmth spread on his chest. You were standing there, smiling in the light of the window, a real person, not a figment of his imagination like you had been for the last few years.

"You still got that perpetually serious face, I can't believe I ever thought it would go away." you laughed, brushing a strand of hair from your face as you shook your head. "How are you?"

Right when Levi was about to answer, coming out of his shock, a voice called out. "Hot americano!"

"You should get that," you smiled, tilting your head to signal the counter.

Levi rushed to get the cup of coffee and his croissant before turning to get back to where you are standing a few feet away.

"I've been good. Busy with my degree," he answered, feeling like his tongue was depriving him of words. "What about you? When did you return to Trost?"

"At the beginning of the semester," you responded. "I got into this exchange program because I missed the quietness of this town. I tried to get ahold of you but I couldn't find you. It seems like we always find our way to each other, huh? That's funny." your eyes shined even brighter at the latest statement, searching for something in Levi's eyes. "You should give me your number," you stated, immediately starting to search for your phone on your purse. "Here."

Levi reached out for your cellphone, tapping the digits of his number in your keyboard before he returned it back to you, accidentally grazing his fingers with yours during the process.

You blinked twice, smile leaving your lips, before deciding to smile again like nothing flickered inside of you at the brief contact.

"Caramel macchiato with pistachio foam!" the barista called again, this time for your order.

You went to grab your coffee and returned back to Levi. You opened your mouth to say something else, when your phone rang in your hands. You looked down to your phone and sighed heavily.

"You don't know how sorry I am Levi, but I gotta go." you reached again for him, and this time, the hug was returned. You inhaled at the proximity, and the smell of his cologne washed over you.

"We should get coffee someday." Levi stated, separating from you.

"Yeah, we should." you smiled. "I'll see you later."

© arlertsdevotion do not copy or translate any of my work dividers by pixipix

[witchywithwhiskey]

giving him a baby for his birthday

steve rogers' birthday across the multiverse: dad's best friend steve rogers

pairing: dad's best friend!steve rogers x female reader

summary: at your parents' fourth of july party, you provoke a reaction from your dad's best friend.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), unspecified age gap, secret relationship, jealousy, smut, piv sex, possessive sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming, bratting/brat taming, breeding kink, dirty talk, daddy kink, pet names (sweetheart, baby), established relationship, happy ending

word count: 2.5k

a/n: the request for DBF Steve Rogers comes from @veltana and i'll be honest, i may have gotten a little carried away with this one 🤭 DBF Steve is just so dreamy and hot, it's not my fault this fic ended up longer than all the others. anyway, hope y'all enjoy!!

steve rogers' birthday across the multiverse masterlist

Dad’s best friend Steve Rogers spends his birthday being absolutely tortured by you at your parents’ Fourth of July party.

He’s warned you plenty of times that you need to be careful about your parents finding out about the two of you. If you dad learns of your relationship in the wrong way, it could irreparably damage their friendship, your relationship with your parents, and wreck your entire lives. 

Steve wants to protect you from that—and maybe he wants to keep you to himself just a little bit longer.

But he knows you’re growing impatient with him, and that’s made clear from the moment he walks into the backyard of your parents’ house to find you wearing the tiniest red, white and blue bikini. You’re chatting with some other girls from the neighborhood, so much of your beautiful skin on display, Steve can feel himself chub up in his swim trunks.

Using the case of beer and the bag of ice he brought to hide his growing bulge, Steve adjusts himself, forcing his eyes away from you and that skimpy, sinful bikini. He greets your dad and helps add the ice and beer to a cooler, catching up with his friend while diligently refusing to look in your direction.

However, as soon as your dad is gone, leaving Steve with a group of men their age, he can’t help but let his eyes find you in the small crowd milling about in the backyard. Your eyes are hidden behind a pair of sunglasses so he can’t see your full expression, but he’s certain the impertinent smirk on your face is for him. 

Steve drags his attention back to the conversation he’s in the middle of, but when your high-pitched shriek rings out, he nearly gets whiplash turning and looking for you to see what’s wrong. By the time his eyes find you, you’re already giggling, the glistening wetness of a spilled drink dripping on your skin, trailing between your tits and down to your navel. 

As he watches, you turn and jump into the pool to clean off, the rest of the girls and some guys your age joining in. Steve is unabashedly watching your every movement, grunting every once in a while to the people around him, thankful for the sunglasses he’s wearing so none of the men will know he’s staring at their host’s daughter.

He can feel himself growing hard again as he watches you splash about and laugh in the pool, playing some kind of game with the others. Steve’s control is beginning to weaken, and he’s just about to excuse himself to go into the house and cool off when a guy from the neighborhood—a guy Steve knows for a fact has asked you out before—swims up behind you and grabs your hips, lifting you up and tossing you into the water.

Red-hot rage and bitter jealousy swirls in Steve’s gut and before he can stop himself, he’s storming off, his bare feet pounding on the deck before he bursts through the sliding door to the kitchen. The door makes a satisfying thunk as he slams it behind him, and he sucks in a deep breath, trying to let the silence of the empty kitchen calm him. 

He tosses his empty beer bottle into the recycling beneath the sink and grips the counter hard enough he’s worried he’ll dent it or hurt his fingers. He can’t think straight, he can’t see straight. All he can see is another man’s hands on your body when it should be his hands on you. It should only ever be him touching you.

The quiet whoosh of the sliding door opening and closing brings Steve back to the moment, but he still clings to the counter. It’s the only thing stopping him from flying off the handle and doing something reckless—like hauling you into his arms and kissing you senseless in front of your parents and the entire neighborhood. 

His back is to the door, so he doesn’t notice you until you’re beside him, your hand skimming down his taut forearm until you can slip your fingers into his palm, pulling his grip away from the counter. He softens his grip so he doesn’t hurt you and turns to look at you.

Your eyes are sparkling with mischief, a self-satisfied smirk on your gorgeous mouth as you begin to tug him in the direction of the stairs leading up to the second story. “C’mon,” you murmur, your eyes darting to the door to make sure no one’s there. “Before someone sees us.”

Steve’s fury abates at the eagerness in your sweet voice, and the lust in your pretty face. Words stick in his throat. He wants to talk about the jealousy that had driven him inside, but his cock is urging him to give in to you. The desire to claim you is too strong, so he follows you upstairs and into a bedroom at one end of the hall. 

It only takes a single glance for Steve to realize it’s your childhood bedroom, with evidence of your life scattered everywhere, a few stuffed animals mixed in with posters and memorabilia of the music and movies you’d loved as a teenager. It should make him feel shameful, like a dirty old man trespassing in your room, but you haven’t lived here in a long time, so he’s only exasperated as he turns back to you.

“What’re we doing, sweetheart—” Steve’s question is cut off as you launch yourself at him. He easily catches you, your mouths sliding messily against each other in a sloppy, greedy kiss. 

Tumbling you down onto the bed, Steve covers your smaller body with his broad form and kisses you hard, pouring out all the frustration he’s felt this afternoon into you. His lips and teeth and tongue are punishing, hungrily devouring you until you’re moaning wantonly against his mouth. 

“You’re such a fucking tease,” he growls, his hands roaming your body, pushing your bikini top aside and groping your tits roughly, your skin cold and damp from the pool. He can feel your nipples harden beneath his palms, your back arching to push your tits into his big hands, and that just brings back his fury. “Is this what you wanted, sweetheart? Is this why you let that guy put his hands on you, to make me jealous and furious and fucking ravenous for you?”

You don’t even have the good grace to look repentant. A smirk curves your pretty, kiss-bitten mouth as you stare up at Steve. “Did it work?” you ask, raising a brow in challenge, reigniting the anger in Steve’s gut.

His only answer is a vicious growl, his hands yanking on the ties of your bikini bottoms until they come free. He tears the minuscule scrap of fabric away from your body like it’s offended him before doing the same with your top. 

Your hands are already fumbling with the front of his swim trunks, undoing the tie and shoving them down until his dick springs free. It slaps against your thigh softly, his precum leaking onto your skin, and Steve makes another possessive rumbling sound in his chest, liking the idea of marking you with his seed.

Steve makes quick work of yanking his shirt off, and then the two of you are naked. He suddenly remembers where you are, looking around at all the evidence of your early life, and he realizes again he should feel like a dirty old perv, but he can’t seem to bring himself to. 

Instead, he focuses back on you, fisting his cock and rubbing the tip up and down your dripping slit as a depraved grin spreads across his face. 

“Am I the first person to fuck you in your childhood bedroom, sweetheart?” he asks, his voice equal parts condescending and entreating. “Or were you sneaking boys up here when you were in high school, going all the way while your parents were just down the hall?”

You roll your eyes and make an impatient sound at the back of your throat, bucking your hips to try to take Steve’s cock inside your pussy, but he pulls it away. Using his grip on the base, he smacks the heavy head of his dick against your clit, making you twitch and moan beneath him. 

“Be honest,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble, pushing the tip of his cock into your tight cunt before pulling back and leaving you empty. “Be honest with me, sweetheart.” 

“No,” you cry, your eyes blinking away tears of frustration to meet his gaze. You’re petulant and pouty, but finally answer his questions. “You’re the only one I’ve ever snuck up here, Steve.”

Steve stares at you for a moment, trying to discern if you’re telling him the truth or just trying to appease the jealous beast inside him so he’ll fuck you. When he decides you’re being honest, Steve lets loose his most charming grin, notching his cock at the entrance of your pussy and thrusting inside until he’s buried balls deep in the tight, perfect sheath of you cunt.

“DADDY!” you scream, so loud it nearly gives Steve a heart attack. 

He slaps a hand over your mouth, growling reproachfully in your ear, “Baby.” His breath is sawing in and out of him, and he’s barely keeping it together, because your wet, warm pussy is gripping his bare cock tight. All he wants to do is fuck you into next week, but he knows he has to be the responsible one. “Be careful,” he warns. “We can’t get caught.”

You’re nodding, fat tears spilling down your cheeks, and when he’s sure you won’t scream again, Steve relents and pulls his hand from your mouth. “I’m sorry, daddy,” you blubber, sounding truly repentant.

Steve sighs, gently kissing the tears from your cheeks. “I know, baby, I know,” he murmurs soothingly. “You just love my cock that much, don’t you?” His tone turns teasing and before he knows it you’re giggling and nodding, agreeing with him, a happy smile on your pretty face. “You can be quiet for daddy, can’t you?” he asks, just to be sure.

“Yes, daddy,” you chirp sweetly, and Steve has to wonder why you can’t be this agreeable all the time. It would make his life easier.

But, Steve realizes, then he might not love you as much. Because, to him, you’re perfect exactly the way you are. Overcome by emotion, Steve ducks his head and captures your mouth, pouring his feelings into the kiss as he begins to fuck you.

Steve knows the two of you have already been gone from the party for too long, and every stolen moment you both risk someone coming to look for you, so he doesn’t bother to take his time. He fucks you hard and fast, pounding into your cunt raw, and it’s the thought of having nothing between you that sends him careening quickly toward his release, words spilling unbidden from his lips.

“Gonna fill you up, baby—gonna pump you full of so much cum, you’re gonna be leaking daddy’s seed for the rest of the day,” he groans, loving the feeling of your tight cunt squeezing him so perfectly.

“Oh god, please, daddy,” you squeal, your voice thin as you try to stay quiet like Steve asked. “Fill me, claim me—I’m yours, daddy.”

“You are, aren’t you, sweetheart?” Steve asks, the question rhetorical. Then suddenly, a need strikes him and he can’t stop himself even if he’d wanted to try. “Mine to breed.”

A cry bursts from your lips, you pussy clenching hard around Steve’s cock, and he knows you like the sound of that just as much as he does. So he goes on, pure filth spilling from his lips and straight into your ears.

“Want daddy to put a baby in you, sweetheart?” Steve growls, his voice half mocking, half serious. “Want me to knock you up in your childhood bedroom? There’ll be no hiding that you belong to me anymore if I do—I’ll have to put a ring on your finger and tell everyone you’re mine.”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, Steve, oh my god, yes,” you cry, your thighs clenching tight around his hips, your legs winding around his waist and holding him tight against your body, until he can only rut into you with short, deep strokes. “Knock me up, daddy. Wanna give you a baby—please, please, please, I want it.”

“Gonna give you a baby for my birthday,” Steve growls, his mind half gone from the sheer pleasure of your tight warm cunt gripping his bare cock. He fucks you harder, grinding deep between your thighs to rub against your clit. “Gonna make you all mine, baby—forever.”

Steve watches you unravel from his words and his cock, pleasure stealing the breath from your lungs so you can only let out a silent scream. You clench tight around his cock, and he’s lost. He cums deep in your cunt, spilling his seed right against your cervix while your pussy milks him dry, hoping like hell it’ll take root in your womb.

He’s barely caught his breath before you’re kissing him sweetly, your arms wrapped around his shoulders and holding him tight. His arms dig beneath your back, clutching you just as close. 

“Can we tell my parents about us now?” you ask, your voice deceptively innocent. 

Steve has to laugh, dropping his head to your shoulder as he chuckles against your skin, still damp and cool from your dip in the pool. He presses a kiss against your clavicle, making peace with the fact that he’s completely in love with a sweet, manipulative menace. Then he lifts his head and gives you a stern look.

“Did you do all of this to convince me it’s time we tell them about our relationship?” he asks, even though he already knows you did. It’s taking all his energy not to let loose the grin that’s tugging on his lips while you continue to play innocent.

You give him a too casual shrug and Steve has his answer before you even open you’re mouth. “Well, we should probably tell them before you knock me up,” you say, raising a brow in a sardonic expression. “I think it might make them way more mad if we don’t tell them until after you’ve gotten me pregnant.”

Steve knows you’re right, and he’ll admit that to you later, but for the moment he can only kiss you and be grateful you hadn’t given up on him for dragging his feet and keeping your relationship a secret for so long. 

He’ll give you what you want by telling your parents about the two of you, and then he’s going to knock you up and put a ring on your finger—maybe not in that order, although he’s not sure if he can help himself.

Still, in that moment, with his cock still buried deep in your body, his seed seeping out of your well-fucked cunt, he makes a vow to himself. Steve Rogers is determined to put a baby in you before his next birthday, and if that means telling your parents about your relationship as soon as possible, then so be it.

thank you for reading! comments and reblogs are appreciated! ♡

steve rogers' birthday across the multiverse masterlist

[jinjinjelly]

Tears Run Down My Thighs (when did you get hot?) | Armin Arlert x Reader

18+ only!! Minors do not interact!!

Ao3 Version, Wattpad Version

Divider from @/firefly-graphics! Pairing: college AU, Nerd!Armin x Pervert!Reader (AFAB, gender-neutral pronouns) Wordcount: 23k (oops) Summary: You've always liked your best friend Armin, and you did a pretty good at hiding it. Any time you thought of him sexually, you would simply reset and erase the thoughts from memory. But when he comes back from the summer looking ... nerdier, you can't seem to get him out of your head. Surely, your methods will still work, right? Warnings: lots of sexual fantasies and female masturbation, multiple orgasms, reader is down bad for nerdmin, oral sex (m and f receiving), nipple play/licking, motorboating(?), unprotected sex, creampie, come eating and swallowing, mentions of alcohol and partying

A/N: I seem to have a theme of writing sexual fantasies, but this is my first time actually writing a sex scene. Yippee! I tried to keep this fic as inclusive as I could, so while the reader has female anatomy, their pronouns are gender-neutral. I also did not include Y/N or nicknames in this story, as I'm not a personal fan of either. Please let me know if I made any mistakes regarding this. This story was inspired by fanart made by @mochikuyo on Twitter. For some reason the specific order of short-haired Armin to nerdy Armin sparked something in my brain, and here we are a month and half later. Links should also be included where referenced in the story if you want to check it out! Also peep the double Sabrina song title lol

You're a disgusting pervert.

…

Okay, that sounds like you need to be put on some government watch list. Technically, you weren't doing anything outwardly creepy, let alone illegal.

The context is this: You were crushing on your best friend, Armin. Hard.

Technically, you always had feelings for him. It was difficult not to, honestly. One day he was your partner for a class project, the next your study buddy, and now you could barely remember him as anything other than your best friend.

However, somewhere along the way, between stolen glances and late night conversations masked under the guise of study sessions, you started to become aware of the fluttering in your chest.

For the longest time, it was a harmless crush: the type that wasn't worth pursuing and risking your friendship over. Unless Armin made it ridiculously obvious that he had similar feelings, any infatuation you had was quickly buried. You eventually grew used to it, and life went on as normal.

That's not to say the want for more didn't sometimes gnaw at you.

Last year, when you first met Armin, he had finished his summer internship in California, and the beach environment was evident in his look. He had a glowing tan for months, which paired wonderfully with his short, blond hair and his open button-ups that flowed in the breeze (you especially liked his blue one; it made his eyes sparkle and look like the ocean he had grown so fond of). One time, his white undershirt was a bit on the thin side, and you caught a faint outline of his abs every time he stretched. You distinctly remember how warm you felt at the sight, and the impulsive urge to risk it all and kiss him silly afterward.

You also remember stomping out the compulsion like an ember. At the time, you had just become friends. This was the second hangout you had that wasn't at some school building or coffee shop. The last thing you wanted Armin to think was that you've been lusting over him this whole time, especially if he saw your relationship as purely platonic.

From then on, any time you caught yourself thinking about him for too long, you immediately stopped your fantasies then and there. These lapses were few and far in between, so you didn't worry very much over your lack of judgment. A quick reset, and it was like the thought never occurred.

But then summer came and went again, and you soon realized how utterly fucked you were.

During the long break, rather than spend another hot summer in California, Armin got an opportunity to study marine biology in the South Pole. He was fascinated with the extremophiles found in the area, and was over the moon when he got accepted to intern at one of the research centers there.

There were some downsides, however. Namely, the difficulties in communication. While he wasn't going completely silent, between the lack of reception and busy schedule, his replies were likely to be on the sparse side. Armin profusely apologized for this, but you laughed it off and reassured him that it was fine.

"Seriously, Min, don't feel sorry. This is literally your dream. You'll probably be enjoying yourself too much to even worry about that. We'll see each other soon enough, alright?"

"Yeah, I know that," he sighs, a shy smile forming. "The opportunity is great and all, I just think— I just think I'll miss you a lot."

You smile back , ignoring the way your heart skipped a beat.

As expected, contact over those twelve weeks were limited. You shared the major events, like when you visited your family or when Armin stumbled upon a waddle of penguins while working, but even those messages felt bittersweet, distorted due to the separation.

The whole break, a part of you was itching to go back to school. Stressful as it is, at least your friend wouldn't be in another continent. One by one, as the summer came to a close, your friends started arriving and coming back to campus, the college town growing louder by the day. Hangouts and bar outings were back on the docket, but they felt lackluster when the person you wanted most wasn't at any of them.

Why did there have to be limited transportation out of Antarctica? Do you have to promote this place as the next big tourist spot just so you could make them have a regular flight schedule?

Eventually, when everyone was mostly accounted for, your friends decided to throw a party the weekend before classes. Connie, Jean, and Marco were the only group that had a townhouse rather than an apartment, and were more than willing to use their space to welcome everyone back.

You were also very much looking forward to the party too: not only could you catch up with everyone, but this would be your first time seeing Armin since the spring. His flight arrived only a few hours ago, so tonight was the perfect opportunity to talk about your summers, no longer constricted to texts and awkward emails.

However, what you didn't think to consider is how much a person can change in twelve weeks. Specifically, how much a person can physically change in that time.

If your messages with Armin were scarce, photos and videos were practically nonexistent, so when he first walks into the house party, you don't fully comprehend that it's him. Rather than hair that cuts cleanly in the back, you're met with long hair that covers his ears and brushes his neck, and small, rectangular-framed glasses that draw you into a pair of familiar, blue eyes. It's a moment of confusion, followed by a moment of recognition, and finally a moment of realization.

You liked this look. A lot. Maybe even too much.

You don't notice that you're staring, not until Eren swoops Armin into a bro hug and drags him to the kitchen. You keep watching him until he rounds the corner, unsure if he notices you and your hot stare.

How would his long hair feel in your fingers? To play with it while you kiss—

Nope. Reset.

You don't give yourself the chance to finish the thought, ejecting yourself from whatever fantasy you were about to have. You take several gulps of your cup, letting out a slow exhale after you swallow. The drink burns the whole way down. While you originally scolded Sasha and her habit of overpouring, you were grateful for the buzz you were surely going to feel soon.

Something you failed to consider, however, was the amount of drinking games you would get roped into, and apparently how bad you were at all of them. If you thought your drink was bad, the last two losing cups were borderline stomach-churning. You're ninety percent sure someone added pickle juice in that last cup.

Luckily, you're still sensible enough to tap out of the next round, only stumbling a few times while walking out towards the patio. For the most part, the backyard looks empty. There must have been a group out here earlier though, judging by the dying flames in the fire pit.

You close your eyes and focus on the smoke wafting in the air. Compared to the drinks you were having, it smelled like heaven. With a sigh of relief, you open your eyes and slump onto the nearest lawn chair. It's comfortable enough, for the most part. If you were drunker, you could easily fall asleep here for an hour or two, though the last time someone (Reiner) did that, someone else (Ymir) drew a penis on their face, so maybe it was for the best.

It doesn't take long for your solitude to be broken. You barely register the footsteps creeping up behind you, too lost watching the fire in front of you.

"Hey," a voice you knew all too well says. You look up to see Armin smiling as he slides into the seat next to you. "Mikasa told me I'd find you here. Heard you lost the last two rounds of boom cup." You can hear the smirk in his words as he takes a sip from his cup.

"Their table sucks. Ping pong balls wouldn't bounce for shit," you grumble.

"Well, you probably just kept bouncing them into puddles of beer like last time."

"… maybe." Definitely.

"At least you quit while you were ahead," he offers. "I saw Connie pour soy sauce into last round's cup."

The image makes you swallow back a gag. The alcohol in your stomach sloshes around, a wave of nausea overtaking you. Armin must catch the grimace on your face, because he quickly apologizes and extends his cup to you. You shake your head, declining the idea of having more to drink.

A hand grabs your wrist and you stop your motions. You're suddenly aware of how close Armin has gotten, his body leaning into yours. He pushes the cup into your open palm, and your fingers instinctively lace around the plastic.

"Don't worry, it's just water. I stopped drinking a while ago," Armin says. Once you have a firm hold, he takes his hands away and relaxes back into his chair. You try to ignore the feeling left behind on your wrist. "You seem like you need it more than me."

"Yeah, probably. Thanks," you croak.

You look down at Armin's (now yours, technically) drink, noticing a mark on the rim closest to your mouth. There's a faint shine to it when it catches the light from the fire, similar to a lip gloss stain. It was no doubt from Armin and the chapstick he always wore: he had a terrible habit of picking at his lips and licking them afterward. The waxy smudge probably had his spit mixed into it.

Without a second thought, you bring your lips to the cup, matching them to exactly where Armin's once were.

An indirect kiss.

Your sips are slow, to not upset your stomach or to keep your mouth on the cup for longer, you're not sure. The chapstick isn't flavored, but you wonder if it would taste different if you caught it from Armin's mouth directly. If his lips would feel rough underneath the greasy layer, and if his tongue would work into your mouth, licking with the same fervor he uses against his own. If your tongue met his, would you be able to taste the liquor that didn't get washed away?

Stop. Reset. What the hell is wrong with you?

You grip the drink, the plastic denting and making a loud pop noise. Tilting your head back, you proceed to chug the rest of the water, possible stomachache be damned. You finish the cup with a soft groan. Were you always this easily aroused when drunk?

Armin clears his throat. You snap your head back toward him, almost forgetting he was watching you the entire time. He's looking at you with slight worry and confusion.

Shit, how long did you space off for?

"Uh, guess I was thirstier than I realized. Sorry," you say.

"It's okay," he reassures. His stare feels more calculating than observing. You can't tell if he actually believes you. "I've been meaning to find you for a while. I was going to right when I came over, but Eren kept dragging me around."

You snort, the awkwardness quickly fading. "Sounds like he missed you." You knew the feeling. "How did you end up getting away?"

"He's currently arguing with Jean about whether you can make tea in a microwave. Got pretty heated, no pun intended, and I slipped away in the middle of it."

You weren't surprised at the news. The two of them always get into some weird debate at these things. Assuming that they're both drunk, and they probably are, you give it another ten minutes before they're crying into each other's arms and profusely apologizing. Their relationship was weird like that.

"And before that?" you ask. "Did you have a good time?"

Armin hums in consideration before answering, "I'd say so. Nice to see everyone before the school year starts. Reiner's pretty wasted, though. He thought I was Historia when I first said hi to him. That was … something." There's a wince at that particular memory. "I guess I do look a bit different, so I don't really blame him."

You let yourself look at him, your blinks slow and heavy in your inebriated state. His hair shines in the faint light and looks soft to the touch. Some strands look a bit wild, messy from the antics of the night. It was candid. Boyish.

Thoughts from earlier resurface, and your fingers twitch in want. You catch the action, and promptly dig your fists into your lap.

"I suppose being MIA all summer doesn't help either. Not that you could really do anything about that," you eventually respond. "Do you at least like it? The haircut?"

"No strong opinions, to be honest." He pauses, tilting his head and mulling it over. "It just kinda happened, really. There's not exactly any barbershops over there, and it was nice to have something to cover my ears so they wouldn't freeze." Armin tucks a piece of hair behind his ear at the memory, like he just figured out he doesn't need to worry about that anymore.

"Clothes were a similar story. Sweaters got a bit bulky under all the layers, so it was easier to wear a thermal and some vest over it." He motions down to his current outfit: a t-shirt for some punk band Mikasa probably got him into over a white, wrinkled long-sleeve. "This was my attempt at a summer-friendly version of it. I think it's growing on me though, what do you think?"

You look good, you think to yourself. You look so good. You were always attractive and handsome but right now you're making me go crazy and—

"It suits you." Images of you kissing Armin's neck and sucking bruises into his collarbones so they're barely peeking over his shirt now plague your mind. "You should keep the haircut too." Hopefully he doesn't catch your selfish intentions.

Armin smiles at your praise and looks away from you in slight embarrassment. It's short-lived as he catches the time on his watch and says, "It's getting late, do you want a ride home? I just had the one drink from earlier, so I'm good to head out."

A part of you wants to say no. Take a breather and properly reset your hormonal brain. On the other hand, a free ride is a free ride.

You quietly agree with a nod. Soon enough, you're sitting in the passenger seat, a mix of sleepy and tipsy settling in your bones. You watch Armin as he reverses out of the driveway and pulls onto the main road. A car from the opposite lane passes by, and the bright headlights shine through your window and send a glare across his glasses.

"I never realized you wore glasses," you murmur, almost like it's some secret between you two. "How long have you had them?"

Armin shrugs. "A while. Sometime in middle school, I think."

"So what? You just never wear them? Are you walking around blind all day?"

That makes him laugh. "Usually just wear contacts, but I can read most things if they're close. I see most things perfectly fine, if that's what you're worried about."

You huff at his teasing. "I guess I just don't see why you never wore them in the first place. Seems like it be easier to."

"It kind of depends, really. During the summer, my glasses would fog up outside, so I wore contacts. But the cold made my contacts dry out my eyes, so I wore glasses whenever I was working inside. I haven't gotten around to grabbing more contacts yet—"

"I like them. Your glasses." You turn away from him, too timid to look at him while you make your confession. "They … they look really good on you."

A blush creeps up Armin's neck. "Oh. Uh, thanks. That's nice … that's nice to know."

The rest of the ride is silent. Mortification sets in; curse your drunkenness and loose lips. You shouldn't have said anything, but your body must have panicked. An ugly, possessive part of you wanted him to know, to know how attractive he was with his glasses. That you would pray to some higher being for him to ditch the contacts altogether.

Would his glasses fog up if you kissed him? If your hot breaths met his needy pants? He would be blindsided as you dragged him closer into your face, moaning into his mouth as you gently pushed his bangs away from his eyes. You could peck the tips of his cheek before moving further back, nipping his earlobe and kissing the space behind, making him let out a whine. When you pull back, his glasses would be slightly askew, his face all the more flustered.

Stop. Eject. Abort. Literally anything. Just stop it.

You will your mind to turn off whatever sick television is playing up there. Your body doesn't get the same message, however. As you tense, physically trying to reset yourself, your legs press together and squeeze. The complete opposite effect happens and you ache from the pressure. You press your thighs together a tad harder and shift your weight forward, almost rocking into the pleasure. A particular bump in the road makes you clench down.

Fuck, what is wrong with you? Why can't you stop thinking about him?

The car thuds into a stop, and you hear the click of the door unlocking when Armin puts it into park. It makes you focus back into reality, a quiet gasp leaving your lips. Your legs relax and pull away from each other.

"You okay?" Armin asks.

You quickly nod. "Mhmm." A light cough escapes your throat. "Still a bit out of it, I guess."

"Right, yeah, of course. Here, I'll help walk you to your place," he offers, ever the gentleman. You should've known better.

"You know what? I suddenly feel a lot better. Fully sober, even." You sound like a frat guy being pulled over by a cop. Your hand is on the door handle and you're making a break for it before he can unbuckle his seatbelt. "I'll be okay. Thanks though."

You're only a few feet away before he calls your name, the window now rolled down. "Let me know when you're free. We should hang out and catch up … I've missed you," he says. Even when he's shouting out his car, there's something about his voice that's still so gentle. Almost fond. When you turn around to face him, you're met with wide eyes and an expectant smile.

Guilt hits you. At the end of the day, Armin was your friend. The long distance was just as evident for him as it was for you. He's trying to make up for lost time, the same as you before you started spiraling out. The least you can do is meet him halfway.

"I missed you too," you reply, voice just as affectionate. Armin looks relieved, his smile more relaxed. "Thanks again for the ride. I'll text you when I'm home."

He nods. You say your goodbyes and Armin watches you go inside before driving. A short walk up the stairs later, you enter your apartment, do a half-ass job of washing your face and brushing your teeth, and climb into the comfort of your bed.

It was an off night. A true reset with eight hours of uninterrupted sleep will do the trick, you think. Partying with all your friends that you haven't seen for months, combined with the buzz still circulating in your body, was bound to lead to heightened emotions. Now that you're home, you'll feel relaxed and refreshed in no time. You repeat these affirmations in your head as you let your eyes shut.

By what seems to be the hundredth repeat, you start to lose it. Checking the time on your phone, more than half an hour has passed, and you groan in frustration. Your body feels nowhere near relaxed.

At that exact moment, your phone buzzes in your hand. A text.

[Armin 🌊]

I'm guessing you're probably asleep or something, but I just wanted to say it was nice to see you tonight! Even if it was only for a little bit lol

Are you free Tuesday? I need to write a reflection paper on my internship this summer, so I was thinking of hanging at the library if you wanted to join. I know it's only the first week, but I figured the company would be nice. Let me know if you're free!

Have a good night :)))

God, was his texting always this cute? Of course you would say yes. Armin could ask you to help clean his bathroom, and you'd be ready with a bucket and scrubber in hand.

You text back a quick yes and goodnight before tossing your phone onto your nightstand and landing back into your pillow with a grunt. Why were you being so weird with him right now? Just because Armin looks different (hot), doesn't mean your relationship with him has changed. You were friends and nothing more.

The same heightened emotions from the party probably just made your feelings for him go into some weird overdrive. Prior to tonight, none of your daydreams have ever been so physical. So, well, freaky.

It wasn't fair of you to act like this. To push him away because you can't keep it in your pants. But your reset methods clearly aren't working, so you needed a new approach. At least right now.

…

Oh.

The answer is obvious, isn't it?

"Goddammit," you grumble to no one. Were you seriously considering masturbating to your best friend? That was completely invasive. Your friendship was built on mutual respect and appreciation of one another. It would be wrong to use their trust like that.

… Then again, wouldn't it be respectful to get your horniness out of the way before it affected your friendship?

Your counterargument, combined with the fact that it's two in the morning and your roommate is staying the night at her girlfriend's, is enough to get you to shimmy out of your shorts.

If you're going to actually go through with this, might as well let yourself indulge in some of your fantasies.

You think back to what would have happened if you stayed in the car, if you didn't panic and leave. Maybe in another world, if you were a bit more confident and you were sure that Armin felt the same way, you wouldn't have ran. Maybe you would have went toward him instead, climbing out of your seat and leaning over the car console.

Inches away from wide eyes and parted lips, you'd close the distance and offer a gentle kiss. Something to test the waters, to see if he wanted more. He lets you tip your weight onto him, steadying you with one hand on your shoulder blade and the other balancing the both of you on the seat of his chair. When he doesn't back away, you let yourself deepen the kiss, cupping his cheek as you work his mouth open.

Your other hand would trail down his body, starting from his slim shoulders down to his firm chest, finally stopping at his soft thighs. You rub the inner part of his leg and swallow the whimper that escapes his throat. It's all the assurance you need to bring your fingers higher up, grazing his crotch.

You let one of your hands travel under your shirt and cup your breast, the same hand that fantasy you is using to palm Armin's length. Your thumb brushes against your nipple, the bud quickly hardening under your attention. You switch to your other breast as you let your mind wander.

With your fingers skimming across his stirring cock, giving it the bare minimum pressure to work himself into a fuss, Armin's kisses start to grow slow and sloppy, barely keeping up with your hungry lips.

He pulls his face away from you with a soft moan and dips it into the crook of you neck. His breath warms your skin as he utters a whiny, "please," and lets his hand drag down your back and settle right above your ass. You give his now hard dick a sure squeeze, and you smoothly climb over the gearshift in the time it takes to let out a desperate groan.

Your fingers find the band of your underwear, stretching and playing with the elastic. You travel lower and cup the heat radiating through the fabric. The tip of your middle finger presses into your folds, making you hum at the sensation. You stroke the entrance of your slit and feel the dampness soaking your panties.

Guess you don't really need foreplay when you've been blue-balling yourself for more than a year.

You pull your underwear to the side, the air chilling on your exposed pussy. Taking your same finger from earlier, you pump your knuckles into the warm muscle. You clench hard on your digit as you whimper in desperation. You add another finger to relieve the ache, groaning at the fullness. A particular curl of your fingertips nearly knocks your knees together and you have to remind yourself to keep breathing.

With your legs settled on either side of Armin's, your cunt sits perfectly on top of his boner as you start a desperate, dirty grind against his length. The motion jostles his arm and makes his hand lower, hovering over the swell of your ass. His broken moans come out uncertain, unsure of what's happening and what he should be doing.

A forceful yank of his wrists pulls his hands right where you want them, and he grabs your ass with a needy squeeze.

It doesn't take long until Armin's practically shaking under you, gripping you like a lifeline as you continue to rock your hips to meet his. His attempts at kissing your collarbones are messy and consist mostly of licking the skin and the occasional light nip when the tip of his dick feels your movements.

You tilt his chin to sit below your sternum. A brush of his bangs exposes his forehead, and you leave a kiss on the skin before you push your shoulders and trap Armin's head between your chest. He shamelessly wails at the contact, letting himself be smothered by your tits.

A heat bubbles low in your stomach. You're so close already, your limit fast approaching. The emptiness when you pull out your slick fingers makes you whine, but when you start massaging your clit, the noise quickly dissipates into a choked-out gasp.

You cover your mouth with your palm, trapping the air escaping your lips. It's a futile attempt at silence: the sounds of you smearing your arousal are lewd, echoing in the quiet of your apartment. Even with no one else home, you're left feeling shameful and dirty. Yet that makes you all the more horny.

A particular flick against your clit makes you clench down hard. Everything felt like too much and not enough. You bring your fingers back down and give your needy cunt something to throb on. A tightness grows above your cervix after a few pumps, and you pull out to frantically rub your clit.

"Oh fuck—oh god. Please let me come, please, please, please," a voice rumbles against your heart.

The thought of Armin coming in his pants makes your eyes shut tight as you ride your high. You bite the skin of your palm that still covers your mouth and stutter out short pants, your body twitching under the waves of pleasure.

You don't think you've ever came so hard so fast before. Several seconds are lost from your memory as your vision turns white, and your lower body jerks at the aftershocks. When you move your fingers away from your abused clit, you wince, the area now sensitive.

Clarity comes after your pulse slows down, the realization of what you just did sinking deep in your gut. You grimace when you can feel the stain your wetness left on the bedsheets when you shift your body, and it takes you longer than it should to clean yourself and change your underwear. Your motions are hesitant, embarrassed even if there's no one to see the events that transpired.

But again, this was a one-time thing.

Probably.

Hopefully.

When you're back in your bed, you hate how sated your body feels, and how quickly sleep finds you soon after.

The floor of the library vibrates under your foot. Your leg has been incessantly bouncing for the past ten minutes; you'd be surprised if you didn't leave a dent in the carpet.

A few days have passed since your … incident. That following morning, you woke up with a surge of energy and determination. You were drunk, had some pent up emotions, and masturbated them out. Things could be normal again.

Then again, you have yet to test this theory. Since the party, Armin's been busy unpacking or submitting papers to get class credit for his summer research. The texts you've sent one another in the meantime seemed normal enough. It may have taken twice the time for you to send them, double-checking each message before hitting send because you were paranoid you would say something along the lines of "I jerked off to the idea of us dry humping in your car", but still.

Today was the true test. The two of you agreed to meet at the library after your classes, with your last class ending a few minutes earlier than expected. You were hoping the extra time would give you a chance to steady yourself, but no matter how hard your leg bounces, the nerves can't seem to be shaken out. The end of your pen starts getting abused as your thumb continuously clicks against the spring, however it's short-lived when you notice the nasty side-eye from the grad student working the front desk.

"I don't think I've ever seen the library this empty before," a voice beside you says. Armin proceeds to slide into the seat across from you, ruffling his hair away from his face. You exercise restraint and look away, suddenly finding your notebook interesting. So far, so good.

"No one's exactly studying on the second day of classes. Unless you're, you know, a nerd," you smirk.

"Well you're the one who agreed to hang out with a nerd. So what does that make you?"

Fucking whipped. Some creep that's potentially edging themselves by being near you. "A good friend, obviously."

Armin hums. "Can't argue with that." He stares at the notebook in front of you, the page still freshly blank. "Do you have anything you're working on? I'd hate to bore you while I work."

"Not really, but it's okay, I could always look ahead. Or play minesweeper if I feel lazy," you shrug, both of you knowing the latter was more likely. "How's your work coming along?"

"It's just busy work, really. I just need to explain what I did over the summer and what I learned, so it shouldn't be too hard. They just need proof that I actually did something worth earning credit for."

He opens his laptop and starts settling into the space. His long, slender fingers rapidly type across his keyboard faster than your eyes can comprehend. The dexterity leaves you mildly impressed, wondering how they move against your clit.

Stop it. Get a grip.

"—uh, you know," you start, drawing a stop to Armin's motions. "You never really got to tell me what you did over there. At least not the specifics."

"Oh." His eyes widen, staring at you like a lost puppy. It's entirely too endearing. "I didn't think anyone would care that much."

That leaves a sour taste in your mouth. While you did have ulterior motives to your question, wanting to use it as a distraction from your impure thoughts, you also wanted to hear about his passions. In what world would Armin ever be boring?

"Of course I would care. You seemed really excited to go there, I could only imagine it was like a dream come true. I want to know everything."

"Okay. Well, if you're sure,"—Armin sits up, face relaxing into a soft smile—"So there's still a lot that's unknown regarding the world and its microbial diversity, but that's what makes it super cool. We can be one of the first to research it, which is also kind of frustrating, since there's so much information to look at and few references to compare it to, but it's crazy to see how these organisms thrive in climates that we find uninhabitable. If we can learn how they're able to survive, we can apply it to so many different things to improve people's lives. We could slow down the spoilage of food to aid starving communities; preserve stem cells and embryos; prevent hypothermia during medical procedures."

His hands are waving all over the place, words coming out a mile a minute. "And even if we can't apply these functions to our world, it's still really interesting. We also went along the peninsula to find these micro-animals called tardigrades in the moss cushions, they're honestly pretty cute. I mean, you have to see them through a microscope and then some special imaging to get a good illustration of them, but still cute nonetheless."

You always liked the way Armin explained things: passionate, never condescending, always detail-oriented. It was one of the main reasons why you wanted to keep studying with him: even as the semesters pass, and the two of you no longer have any shared classes, you still find yourself captivated in what he has to say.

But never had his words made your mouth water. That shouldn't have been as hot as it was, and have you been staring at his mouth this whole time? You nearly choke on your spit when you swallow.

"Oh! I could show them to you, if you want," Armin continues. "There was a section about them in this one biochemistry book I looked at before my internship. It had a cool visual of the types of environments they were found in too."

"Mhmm, sure." You had no idea what he just said. When he starts getting up from his chair and motions you to follow you, you move without a second thought.

Fucking whipped.

The science section is further back in the library than you expected. It seems like you pass every subject before Armin stops at a particular shelf. You can't tell if the old smell is coming from the wood of the shelf or the yellowing papers. Probably both.

It was so quiet in this section. Even when classes pick up, you doubt many students travel this deep into the building.

God, the things you could do to him here without anyone noticing.

No, fuck. Stop. Are you seriously going to get horny in the middle of the library?

You force yourself to read the titles on the shelves. You get to a textbook titled Supramolecular Chemistry: Fundamentals and Applications when Armin mutters to himself, "It's either on this shelf or the one above it ..." He's tracing his finger across the book spines, rapidly scanning each title on the shelf that's eye-level to him. "Not here …"

Armin proceeds to go one shelf up and start searching. Unbeknownst to him, his shirt rides up and exposes the lower half of his stomach.

Great. As if the repeat of the long sleeve and t-shirt combo wasn't torture enough.

Your eyes lock on to the bare skin like a Victorian man seeing ankles. His stomach looks muscular yet soft, you can almost see the faint divot of his belly button at the top. Looking further down, his jeans are slung low on his hips, the band of his green, plaid boxers peeking out of the denim. But what really gets you is the vertical line that connects the two.

Dark blond, nearly brown hair travels from his navel and disappears underneath his boxers. It's probably only a centimeter or two wide, the hairs straggly and zigzagging ever so slightly down. It's the sexiest thing you've ever seen in your life.

You want to push him against the shelf hard enough to make the near-rotting wood splinter. You want to give him a searing kiss to his parted lips and slacked jaw before getting on your knees for him. You want to yank the zipper of his pants down with such force that it nearly rips off the teeth. You want to follow the hair down and see if it darkens around the base of his cock.

Jesus Christ, what is happening to you? Look away. Now.

You don't listen. You're too far gone.

The show continues as you picture yourself nuzzling the happy trail while kissing the skin above his underwear. Armin's looking at you with wide eyes as he lets out a choked gasp. He looks like he wants to tell you to stop, but there's something about the way his eyes glaze over and how nostrils flare that makes you think he wants you to keep going.

A harsh pull on his clothes frees his growing cock. You savor the moment and give gentle kisses up his length, feeling him harden after each peck. A wet lick across his tip makes Armin groan and brace himself on the nearest books behind him. You swallow the bitterness of his precome and moan at the taste. Without warning, you suck his length into your mouth, letting your tongue drag against the underside.

Armin sinks into the shelf with a gasp as saliva pools and leaks past your lips. The messy sounds of your sucking grows, and a choking noise echoes loudly in the room. You're desperate to take every inch of Armin down your throat, and his poorly muffled moans only spur you on. His knuckles whiten as his grip on the shelf tightens, but it's a feeble attempt at restraint when he's subconsciously thrusting himself deeper into your mouth.

When you come up for a breather, you press a sweet kiss right below his belly button, letting the drool dripping down your chin soak the hair beneath it. It matches perfectly with the wet patch smeared around his base. Your hand jerks his slick cock and you can feel him twitch in your palm. You can't decide if you want to swallow his warm load or spit it into the mess you already created.

"Here it is, someone didn't shelve it right. How hard is it to follow the LCC system?" Armin pulls the book down with an exasperated sigh. "Give me a second to find the sect—are you okay?"

You look like a nervous chihuahua. Your shoulders are pulled tight toward your body and your eyes are bulging out of their sockets. You don't think you've been breathing for past twenty seconds.

You feel guilty. Wrong. You need to get out of here before you melt onto the floor.

"Sorry," you barely muscle out. "I just realized that I promised Sasha that I would help her with her uh … laundry."

Armin lowers the book down, closing it between his thumb. "Her laundry?"

"Yep. Poor Sash, sometimes she just doesn't know when to wash and when to … dry."

"… Huh?"

What the hell are you talking about?

"Anyway! I should really get going, don't want her to ruin her clothes and all that. Check out that book and I'll look at it next time, alright?"

"Uh, yeah sure—"

"—perfect! Amazing! I'll see you later!" You don't give Armin a chance to say goodbye before you're sprinting down the hallway. You pass the spot where you were sitting earlier and swipe your backpack off from the floor, ignoring your pens and paper that are scattered across the table.

The run to back to your apartment happens in a blur: all you can feel is the burning in your lungs and the blood pounding in your head. Your leg muscles feel like they're one wrong step away from tearing off the bone, but you still somehow make it to your place in half the time.

You immediately strip your clothes off and jump into a freezing shower. For the most part, the cold water soothes the burn in your body, no doubt helping whatever soreness you're bound to have. You stick your face directly into the spray, hoping the water can wash away your shame.

God, you feel like you're under some spell. Some crazy, twisted spell cast by some outcast pervert that wanted to watch the world endlessly fuck one another. You can't seem to flush out the mixture of adrenaline and arousal that scorches your gut. Drops of water hit your pebbled nipples in a way that makes you crave the chill rather than pull away. Everything feels like torture, but you can't do anything but want and want.

You support yourself with one hand on the wall in front of you while your other hand snakes down to your heat. A wetness that's definitely not from the shower coats the pad of your fingers, and you can't help but dip a knuckle inside you.

The relief, although small, makes you let out a shaky breath. It doesn't take long until you're grinding against the base of your palm and pumping your fingers into your tight hole. Your hand is cramping and you're leaning your forehead against the wall, moans airy and faint against the running water.

A curl of your fingers makes you come with a silent scream. The inside of your thighs are left a slippery mess and your bicep is still aching after you loosen your wrist from your cunt. You come back to your senses and remorse kicks in. Something deep inside you still simmers, and you have a feeling this was only the beginning.

"Fucking hell …" you whisper with a huff.

Grabbing the shower knob, you move the water to a reasonable temperature and clean yourself up.

… You can't stop masturbating.

If you weren't in class, you were in your room with your hand shoved down your pants, too pent up to even take them off. Even with your frequent showering (your water bill is going be insane this month) and wipe downs, you constantly felt damp and icky.

Your underwear was either wet with arousal or sticky with your come that somehow continues to leak out of you hours after touching yourself. The window in your room is permanently propped open and your candle is barely holding on, but you can't seem to waft out the smell of sex. You might as well wear a sign that says "World's Biggest Pervert" when you walk around campus.

One thought of Armin, and you feel a pulse between your legs. Your dreams were plagued with him and all the different ways you could make each other get off, making you wake up to a sopping mess in your shorts the following morning and filthy visions that you can't help but touch yourself to for real.

It was especially agonizing on the days you met up with Armin. Fortunately, logic hasn't completely escaped you yet, and you made sure all your hangouts have been in public spaces the past couple of weeks, using the library or coffee shops as buffers for your dirty mind. It worked, for the most part.

You ignore the time last week when Armin took his glasses off to clean them against his t-shirt, and how his tongue darted out between his lips when he buffed a particularly stubborn smudge, making you thankful for the thick seam in your jeans. It was enough to relieve the ache in your clit until you got home, where you immediately shoved a pillow underneath you and humped the thing within an inch of its life.

You also ignore the time two days ago, when he saved you from being taken out by some idiot student and their motorized scooter by grabbing your arm and pulling you away from the middle of the sidewalk and into his chest. Your face was surrounded by the earthy musk of his cologne, leaving you feeling warm and dizzy afterward. Later that night, you notice how the smell lingers on your shirt, and you ride your fingers while sniffing the fabric.

…

Okay, so maybe you weren't doing so great. At least you weren't doing this in public, which is … the bare minimum, technically, but it's still something.

Eventually, the weekend comes around, and it's both a blessing and a curse: you could stay at home and get yourself away from the source of your dirty fantasies, but now that you had no actual plans or obligations, you were left to your own devices, and you severely underestimated yourself.

When you wake up to a vivid dream of Armin's mouth between your legs, you try to match the sensation with your fingers until you're squirming under the covers. When you take a shower to clean yourself up, you use the pressure of your shower head on your clit and picture Armin with you, naked and kissing down your neck. When you try to distract yourself by reading a book on the couch, you imagine your head in Armin's lap and his fingers in your hair, and somehow that makes you horny enough to throw the book on the coffee table and grind against the armrest like a dog in heat.

Your afternoon passes in the haze left by your orgasms. You lost track after the fifth one, and your head feels like it's full of fog as you try to stay cognizant. Your pussy is spent and swollen from your constant abuse, but you know if you worm your hand back down it'll be aching for more.

You're in the bathroom cleaning up after yourself after your latest session (an ad for a cruise trip to the Bahamas played on your TV, and you couldn't stop picturing Armin shirtless afterward) when your phone vibrates on the sink counter.

[Armin 🌊]

Are you busy this weekend? I saw they released the new season of that one anime you told me about, did you want to watch it together? My place is free! :)))

The text makes you check your calendar in shock. You've been so frazzled from your new… interest? Habit? Addiction? You honestly forgot all about the show in the light of recent events, but you're more shocked that Armin somehow remembered this.

You told him about the news months ago, a few weeks before he left for the South Pole. It was a comment in passing, when you were searching the manga section of the bookstore to find your next read. You pointed out the series and mentioned you were excited to see them animate the next arc, since it was one of your favorites. From what you knew, he didn't watch the show, let alone read the manga, and you definitely didn't expect him to think twice about what you said.

Armin was attentive, you knew that for a fact. Quiet, but always paying attention. Yet experiencing it first-hand, at a time where you're nothing but self-destructive and avoidant, makes it especially touching. For the first time all day, your mind feels a bit clearer, and you text back that you'll be over in an hour before you change your mind.

A familiar rush of blood ripples through you. Unfortunately, the idea of seeing Armin excites you more than it should.

You put your phone back down by the sink, and with a frustrated groan, your hand finds its way to the eager spot between your thighs.

You're still waiting at Armin's door a couple minutes after you text him that you're here. Confused, you slowly knock on the wood, the rhythm choppy and awkward. Was he not home for some reason?

You're about to send another knock when the door swings open, an out-of-breath Armin on the other side.

Specifically, an Armin wearing gray sweats and his gaming headset around his neck. You're embarrassed at how attractive you find him right now, and how your breaths are just as heavy as his.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," he sputters out. "I ran as soon as I got the chance, I thought me and Eren would be done with this game before you got here. There's a couple seconds left until the last round starts, you cool just hanging out in my room while I finish up?"

You're not sure how he said all that in one breath, or if you caught most of that. "Hm? Uh, sure. Don't worry about me, I can wait."

Your agreement is enough for him to start jogging back to his room. "Great. Thanks." He brings his headset back to his ears and adjusts his mic. "Jesus, Eren, I'm heading back. You can literally hear me outside your door right now. Don't do anything stupid before I get to point ..." His voice grows quieter as you take your time to catch up to him. You let the initial shock subside and take a deep breath to slow your racing heart.

Armin doesn't pay you any mind when you enter his bedroom, already focused on catching up to the rest of his team in the game. His room looks the same as it always does, though you haven't been in here since the spring. You always thought the space was quite cozy, with his preference of using lamps over the fluorescent overhead light and his bookshelf that contained just as many mementos as it did books.

On the middle shelf, you spot his vintage camera that his grandpa gifted him, along with what looks like to be a vial of water. It's a new addition, probably from the Southern Ocean that he's been surrounded by for several weeks. You make a note to ask if he brought anything else back from his trip.

Your eyes eventually land on Armin's bed and you freeze. It's the same bed as it's always been, with slight chips in the headboard and those navy blue bedsheets that are so stereotypical and dude-ish that it's almost comical. You've sat on his bed plenty of times; it was your go-to spot whenever you came over to hang out. You even made the space your designated nap area when the two of you were studying for finals, the mattress the perfect balance of firm and soft that you couldn't help but shut your eyes for a few minutes.

Sitting on his bed right now, with everything you've been feeling lately, seems wrong. It somehow felt too intimate, an invasion of privacy despite your familiarity. But you're trying to be normal, and it's not like there's ample seating options in his room, so you bite the bullet and sit on the edge of the bed.

You're dragging your nails across the seam of his comforter, letting the mouse clicks and mumbles of Armin's voice drown in the space, when you hear a loud bang from Eren's room and an annoyed groan from across from you.

"Dammit, I told you, Eren, you have to back up. Their tank probably has ult, and we need to save our cooldowns if we don't want to topple over," Armin commands into his mic. "And I can't heal you if you're around a corner, so stop complaining."

Armin's shoulders are hunched over his desk, and his back curving into a position that he'll surely feel later tonight. His right hand whips his mouse in controlled, sporadic directions while his glasses slip down toward the bridge of his nose. He's deep in concentration, you're not sure if he would notice you if you did anything.

What could you get away with while he wasn't looking?

Ew, no. That's terrible, stop it.

You were curious about it, though. Horny, yes, but also curious. Like you mentioned earlier, he was often observant around other people. Is that the case when he's at home, relaxed and in his own world?

Were you part of that world?

Would he notice if you laid yourself down on the bed, your head nestled on his pillow that smelled of his shampoo? Would he be able to pick up on the sound of your pants slipping off your legs and onto the floor? The wet pop of your mouth after you suck on your fingers?

How long could you play with yourself before he turned around? Would he finish the rest of the game and chat with Eren before he even looked your way?

Did you want to distract him? To make him look at you and ruin his game?

You bite your lip at the idea, suddenly feeling hot all over. Out of all the fantasies you've had of Armin, and you were racking up a heavy amount, this seemed the most wrong. Like you were taking advantage of him at his most vulnerable.

But then Armin nearly growls at his monitor, and all rationale flies out the door.

"Fuck! Fall back, Eren! It's a 2v5 right now, we can't win this!"

God, could make that noise at you? Your daydream resumes, and now you're purposefully making noise in the background of Armin's game, letting the squelch of your cunt echo in his room as you let out a moan. You wouldn't stop when he turned around, indulging in the pleasure building in your stomach. You picture him and his eyes narrowing in on you, the look he often makes when he's starting to get irritated at something. Or in your imagination's case, someone.

He'll mumble something to Eren and mute his mic before he even gets the chance to respond. Just when you think he might actually be upset at you, he'll stand up and hover over the edge of his bed, and you'll notice the way his cock stirs in his sweatpants, already half-hard.

It would be all the reassurance you would need to whimper and say, "I'm sorry, I couldn't help it. Need you so bad." You would let your leg reach toward Armin, moving your foot up his thigh and grazing his dick, before stopping and playing with the top of his pants, signaling him to take them off.

You're acting coy, a smug smile playing on your lips. You think you have Armin right where you want him, but then you feel a tight grip around your ankle, the same one that hovers in front of his pants. In one quick motion, your whole body is dragged several feet closer to him, your feet now dangling off the bed.

The abrupt change makes you gasp and your cunt clench on nothing, your hands now at your sides as you prop yourself up. Your shock makes Armin smirk.

"Don't worry. I'll give you everything you need…"

Fuck, you're so horny. If you don't stand up soon, you're going to leave a wet spot on his bed.

You high-tail it for the bathroom across the hall, mumbling an excuse that Armin definitely didn't hear over the chaos happening on his screen. For the best, you think. It'll give you more time to put yourself together.

When you're in the bathroom, you hold yourself over his sink and stare at your reflection. Is this what your friendship with Armin is going to be like from now on? Getting turned-on by your best friend, then feeling guilty and avoiding him, only to jerk off to him anyway? Is he wasting his time on someone who's nothing but a complete pervert?

Your brain feels like it's being strung out in a million different directions, but it's still nothing compared to the throbbing deep in your cunt.

You double-check that you locked the bathroom door before you pull your pants to your feet, goosebumps raising on your exposed lower half. The wetness from your pussy sends a chill through your body, but you soon warm up when your fingers slink down and past your folds.

With perfect precision, you continuously hit the spot deep inside you that makes your toes curl. The knot in your belly tightens and a wave of pleasure starts creeping in. You're so close, putting more of your weight against the sink as you ride your hand to your orgasm—

There's a knock on the bathroom door.

"Sorry to bother you," Armin begins to say. "Eren and I finished our game, so I'm going to get the show set up in the living room. Do you want any snacks or anything?"

The noise startles you, making you nearly trip on your pants that are still on the floor. Your heart is pounding against your ribcage and your eyes are bulging, staring at the door like it's about to swing open and reveal your dark secret.

Armin calls your name when you don't answer right away. "Everything good?"

Shit. "I'm fine! Sorry, I was just thinking … maybe some popcorn? Or whatever you're having is fine … I'll be out in a minute!" You swear your heart is going to burst out of your chest.

"Alright, sounds good."

The sounds of footsteps fade away from the door and down the hallway. The beeping of the microwave confirms he's in the kitchen, and you quickly pull your pants up and wash your hands, ignoring the dampness in your underwear sticking to your skin.

What the hell is wrong with you? You're at Armin's apartment for crying out loud, you shouldn't be trying to get yourself off in his bathroom. Eren's in the damn room next to you right now. You should at least have the decency to pull it together until you got home.

You opt out of drying your hands and place your palms on your hot face, letting the cold water calm you down. When you feel like you're at a reasonable temperature, you open the door and head to the living room.

Armin's already sitting on the couch with the TV on and popcorn on the table in front of him, sending you a quick smile when you pop into view. Eren's sitting next to him, hunched forward and staring at his phone.

"Oh, hey Eren. Are you joining us?" you ask, relief starting to set in; he would be the perfect buffer between you and Armin.

"Nah, I'm just hanging around. I'm waiting for Mikasa to pick me up so we can get dinner together." He glances back down at your phone, not noticing how your body deflates at the news. Armin does, though. "Actually, it looks like she just parked, so I'll see you guys later." He stands up from his spot on the couch. "Have fun with whatever you're watching, I'm sure it'll be good. I'll be back later tonight, so could you leave the door unlocked for me?"

"You know you could make a copy of a key for like, three dollars, right?" Armin points out.

Eren shrugs, taking the comment as a yes. "Then I guess I'm three dollars richer. See ya guys."

You laugh at Eren's irresponsibility and wave him off. When he slams the door on his way out, you feel a weight land back on your shoulders as you're left standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room.

Armin scans you with concerned eyes before breaking the silence. "I saved a blanket for you, if you need it."

He points to the blanket lying on the back of the couch. It's the same blanket that you always use when you're over. No matter the weather and what you're wearing, your legs always got chilly whenever the two of you watched something. The sweet action stirs terribly in your insides, making you feel disgust for yourself. You don't deserve him.

You mumble a quick thanks, grabbing the blanket and sitting down. You make sure to put extra space between the two of you before bringing your knees to your chest and tucking the blanket under your feet. While you're trying to get comfortable (a task more difficult than it should be), Armin's doing the same, sitting cross-legged on the cushion while grabbing the popcorn and placing it in his lap.

He grabs a handful of popcorn, pointing to the bowl with his other hand and asking, "Want some? I added extra butter for you."

You stare at the sight at bit longer than acceptable. Luckily, Armin is already looking away from you, searching for the remote and hitting play. "Yeah. Thanks," you gulp, trying not to think of the implications of his actions just now as you grab a few pieces.

He was offering you popcorn, not asking you to grab his dick. Get your mind out of the gutter.

The first episode drags; not because it's bad, honestly you had no clue what was happening, despite having read the manga. No, you were more focused on looking like you were paying attention. Your eyes haven't left the screen once, and you haven't even made a grab for the popcorn bowl even though by this point, you usually would be debating if you should pop a second bag or not.

It's not until the outro song plays that you snap back into reality, the music playing several volumes louder than the rest of the show. Armin cringes at the loud noise, quickly turning the tv down to a reasonable level.

"Hate when that happens…" he mumbles, putting the popcorn back on the table and getting comfortable again.

First, Armin stretches his neck, extending his head back and forth with a low groan. Then, he stretches his legs and spreads them further out, his left knee almost knocking into your right foot. Finally, he settles back into the couch, and if you stare hard enough, you can see the print of his dick just barely outlined in his sweatpants.

The things you could do with him right here on this couch…

The sight makes drool pool in your mouth, and it reminds you just how soaked your panties are from earlier. Your cunt aches all over again, starving to be satiated after you stopped just before your release.

"So, what do you think so far? I know you mentioned something about a bus hijacking arc? Does that happen in the next episode?" Armin asks, reaching for a few more pieces of popcorn.

"Good. It was good." It feels like the blood has rushed away from your brain and toward your pussy. What are you saying 'good' to again?

Your lack of answer leaves Armin confused, mouth pursed and debating if he should repeat himself. For whatever reason, he leaves it at that. "Uh, alright. You cool to start the next episode then?"

You offer a gentle hum in agreement and he presses play, both of you now awkwardly staring straight ahead.

Great. Now you're horny frustrated and non-horny frustrated. Why can't you at least act normal around him? You need to do something to calm yourself down.

You need to come so bad.

…

No. Absolutely not. You are not going to masturbate in his bathroom again.

It would be obvious, even more so, that you're being weird. Even if it wasn't weird, he would probably think you had a stomach bug or something, which is just as embarrassing. If you went to the bathroom, he would pause the tv so you don't miss anything. You couldn't have Armin wait on you while you came to the thought of riding his thigh.

…

Although, you could just do it here on the couch.

Technically speaking, if you were subtle enough, he wouldn't notice anything under the blanket, especially if you left your legs pulled up toward your chest. It would also eliminate the issue of him waiting on you, since the show would just keep playing.

It was a crazy idea though, and way too risky. Just pay attention to the episode, make a couple comments about it, and everything will sort itself out.

Your pussy throbs, almost like it's fighting against your logic. Apparently, it wasn't taking no as answer, and in retaliation, you're flooded with dirty visions of Armin and his hand creeping under the covers and finding the spot you're trying so hard to ignore.

His middle fingers drags across the seam of your pants, making it dig between your folds and right on your clit. It's teasing, the pressure not enough for how wet you are, but it still makes your legs snap shut as you whine. With a firm hand, he moves away from your center and pushes on your inner thigh, forcing your leg back to where it was. Your other leg moves back too, taking the instruction.

"Don't move," Armin whispers, voice gravelly. "Just keep watching your show. I'll take care of you."

Your whole body feels hot. You want to kick away the blanket and let yourself cool down a bit, but something is stopping you. A part of you that wants to touch yourself and come till you see stars.

With slow, measured movements, you move your hand off the couch, moving it to the middle of your body. Your fingers inch further down, relaxing against your pants as you cup your heat. It's a small comfort as you continue to clench on nothing. Your legs form a tent shape with the blanket, making the action unnoticeable. You could easily move your hand away at any time, and no one would have to know.

Yet the risk to push further entices you.

Armin thumbs the edge of your pants, making your stomach tense at the gentle graze. He pushes the band away from your skin, letting his hand go past the barrier. The tips of his fingers trail down your body with deft precision before they're pushing past the side of your underwear and drawing circles over your entrance.

Your cunt pulses, desperately pleading for his fingers to fill you up. Your breathing comes out unevenly as you try to focus on the scene in front of you. You must be doing a decent job of paying attention, because he sinks a finger inside you, sopping up your arousal before pulling out and spreading it around the outside of your pussy. He was making a complete mess out of you, and you wanted to beg for more.

"I'm going to get some water real quick, do you want some?" Armin asks.

You blink, hand still cupping your mound. "Sure, that would be nice. Do you want me to pause the show?"

He shakes his head, already walking to the kitchen. "It's cool, I shouldn't be long. I'll still be able to hear it from over there."

The moment his body disappears, you spring into action. You bump the volume of the tv up a few notches, letting the noise muffle your own as the hand that's been cupping your clothed core slips fully under your pants. Your hips jerk at the coolness of your slick pussy no longer sticking to your underwear, and again when you finally touch your clit. With how pent up you are, you honestly might be able to come before he comes back.

You imagine your fingers are Armin's, rubbing the hard nub of your clit and making your eyes flutter shut and your head feel fuzzy. Everything is so sensitive under his controlled motions and your skin feels like it's on fire. You're ready to strip off your clothes and plead for Armin to fuck you so good, so deep right here on the couch.

The door opens, making Armin's fingers freeze.

"Hey guys, you still watching your one show?" Eren greets, taking off his shoes by the door. Your eyes are wide, panic thrumming through your body at being caught in the act.

Well, almost caught. Eren hasn't picked up on anything yet.

"Yeah, it's pretty good so far," Armin replies. He starts moving again, dragging a line from your slit up back up to your clit. It's as if he was testing you. Not to see if you would say no—he knew how badly you wanted his fingers. How badly you wanted him to keep going.

No, he was testing to see if you could be quiet enough.

The familiar ache right before you come is hitting you with full force as you continue to stroke yourself with fervor. You're about to let go and fall off the edge when footsteps grow louder.

"Looks like I didn't miss much," Armin mumbles, setting two glasses down. You haven't stopped your motions, going just slow enough to keep your orgasm at bay. He seems to be oblivious at the crude activities happening under your blanket, sitting back down like everything was normal.

Your breaths are heavy and your chest is nearly heaving under the covers. You just need to come at this point. Get everything out of your system, and you'll be back to normal.

Your fingers speed up, your brain on high alert for any suspicious movements that you make.

"You want to watch with us?" Armin asks Eren, barely dipping a knuckle into you. Your cunt tries to grip him, to suck him in deeper. He takes the hint, pushing another digit in and fully fingering you. You bite your lip so hard you nearly break skin, trapping your moans in your throat.

"Eh, sure, why not?" He shrugs, staring at the screen and slumping into the recliner next to you. If he turned a little to his right, he would be face-to-face with your dazed expression and Armin's arm snaking underneath your blanket. Yet Armin was unrelenting, continuing to work you open while his friend sits less than ten feet away.

You can feel the coil in your stomach ready to snap.

Armin angles his hand and lets the base of his palm grind against your clit, and you're creaming on his fingers with a shivering breath. Eren isn't fazed, not even noticing when Armin's hand leaves your body and the blanket, bringing his fingers to his lips and nonchalantly cleaning off your come with his tongue.

A flick of your clit sends you spiraling, your pleasure releasing in waves as you helplessly throb. You let out a deep sigh as you come, hoping that it passes off as a normal breath. There's a thrum of ecstasy that circulates through your veins, but it's nothing compared to the heavy shame that it comes with. Your muscles in your abdomen tighten until they cramp, and the comedown leaves you feeling utterly pathetic.

Your hands feel slimy when you wipe them off on your underwear, and you start to feel even worse. You can't believe you just did that. What the hell possessed you to make you think that this was okay? That you could pretend to be a normal friend after this?

You're an absolute monster. A total creep. You have completely ruined your friendship with Armin and you need to leave. You don't deserve his kindness, not after what you just did.

A layer of sweat clings onto you, and you're sticky with humiliation. "Actually, I'm getting a bit tired. I should get going," you say, moving off the couch and pulling the blanket off you. You're grateful you didn't leave some stain on the upholstery.

"Oh, really? I mean, you just got here, are you sure you don't want to stay a bit longer?" Armin pauses the tv, the second episode barely halfway through. He's looking at you with worry, but you can tell by the small pout of his lips that he's trying to hide his disappointment.

Your heart aches at the sight. It feels like every choice you make is the wrong one.

"Yeah, sorry. Just a long day and all that." Not technically wrong, you did masturbate about a dozen times today. "Plus, might as well walk home before the sun sets. No need to worry about me." You're making a dash to the exit, your shoes half-on before you swing the front door open.

"Wh—okay. Uh, have a good night then. I'll see you later?"

The door closes before he finishes the that last part. Your hand is still on the doorknob, and you're tempted to open the door again just to agree that yes, you'll hang out again. That everything was okay. But that would be a lie, and that would probably just make things worse.

You couldn't keep dragging him through this cycle of trying to be his friend and then pushing him away when you failed. Until you could get yourself in check, you were a burden.

You walk away from the door, unsure when you would let yourself see your best friend again.

"Alright, you're pissing me off," Eren says.

You look up from your spot in the coffee shop, confronted with irritation personified. "Uh … sorry?" You're not sure what's happening right now, and it doesn't help that Eren is just an intense person to begin with. He could be mad at anything. "… did I forget we made plans? Or like, forget to say 'bless you' or something?"

"What?—no. At least, I'm choosing to excuse your bad manners on that right now, but next time it wouldn't hurt you to say it at least once! Allergies are no joke! Ragweed could kill me. Do you want your lack of common courtesy to forever be stuck on your conscience?"

"Considering that ragweed is probably not deadly? I think I'll be fine," you reply with a blank stare.

"Ugh, whatever. I'm not having this argument again." Who else was he having this conversation with? "I meant what's going on between you and Armin?"

The mention of his name gets your attention, a pang of guilt hitting you like a freight train. Eren must notice how you tense, his eyes narrowing in on you.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you bluff, hoping he'll drop the conversation, even though you know he won't. Not only is he intense, but also freakishly determined — a dangerous combination. "Plus, why would I tell you of all people? You're his best friend. You'd either tell him about this or get mad at me and take his side. Or both."

"Well, maybe."

Eren stops.

"Probably."

Another pause.

"Okay, I would, but there's clearly something wrong between you two. Whenever you study here, Armin's usually with you. Instead, he's sulking in his room because you've been ignoring him all week, and I know you've been ignoring him all week because he looks at his phone all lost and disappointed, and you're the only other person he texts on a regular basis. So you better talk to him and fix whatever is wrong with you or I'll—"

"—you'll what? You don't have anything on me, Eren, and you definitely don't scare me."

"Told you," a voice behind you says.

"—fuck! Were you there this whole time?!" you shout, turning in your chair and locking eyes with Mikasa's.

She ignores your question and simply takes the seat next to you. "Look, we just want to help you. Both of you. Something clearly happened between you two. Or at least, something happened between you two that only you know about. I don't think it's fair to keep Armin in the dark. So if you don't want to tell him right now, I think you should at least tell someone what's bothering you."

You sigh. "Look, I appreciate it, but I promise you there's nothing—"

"—I'll tell Historia that you were the one that shrunk her favorite sweater in the dryer."

"Oh fuck you. I thought you were doing a good cop, bad cop thing," you scoff.

Ever since that night at his apartment, you went no contact with Armin. It might not have been the best strategy, if you can even call it that.

You ignored his text checking to see if you made it home okay, then his ones asking if you wanted to study at the library, followed by his ones where he linked a particularly interesting YouTube video defending fanfiction and asked for your thoughts. That one took a lot of strength to ignore, and you now have a saved paragraph in your notes regarding the topic.

But the worst messages were probably his last ones.

[Armin 🌊]

Is everything okay? Haven't heard from you in a while

Did I do something? Because I'm not sure what

I'm sorry for whatever I did, and for not knowing what I did :/

Can we at least talk about it?

I want to figure this out

I miss you

You had to shut your phone off after that last one, and when you turned it back hours later, you couldn't help but feel disappointed that he hasn't said anything since.

It was especially excruciating when you were on campus. Earlier in the week, you were leaving the lecture hall with Annie when you spotted Armin waiting for you by a nearby bench. Before he could spot you in the crowd, you grabbed Annie by the arm and dashed back into the building, mumbling something about forgetting your laptop charger inside.

A couple days after that, Connie caught you walking past the courtyard while he and Jean were tossing a frisbee across the lawn. While he was trying to convince you to check out his next DJ set at the local nightclub, Armin was walking your way, steps getting more urgent when he realized it was you.

In a panic, you told Connie to 'go long' and toss the frisbee to you in the opposite direction. Halfway through chasing the disc, you made a break for it and sprinted away, much to everyone's confusion.

("… I'm not sure they get this game," you heard Jean yell to the two.)

Since then, it was safe for Armin to say that you wanted nothing to do with him. You got exactly what you wanted, and you've never felt more horrible.

You honestly didn't expect anyone to notice the change, but you should've accounted for Eren and Mikasa's unwavering loyalty. They knew Armin better than you, being childhood friends and all. Like you, they would do anything for him, including interrogating and threatening you until you spilled your secret.

"Look, you're right," you sigh. "Armin doesn't know anything, and he definitely didn't do anything wrong." Other than get super attractive and make all your feelings toward him impossible to ignore. "Things between us just got … complicated, and it's just easier if we keep some distance. I swear, I'm doing this because I care about him."

Eren huffs, though he can tell that you're being honest. "I just don't get it." He crosses his arms and tilts his head, glare still as harsh as before. "If he didn't do anything wrong, and you supposedly didn't do anything wrong, what changed?"

Mikasa hums in thought, turning in her chair to stare you down as well. "For once, he actually makes a good point …"

"For once? What's that supposed to mean?"

"—do you not have feelings for him anymore? Is that why you're avoiding him?"

What?

"What?" you blurt out. "You knew?"

Mikasa leans away from you, brows furrowed. She shifts her gaze to Eren, who looks equally confused, then back to you. "Was that … not public knowledge?"

"No!" You're not sure your voice is an appropriate volume for the coffee shop anymore. "It is very much not public knowledge! It's not supposed to be anyone's knowledge! Especially you guys!" You're pinching the bridge of your nose and praying that this conversation can't get any worse. "Please tell me that at least Armin doesn't know I like him."

"Like him? As in, present tense?" Eren catches.

Dammit. The conversation was getting worse.

"Yes, as in present tense," you mutter under your breath, admitting defeat.

"Oh, well that's easy enough," Eren shrugs. "You like him. He likes you. Problem solved."

What?

Mikasa hums again, this time in disagreement before butting in and saying, "Not exactly. They've always liked each other. It still doesn't explain the change."

What?

"Ugh, you're right." Eren slumps back into his seat.

You wish you could melt onto the floor and get mopped up by an underpaid barista. You're frozen in place, helpless under their hot, blinding looks. A pounding thumps in your skull and your brain is trying to stay still and process the information Eren just told you.

"I'm sorry, can we go back to what you guys just said?" you somehow manage to squeak out.

Eren lets out a dramatic groan and an exaggerated eye roll. "You both like each other, keep up. All of us see how you two look at each other. Armin always has googly eyes and this stupid grin whenever he's around you." He then lazily motions to you. "And you … well you used to look at him like that too. Actually you still do sometimes, but now sometimes you look at him all spaced out. And you breath weird … like you're trying to stop yourself from having a panic attack or something … whatever the hell that's supposed to mean."

"—wait, oh my god! You have the hots for Armin!" Sasha yells behind you.

"Oh come on! You too?" you angrily shout. "Were you listening to us this whole time?"

"Well, I work here, so I was originally going to top off your coffee," she explains, gesturing to the coffee pot in her hand. "Then I got nosy. So I eavesdropped instead."

You look down at your cup. "… Sasha, I got a matcha."

"Oh. Guess I was just nosy then." She sets down the pot on the table. You're not sure if she realizes the damage the hot pot is going to do on the wood. "But just hear me out: Armin comes back from his summer of isolation looking like a total nerd, no offense, and now you're acting all weird around him. Eren just described the telltale signs of sexual attraction. Clearly, his new look is doing it for you, and now all these horny thoughts you're having is making your body go into overdrive because of your already strong feelings for him."

Sasha moves her hand in the air like she's solving equations in her head. "You liking him for a year or so, multiplied by the average horniness it takes to want to have sex with someone, divided by the three weeks he's been back …" Her eyes widen, cracking the code. "Oh wow, that's rough. Yeah you probably would have jumped his bones the next time you saw him, no wonder you're avoiding him now."

Your tongue feels like lead in your mouth. Any excuse you could possibly make dies before you can find the words. The three of you are looking at her with varying degrees of shock, disgust, and in your case, complete embarrassment. Someone should tell her never to do math again. But someone should also tell her she may be the next Sherlock Holmes.

"Yeah, I think we're done here. Let's go, Eren." Mikasa stands up.

"Wait what? What happened to you guys helping me out?"

"Listen, I love you and all, but that was before I knew you wanted to do … that with Armin," she shudders. "He's like my brother. And now I can't stop picturing him naked."

Sasha snorts in your direction. "Well neither can they."

"Please stop talking," you mumble back.

Mikasa grimaces and takes a deep breath before talking again. "Just talk to him, okay? And we can pretend this conversation never happened."

You quickly nod. "Gladly."

Mikasa can barely look at you as she heads for the door. Eren slowly starts to follow her, but before he leaves, he turns to you with pursed lips. "So ... that was probably my fault."

He then walks away, not elaborating.

"Wh—a sorry would have been nice," you stammer. Was that payback for his 'bless you' argument earlier? Maybe he had a point about the common courtesy thing after all, though you would never say that to his face.

You let your head drop onto the table and bury your face in your homework with a pained groan. Sasha still lingers behind you, unsure if she helped or not.

"Uh, want some coffee to go?"

You nod into your notebook. "… Yes please."

You let the idea of reaching out to Armin linger. For about a day, that is. Because the following morning, there's a pounding at your door.

Armin is already letting himself in before you register he was at the door.

"Is Historia home?" he asks.

"You know she never is." She practically lives at Ymir's ever since they started dating last spring. Thank god too. You couldn't imagine how much worse your situation would be if she was around.

"Cool. That means I can yell at you here."

The door closes with a quiet click, Armin already standing in the middle of your living room. You're taken aback by his fervor, only responding with a quiet "huh?"

"—look, I was going to let you have your space. I took the hint and left you alone. But yesterday, I said hi to Sasha on the way to class and she basically laughed in my face. And then Mikasa comes over later that night and barely says a word to me. Hell, she couldn't even be in the same room as me without getting war flashbacks or something. And when I finally decided to come over so we can talk things out, Eren tells me to 'have fun' and 'be safe'? Like what is that supposed to mean? Why are all of you being so weird around me?"

And yeah, okay. You kind of deserved this.

Armin's face is red, lungs heaving as he finally lets himself take a breath. He finally meets your gaze, and he deflates. Now that the initial anger has worn off, he looks incredibly hurt.

"I feel like a little kid all over again. Like there's some joke that I'm not in on," he whispers. "Did something happen over the summer?" He pauses, scared to ask the big question looming over his head. "Do you not like me? Are we not friends anymore?"

"What? No—no that's not it at all. Of course we're still friends." You finally snap out of it, walking towards Armin. You want to grab him by the shoulders, to reassure him that he has the completely wrong idea, but you resist the urge. If you got too close, you were worried you wouldn't be able to control yourself.

"Then why does it feel like I'm doing something wrong?"

"It's not like that. You're not—"

"—then explain why you're doing this! You have been weird with me ever since I came back. And now you're ignoring me? Clearly, you have some issue with me, and I seem to be the only one that doesn't know why. I don't want to bother you if that's what you want, but I just don't see what's changed between us." He looks down at himself, hand on his chest. "Do you not want to be seen with me?"

"What?" That's the idea he got from this?

"Were you just being nice to me after I came back? Do you think I look … bad?"

Definitely not. "Armin, please I—"

"—are you embarrassed to be my friend? Is it the hair?"

The complete opposite: you want to pull his hair and see if he moans at the pain. "Armin …"

"—the glasses? The shirt? I know it's goofy, but I thought the Minecraft reference would come off more ironic than serious …"

The shirt is more sexy than funny, actually. That's what the problem is. How is he not getting this?

His ramblings are utter nonsense. Your left eye twitches in irritation. There's an ache in between your legs. You want him to shut up, and you're debating between smacking him upside the head and kissing him to do so.

"—I want to fuck you."

Well. That works too.

"Wha— huh?!" Armin chokes out, jumping out of his skin. The sudden jerk of his body makes him lose his footing for a split second, and his glasses slip and balance themselves lower on his nose. If you weren't making a total fool of yourself, you would find the sight endearing.

"I want to fuck you. Or you fuck me. God, I'd let you do anything to me." The laugh you let out sounds pained and borderline psychotic. "Honestly, I've gone through a million different scenarios at this point, I've probably thought of it all." Your heart rate is going so fast it would probably break a monitor. "Yes, it's the hair. And the glasses. And your freaking clothes. But not liking them? That couldn't be further from the truth."

"I-I don't understand."

You bury your face in your hands and shake your head. Armin is looking at you like you're a stray dog, unable to decide if it's safe for him to help you with whatever is wrong with you. "I can't stop thinking about you, Armin. I've always liked you. I tried to ignore those feelings. I thought I was doing a good job of not letting it ruin our friendship. But then you show up after months away looking like that," you motion toward him, "and my mind starts playing a porno every time you're near me. Even when you're not around me, I'll dream up some perverted fantasy of us and jerk off to it."

Armin sputters. "Y-you what? To me?"

Shit. Did you not mention that?

"So that's why you've been acting off lately?"

You slowly nod. "Pretty much." No use hiding anything now.

Armin's jaw hasn't closed for a whole minute. His eyes keep flittering from one half of your face to the other, completely mystified. It's taking him longer than you expected to wrap his head around this. You're not sure if that's bad or beyond awful.

"So—so that night? At the party? You weren't sick, or—or drunk?"

"I mean, I technically was drunk. At least when you first found me," you begin to say, "really, I couldn't stop thinking of shoving my tongue down your throat."

He gulps. "And when I dropped you off? After you went home?"

"Tried to go bed right away and figure my shit out. Ended up masturbating to the thought of dry humping you in your car."

"Cool. That's uh … nice," he mumbles. His gaze feels darker, his breaths evening out and deepening. The room suddenly felt smaller. "Then what about the library? You didn't have to meet Sasha then?"

You shook your head. "Took a cold shower after I kept dreaming of sucking your dick. Didn't work, though. Actually, it just got worse after that."

He raises his eyebrow at the word 'worse'. The lamp next to you now burns bright like a spotlight. Why did it feel like the tables were turning on you? "So last time, when you came over …"

"Yeah … I tried to figure that out in the bathroom." You feel your throat dry up, and you let out short cough. "I had the urge to touch myself and distract you from your game, so I left to go try and take care of it … but you kinda knocked at a bad time." Your mouth presses into a flat line. "I was about to finish then you scared me off."

"Oh. Um, sorry? I guess?" Armin says. "Is that why you left so early? To go home and uh … finish?"

"Eh, not exactly …" Your body is so warm right now you could burst into flames. You let out an awkward laugh and tilt your head, considering your next words. "I left early because I already … did. Finish."

His face was still, but the blush gave him away. "When would you—but you were on the couch. You didn't get up, so when …" He's struggling to put the final piece of the puzzle together. All it takes is a look from you, and his eyes widen.

"The blanket," he whispers, like he discovered the secret to the universe. "I was right next to you? When you were …"

You give a small nod, keeping your chin down. "Kept thinking that it was your hand instead of mine. That Eren came back early, and you let him watch the tv while you secretly touched me." You scratch the back of your neck. "I guess that fantasy was a bit on the nose, now that I think about it …"

It's quiet after that. This conversation now feels like a trial, and Armin was the judge that decided your fate. All you could do was wait for his response, and pretend you weren't completely dreading it. You stare at the ceiling, sending a prayer to whoever is listening that you make it out of this with some dignity intact.

While you were wishing for a miracle, Armin clenches his jaw. He takes a moment to himself to consider his word, and puffs out his chest before speaking.

"What are you picturing right now?" Armin asks. He senses your confusion and explains himself further. More insistent this time. "Right now, when you're looking at me, what are you thinking about?"

The question makes your stomach tighten. "I'm thinking about how I'm scared out of my mind. That I ruined everything. How I should've looked into those culty celibacy classes more."

He shakes his head and takes a step forward. "You're thinking that way because you're assuming the worst."

"Can you blame me?" you scoff. This feels like a trick question, like you're the one not in on the joke now. Is he toying with you before he inevitably ends your friendship? "What should I be assuming, then?"

"Assume that I feel the same."

It's your turn to be in disbelief. It's like someone shook you like a soda can, you can feel the bubbles fizzing in your system. You're not sure if you like it or not.

"I don't—what do you mean?"

"You're assuming the worst right now, that everything you just said is going to scare me off. So assume the best instead," he says. "Assume that I feel the same. That I've had a crush on you ever since you hugged me after we got an A on that class project."

He takes another step forward. "Assume that I told Connie at the party that he could shave my head. Assume that I had to beg him the next day not to actually do it, after you told me you liked my hair. Assume that I binged the two seasons of that anime the week I came back so I could talk about it with you. Assume that I fall for you more every time you want to listen to my boring info dumps about the ocean."

"They're not boring," you say under your breath, looking away from Armin.

"Exactly," he mutters back, a smirk on his face as he takes another step. "Assume that you're hottest person I've ever met. That I wake up every day wondering why you let me hang around you, let alone be your friend."

His words make you stutter. You lower your head, fiddling with the hem of your top. He takes another step.

"Assume that I always make you take the stairs before me so I can stare at your ass. And that every time we go out to a bar, I'm purposefully sipping my drink all night and pretending I'm not looking down your shirt." A gentle finger nudges your chin up, Armin now inches away from you, cheeks rosy and radiating heat. When did he get so close? "Assume that I want to those all those things you thought about, and then some." He bites his lip, eyes darting across your face. "What are you thinking about?"

Armin's hand still sits under your chin, and it's the only thing stopping you from sinking into the carpet and letting the floor swallow you. You blink owlishly at him. Everything else in the world is frozen except for him.

While you could picture an infinite number of sexual situations with Armin, you only pictured this conversation going a few ways, all in varying degrees of bad. From asking for time away from you to giving you a number for a local therapist, the idea that he would confess his feelings (in such a rom-com way, at that) was nowhere near your perception of reality.

This was better than anything you could have come up with.

Eyes still wide, there's a pause before you finally say, "I guess what I'm thinking about is,"—you tuck some of his hair back, leaning toward his ear—"is if your shirt should stay on or off when I ride you."

"Christ," he chokes out, leaning into you. His face is an inch away from nuzzling against yours. "You're gonna kill me. Can we go back to a minute ago when you were about to have a panic attack?"

You giggle into his hair. "We could … but then we'd be further away from seeing each other naked. Hey though, if that's what you want—"

You don't get a chance to finish whatever shitty joke you were about to make, Armin quickly tilting your head to give you a bruising kiss on your lips. It takes you by surprise, but you soon fall into the rhythm of his mouth when his hand cradles your cheek. His other arm wraps around your waist, making you lean into him. You ground yourself by gripping the collar of his shirt and fuck, it looks so stupid, why does he make it so attractive?

The frame of his glasses presses against the tip of your nose, but neither of you budge at the obstacle. Armin kisses you like he's been waiting for you to tell him about your filthy desires; he kisses you like he's trying to convince you that he feels the same, and that if he stops, he'll never get this chance again. It's intoxicating and entirely mind-numbing, all you can do is go pliant in his arms and enjoy the feeling.

The thin layer of his chapstick smears onto your lips, and the flavorless wax does somehow taste better on him. A carnal craving awakens in you as you lick Armin's bottom lip, slipping your tongue in when his mouth opens in response, deepening the kiss even more. He meets you halfway and groans at the wetness of your tongue. It makes your core ache. You want everything he has to offer.

"My room," you mumble between kisses. A squeeze on your hip tells you he heard your request, and you tug him down the hallway, wet kisses trailing along his jaw and down his neck as you shuffle. Armin's breath hitches when you suck above the bump of his collarbone, and you smirk and make a mental note for future purposes.

In the rare chance you do forget, a red hickey is left as a friendly reminder.

By sheer luck, you make it to your bedroom without any issue. You lock the door behind you — on the rare chance Historia comes by, you would rather not scar her. And you were definitely not holding back on Armin now that you finally had him.

You're back to kissing him as you drag him toward your bed, laying yourself down across the mattress and pulling him on top of you. Armin tries to settle his weight on you as gracefully as he can, his arms on either side of you as he holds himself up. It only lasts for about a minute. You buck your hips to meet his and grind against the growing bulge in his pants, and he collapses his chest into yours with a choked whine.

"Oh fuck," he says, breath fanning the curve of your neck. He attempts to leave open-mouthed kisses on your skin, though they're nothing more than pitiful moans he matches the motion of your hips, hesitant at first, but overpowering now, his eagerness getting the better of him. "Can—can I touch you?"

If you weren't so turned on, you would find the ask a bit silly, considering you're dry humping one another already. But something about the neediness in his voice, and how hard he feels under his pants, makes you moan a yes. "Please, Min. Want you so bad."

"Fuck, okay." Leaning to one side of you and lifting himself up, Armin lets his opposite hand hover over your breast for a moment, waiting for you to stop him. When you don't, he pulls his lip between his teeth and lets his hand cup your chest, kneading you through the fabric of your shirt. You both take a deep breath, yours giving way to a moan as his thumb brushes over the peak of your nipple.

Armin gulps. "Are you not wearing a bra?"

You shake your head. "Never do when I'm home."

"Oh. Cool," he mumbles, "that's uh, good to know," he squeezes you again, "so if I took your shirt off, I would, um …"

"—you would see my tits?"

You're trying to hide your smile as Armin's ears turn red. "Don't laugh at me. I'm nervous, okay?" he jokingly pouts. "It's a lot to take in. This has been my wet dream since forever."

"I'm nervous too," you reassure. "My heart is going crazy right now. Want to feel it?"

"… is this your way of making me grab your other boob?"

You wrap your hand around his and guide him to the other side of your chest. "Can't it be both?"

Your hand curls, forcing Armin's to do the same. He must feel the way your heart thumps under his palm, judging by the way his shoulders lower and his eyes crinkle. Another soft squeeze later, this time on his own accord, he takes a deep breath and says, "Okay, think I'm a bit better now, thanks." He pecks the underside of your jaw, the spot tingling afterward. "Can you sit up a little for me?"

Nodding, you push yourself up as Armin sits up and leans back on his heels. His fingers lace around the hem of your shirt and slowly tugs the material up. When your shirt moves past your stomach, you raise your arms out and let the fabric slip off the rest of your torso. You lower yourself back down onto your bed, giving him a full view of your tits.

"Oh wow. Okay," he croaks out, "those are … really nice. Fuck, you're so hot."

You hide your face into your pillow. Armin was the perfect mix of hot, pathetic, and endearing. One second you're horny out of your mind, the next you're teasing and bantering, and now you're flustered at his honesty. It was a whiplash that you couldn't get enough of.

Familiar hands trace up your sides, holding you just below your breasts. You turn and stare down at Armin, who peppers kisses up your sternum. At the top of your chest, he meets your gaze and places a sweet kiss on your lips before moving to take his glasses off.

"Wait no, I like your glasses," you pout. "Why are you taking them off?"

Armin just smiles. "I appreciate your enthusiasm for them, but they'll just be in the way when I do this."

"Do what? Kissing earlier was fine with them, I don't see what—oh fuck."

The view below you was obscene: Armin firmly cups both of your tits and brings them closer to his face as he goes back to kissing the center of your chest. His thumbs skim over your nipples until they pebble under his touch, and a moan vibrates your ribs as he nuzzles your chest, suffocating himself between your tits.

You keen under his touch, holding his head down as your shoulders push forward and brings your chest closer to him. He moans again at the added pressure of you, kissing the center of your breastbone one more time before he lets himself breathe.

"Fuck, I love your tits. I'm never going to get these out of my head now."

The space between your legs starts to throb endlessly. He could take a picture of them for all you care, but one dream at a time. "Don't stop, please."

Armin eyes your hard nipples and kisses up one of your breasts. When he gets up to the center, his lips parts and he sucks on the hardened nub, making you cry out.

"Holy shit, Armin. That feels so good," you whine. He rubs your other nipple and continues to mouth at the other, his tongue occasionally flicking the bud. The warmth of his mouth sends shocks of pleasure through you, and you can do nothing but whimper under his touches as he switches from one breast to the next, wetting your other nipple with his tongue.

A light pinch at the base of the nub makes you gasp so loud you shock yourself. The barely-there pain makes your brain short-circuit, and you grab the sides of Armin's face and bring him up in a feverish kiss.

"Need more," you beg. "Want your fingers inside me."

Armin hums in agreement, moving his weight off you while you continue to kiss. Your hands fumble on the waistband of your pants and you awkwardly kick your legs to shimmy them off, leaving you in just your underwear.

He sits himself between your now spread legs, the wet spot in the middle of your underwear front and center of his vision. "You're so wet," he says in astonishment.

"Because of you," you mewl. "You always get me this wet, Armin."

He groans. "God, that's so hot."

His fingers graze up your thighs and draw closer to the center of your body. He pushes the pad of his middle finger onto the wetness of your underwear, nudging himself between your folds. The wet spot grows as more of your arousal floods the fabric. Armin swears you actually soak his fingers as you whine under his touch.

Every inch of you was buzzing. You were a horny mess whenever Armin was in the same room as you, the fact that he was touching you, however small, was driving you crazy. He starts drawing a line between your slit to the nub of your clit, and a sudden, but well-acquainted tightness pulls at your abdomen. It's too good, too fast. He draws another line, and you realize too late what's happening.

"Armin, wait. I think I'm—"

Your words die off as his finger skims over your clit. On instinct, your legs clamp together and wrap around Armin's hips and you shudder out a surprise orgasm, his hands snapping to your knees to hold you during the tremors. Shutting your eyes tight, you gasp out quiet, strained moans as a wave of euphoria washes through your body.

You let yourself ride through the quivers of your aftershock, your legs relaxing back onto the bed as you start to open your eyes. Once you adjust to the brightness of your room, you're met with a slack-jawed Armin.

"Did you—did you just come?"

"Ugh, yes. Sorry." You cover your eyes with your hands, cringing at yourself. "I don't know how that even happened, honestly. I guess it's been a while."

"Definitely don't be sorry. That was the best thing I've ever seen." He shakes his head, eyebrows drawing together. "I just didn't expect that to happen so fast. Or at all, really. I figured it would take another try or something …" He winces at that last part, then quickly clears his throat. "I guessing that you haven't … you know, all week then? Since we haven't seen each other for a while?"

"… Uh, yeah. More or less."

"More or less?" he asks.

"There may have been a … moment." You let out an awkward laugh and push on your palms until you feel the sockets of your eyes, "Do you remember that video Jean sent to the group chat? Of you and the guys at the gym?"

Armin does a double-take. "The one where I almost bounced a basketball into my face? Seriously? That did it for you?"

"I mean, it was the gym shorts too …" They were weirdly baggy and long on his lanky legs, like he borrowed them from Connie or Eren last minute. In the video, he was attempting a free-throw and messed up before he even tried for the shot, dribbling the basketball right underneath himself and nearly knocking his teeth in when it bounces straight up. It was equal parts pathetic and adorable, even in your time of sorrow.

Later that day, you found yourself lying in bed, crossing your thighs together and rocking into the pressure on your clit as you thought of licking the sweat off his neck and palming him through the mesh fabric of his shorts. Out of all your Armin-related orgasms, this one was probably the most subtle one, but also the most desperate.

Your strategy wasn't perfect, okay?

The mattress shifts, and there's a hold on your wrists. Not too tight, but firm enough to snap you back into the present as you let Armin move your hands away from your face. His fingers trace up and interlace with yours as he brings them close to him, twisting your wrists so he can kiss the tops of your knuckles.

"I think I need a redo," he mumbles on your skin. Even with your hands in the way, you can make out the shy grin on his face. "Need to see if that was a fluke or if I'm just that good."

You scoff, as if you're not dying for him to do more, for him to make you come so many times that your brain turns to mush. Joking or not, he can have this ego boost if it means he keeps touching you.

"Yeah, whatever," you eventually say, smiling back. "I'm all yours, Armin."

That makes his grin deepen. He kisses your knuckles one more time and lowers them down to your sides, his fingers starting to hook around your panties.

With a gentle nod of encouragement, you lift your hips and let Armin slowly drag your underwear down your hips. His fingers graze the middle of your thighs before the center of your underwear finally unsticks from your dripping cunt. A think, honeyed line of your come and arousal still connects the fabric to your core, and Armin groans.

"So messy …" he says to himself. He cuts off the connecting web with a pinch and scoops as much of your slick as he can, smearing it between the pads of his fingers. You see the pink of his tongue between his lips when he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks. The action makes you whimper, but Armin isn't fazed, pulling back his now clean fingers and saying, "You taste good, too."

As flattering as that was, your cunt was aching for more. He must notice the way you're clenching on air, because he mumbles a quiet "sorry" and finishes pulling off your underwear, hooking it off one ankle then the other.

You can't tell if he's trying to be sneaky when he tucks your panties into the back pocket of his pants, but you don't comment on it. He could do whatever he wanted with them, it was only fair after all. Plus, it was incredibly sexy to see him stake a claim on you. You save the fantasy of him jerking off into them for future use.

Armin adjusts and moves further back on your bed. His eyes struggle to focus between your slick core and the rest of your naked body, but the fire behind them is evident, scorching you from head to toe. "You're so beautiful," he whispers.

You lightly kick his foot with yours. "Arminnn" you whine. "C'mon."

"I know I know, I'll hurry up now. Just needed you to know that."

His ears are red again, and you almost feel bad for being so needy and impatient when he was being so sweet with you. Almost. He slinks another couple feet down on the mattress, working himself into a lazy plank with his mouth fanning the spot you need him most.

"Tell me if I'm doing something wrong, okay?" You can practically hear his voice rattling your insides.

"Of course Min, just, please."

Without any other warning, Armin licks the same pattern as earlier, dragging his tongue from the bottom of your entrance to the tip of your sensitive clit. You let out a sigh of relief at the contact, but it soon turns into a desperate wail when he keeps his tongue around on the bud. From there, it's a steady pattern of languid strokes and soft sucks as he makes out with your clit. The wet kissing sounds echo in your room, and you can feel your arousal leak out of you at the sight of Armin between your legs.

"God, that's good," you keen. "Your tongue's so good, fuck. Please don't stop."

A moan vibrates against you at a particularly rough suck. He keeps the same force on your clit and grabs at your thighs, pulling them up toward his head and squeezing at the plush muscle. It was like the longer his mouth stayed on you, the hungrier he got.

You were rapidly starting to lose yourself in the pleasure, and you hold his hair to ground yourself. Your fingers thread through the strands until your nails gently dig into his scalp, and Armin hums at the new sensation.

His lips part from your clit and down to your slit as he licks the drooling mess on your cunt. A thick, slurp noise erupts from him when his tongue pushes past your folds and soaks his mouth with your juices. The noise you let out would put porn to shame, and you can't help but grip Armin's hair tighter as you ride his tongue until your thighs tremble under his hold.

"Close …" you trail off with a moan.

Armin continues to work you open with his tongue and kiss your folds, his eyes dark and hazy with lust as he stares up at you. Maybe it's the way his nose nudges your clit, or the fact that he's clutching the base of his length to calm himself down, but you topple over with a shaky exhale as your cunt spasms around his mouth. Your toes curl into your comforter as your thighs trap Armin, who's still tenderly sucking and swallowing the come spilling out of you.

Eventually, your hips start to writhe away in overstimulation, and he slowly pulls away from your core, looking as disheveled as you. His hair is messy from your death-grip and his eyes are glazed over, but what's the most damning is his bright pink, swollen mouth and the shine that glistens his chin. His chest is heaving, deep breaths syncing up with yours.

"I'm guessing I did alright then?" he asks.

"Something like that," you heave out, still reeling from your orgasm. Your eyes dart down to the lower part of his face. "Um, sorry for the mess."

"Hm?" He follows your gaze and blinks. "Oh, that's fine. I mean, it would probably look bad on my part if it wasn't." Armin wraps the bottom of his shirt into his fist and uses it to wipe off his chin, steeping the fabric with you. You don't think he realizes how attractive that is. "That reminds me, did you want the shirt on or off?"

Definitely doesn't realize.

"On for sure," you murmur, staring at the drying, white stain on the dark green of his shirt, "though I would definitely like to see it off next time."

"Hmm, I like that."

"What—being shirtless?"

"That there's going to be a 'next time'," he blushes. "I know we said we liked each other and all that, but I don't know, I guess it's nice to hear a confirmation of it."

You push on your hands and sit up, your face right under Armin's as you try (and fail) to smooth down his hair. "I like it too." You peck his cheek, watching his flush deepen. "Now, I'm going to need you to take off your pants. I'm dying to see your dick."

He chuckles, leaning into you for a chaste kiss. You can feel his grin against yours. "Hopefully you weren't picturing anything crazy in your fantasies. I'm pretty average."

"With how hot you are, I'm sure it'll be the prettiest, most average dick ever."

"Thanks? I think," he questions, fiddling with the button of his pants as he stands up. A sense of pride flows through you when you see the dark spot of precome on his plaid boxers, the light blue stripes looking shades darker under the stain. You already have a faint idea of what his dick would look like, based on how it was pressing against his clothes, but when he finally exposes himself to you, your brain freezes and has to reboot.

Armin wasn't being modest, he really was an average size, not that any of that mattered to you. But you too were honest earlier, because it really was the prettiest dick ever. You admired the way his hair around his base was neatly trimmed; it was also a tad darker than the happy trail above it, meaning your daydreams were both erotic and accurate.

As you made your way up his length, you could see how his tip was shiny from his precome, and how he looked so hard that it made you throb back in sympathy. With his size, you probably had a decent shot of deep throating all of him, and you were more than eager to try and find out.

You're an animal on the prowl as you start crawling toward the edge of your bed, staring at Armin with big, hungry eyes. "Need you in my mouth," you purr, and his cock twitches in response. Your wanting mouth is right in front of his tip, and just when you're about to revel in the salty taste of him, he winces and yanks you by your hair until you're at least a foot away from him.

"Shit—sorry." His hand clasps around his cock with such vigor, you're worried that's he going to pop a vein. He tightens his grip one more time before letting go with a relieved sigh. When he looks back at you, his whole body deflates and he hangs in head in embarrassment.

"Sorry, that was totally out of line," he says, shaking his head. "That sounds really hot, but I'm like, this close to coming." He winces again, as if the mere thought of coming was about to send him over the edge. "I think I got more worked up from eating you out than I realized, so I probably won't last much longer, and I really want to come while I'm inside you. Is—is that okay?"

You weren't sure if you should mention that you quite liked how hard he pulled at your hair, or how hearing how worked up he got from you was such a turn-on. It was white noise compared to him basically begging to fuck you.

"More than okay," is what you end up saying, a sly smirk forming. "Do you still want me to ride you?"

"God yes. Please do that, fuck," he rambles, frantically agreeing.

"Alright," you reply, your smile turning mischievous when you notice that how his cock is bobbing so close to your face. With Armin still in his daze, you couldn't help but send a quick kiss to the head of his dick. A sharp gasp escapes him as he nearly keels at the contact, gripping himself again.

"Jesus—fuck!" His face is as red as his tip, and his knees buckle so hard you're worried you completely broke him. "You're such a—oh god—I don't even know what to call you I'm so fucking horny. Please keep going before I blow my load on your floor," he begs, ignoring the amusement on your face.

Armin looks delirious when you guide him back to your bed, if he had his glasses on (and you'll be sure he does next time) they would probably be a fogged-up mess with how heavy he's breathing. Excitement courses through you thinking of how much worse he'll be when he actually feels you.

Without a second thought, you swing your hips over him and support yourself on the top of his chest. You lean forward and kiss his lips, the tangy taste of your come still lingering on him as he weakly kisses back. Your nose bumps against his as you mutter, "Is now a bad time to mention that I'm on birth control?"

His groan is borderline agonizing. "It is if you're trying to go for longer than a minute."

"Hey, give yourself some credit. I bet you can make it for at least two."

He wants to banter back, but the conversation soon ceases when he feels the wetness of your folds soaking his shaft, the two of you whimpering at the feeling. Armin feels velvety under your grasp, and when his head prods at your entrance, his stomach clenches and his hands fly to your hips. You feel his fingers dig into your flesh as he restrains himself from pushing into you, letting you take him at your own pace.

Even with how soaked you were, and how well his tongue worked you open, the stretch was still overwhelming. You have to pause halfway down his length and take a deep breath, your cunt giving Armin a small squeeze as you take a deep breath. He's staring in complete wonder at the sight of where you two meet, awestruck at the way your hole swallows his cock.

In all of your fantasies, this part was always the fuzziest: your fingers were never enough to replicate your visions, too short and too small to imagine as Armin. But now, as you're buried to the hilt and your heart is in your throat, you're realizing that even your dreams couldn't live up to the real deal.

Armin was the perfect length for you, and the thought makes you swell with fondness. The fullness stretches you so good. The longer you sit on him, the likeliness that you won't last much longer than him increases.

"—fuck, you're so tight," he sighs, "this is better than anything I could've imagined."

You laugh, though it comes off a bit strained. It was like he read your mind, which would have terrified you less than a day ago. Now you want nothing more than for him to know just how obsessed you are.

"I'm gonna start moving now," you say. Armin bites his lip and adjusts his hold on your waist, anticipating your next movements.

The wind is immediately knocked from him when you rock your hips, the drag of your cunt on his cock is all but torturous with how good it feels. Your rhythm is awkward for the first bit, angles varying a couple of degrees here and there while you try to find what feels best. Though to be honest, it all feels amazing. If Armin was able to focus on anything other than his breathing, he would probably agree.

The next roll draws a surprised moan from you, the new angle hitting a spongy spot that makes your eyes roll back. Chasing the feeling, you pick up your pace and start bouncing on Armin's cock, wet, smacking noises echoing where your ass meets his skin. It blends in wonderfully with the creaking of your bed frame and Armin's guttural groans.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, you take me so well. Your pussy is so perfect," he says in awe.

You whimper at his praise and your cunt throbs in response. It makes Armin curse under his breath. "It's so deep in me, Min," your voice comes out hoarse. "Your cock feels so good."

"Yeah?" he asks. His hands lower, his fingers pressing into the swell of your ass and helping your lift yourself up and down his length. "Fuck, don't stop then. Take what you want."

His words make you gasp, spurring you on. Your nails dig into his shirt like you're clawing for the pale skin underneath, and your movements become fervid as you relentlessly slam yourself down on his cock. When you feel a burn zip through your thighs as you start to lose stamina, you quickly switch your motions and grind hard against the base of Armin's length, circling and poking that delicious spot deep that sends sparks through your nerves.

Your drooling cunt soaks the hair around his cock up to the edge of his shirt. Armin looks down and moans, "You're making such a mess on me. Want you to come on my cock so bad. Can you do that?"

You nod so fast your head spins. The pit in your stomach tightens as your legs start to shake, your movements growing tired as you try to push through and find your peak. Armin catches your frustrated whines and shifts under you. Confused, you purposefully slow yourself down, ready to ask if he's okay, but any concern is erased from your consciousness when you feel a wet press of his thumb rub against your swollen clit.

"Oh fuck—right there. I'm gonna come, Min," you say with a hard clench. Your previous exhaustion is forgotten as adrenaline gives way, the added pleasure sending you into overdrive. His thumb flicks your clit the same time you slam down, and your mouth drops open in a silent scream, your cunt unrelenting as you come, holding Armin inside you like a vice.

"Shit—you're gripping me so tight. Come here," he pleads, but it's more of a demand when his hands slide to your back and push you into his chest. It's more teeth than mouth when he tries to kiss you, lips far too needy to properly meet, but it's satisfying all the same.

Armin's slowly rocking into you, your walls still trembling out the last of your orgasm, and his nails scrape into your sweaty skin as he hisses. "Fuck, I'm gonna come. I want to come so bad," he grunts against your lips.

"Want your come," you whimper back. "Fuck me until you come, please."

The next few moments are a bit cloudy, but somehow you end up rolled onto your back, legs wrapped around Armin as he thrusts into you with abandon. Your cunt feels like it's on the brick of overstimulation, but you welcome the sensitivity when Armin pants into your neck with such desperate determination.

His hips start to stutter and his whole body tenses as he comes with a shudder. You can feel Armin's cock pulse inside you, spurts of thick come covering your walls as he keeps coming and coming, just about crying from the satiation he's finally given in to.

After an especially hard jerk of his hips, he sighs and goes limp into your arms with a small oomph. "I—sorry, just give me a second. Fuck, that was so good. I think you killed me," he half-laughs, trying to catch his breath.

"I don't mind," you smile, sending a peck to the top of his head while you run your fingers through the ends of his hair that stick to his neck. "This is kind of comforting."

"Yeah, it's pretty nice. I just worry that if I stay inside you, I'll just have a permanent boner, and I'm not sure what the health risks are regarding that."

"Thank you?" you joke while Armin sits up with a grunt, his (still hard) cock slipping out of you. You whine at the loss.

He stares at the space where you separate, tongue darting to lick his lips as he looks at your cunt. "Fuck, I came so much inside you, it's starting to leak out," he mumbles. In a trance, his two fingers make its way to the dripping line of come down your slit, collecting the spill and delicately pushing it back inside you.

You're caught by surprise at first, and despite the puffiness of your folds and the near-pain sensation aching inside you, you found yourself craving the possessiveness and the fullness from his release. You don't think Armin fully registers what he's doing until you softly moan at a curl of his fingers inside you, making him quickly retreat out of you.

"Shit, sorry. Too much. That was weird of me," he cringes.

"No no, it's okay. Feels good," you mewl. "Keep going. I want to be stuffed with your come. Please."

Armin checks your face, and when he sees that you're being serious, his eyes darken and his fingers find you again, repeating the pattern of scooping and pumping his come deeper into you. You force your breathing to deepen as you push yourself through the slight sting, a pit of pleasure forming deep in your gut.

Your cunt starts to indulge in the tender feeling, subtly sucking Armin in deeper just when he's about to pull out. "Such a needy pussy …" he says, his words toeing the line between observing and taunting as he keeps moving. "You can't seem to get enough. Guess I have my work cut out for me. Need to make sure you're always full of me."

A chill goes down your spine at the unexpected dirty talk, making you shiver out a small orgasm. It goes as quickly as it comes, but the bliss it leaves still soothes your system. Your come mixes with Armin's and oozes out of you and past his knuckles. It's too much to push back in, much to your dismay, but Armin seems to have other plans.

He scoops your combined releases, but instead of bringing his digits to your entrance, they meet his tongue as he sucks himself clean. A puny noise from your throat escapes you as more of your come starts to leak out of you. Armin seems to understand, because his fingers massage your folds again and he asks, "Wanna taste?"

You don't trust yourself to speak, so you weakly nod and let your mouth loll. Creamy, white fingers dip past your teeth and sit on your tongue before your lips wrap around him. Your sucks are slow and unhurried, savoring the heady saltiness of Armin and the tanginess of you. You let out a sated hum as you swipe your tongue across the tips of his fingers, and out of the corner of your eye you see a twitch from his semi-hard cock. You also notice the ring of cream sitting on the base of his shaft, and you're both embarrassed and aroused at the mess.

"You're amazing," he admires. Armin moves his fingers out of you with a faint pop of your mouth and places them underneath your chin while he leans in. His kisses are different than before, not fiery like the first time, or quick like the ones in between your lewd actions, or even clumsy while he was on the brink of coming.

They're … precious. Loving, even. You hope you kiss him back the same way, despite your deep stupor.

He rolls off you without crushing you as best he can, the two of you lying side by side, looking up and focusing on the weird water stain on your ceiling. If you squint, it kind of resembles a man riding some titan-like creature. Weird.

"Are you okay?" Armin double-checks. "I didn't like, hurt you or anything, right? I know I got carried away at certain parts, and I hope you didn't say yes on my account or anything—"

You kiss the top of his shoulder, smushing the side of your face into your pillow. "I'm fine. Will definitely feel this later today, but fine. I wanted to do it. All of it," you reassure, and Armin relaxes, drawing his attention back to you.

"Okay, another serious question then," he starts, "what exactly about me makes you so …"

"—horny? Ready to fuck you at a moment's notice?"

"Uh, yeah. That," Armin blushes, as if he wasn't literally feeding you his come earlier.

"I don't know, you just look more … you? If that makes sense? I don't think your look necessarily changed how I felt about you romantically. You were always attractive, and you looked great before, don't get me wrong … there's just something about your 'nerdy' look that makes you look like a virgin that would come in his pants, and I guess I'm really into that?" You scowl. "Sorry, that sounds bad. I'm explaining this terribly."

Armin brushes it off with a wave. "It's alright, I think I kinda get it, plus I did almost come in my pants earlier, so you're not wrong there." He purses his lips, trying to think of an explanation. "It's like how certain styles or colors look better on some people compared to others, but more sexual? Everyone has their preferences at the end of the day—I always like those white pajama pants you wear around your place. The ones with the pink flowers on them? I could always see your underwear when you bent over, it drives me crazy."

You scoff in mock offense. "Creep. Why is this the first time I'm hearing this?" You wore those pants all the time, they were the softest pair you owned and a personal favorite of yours. Maybe all those wash cycles thinned out the material, though.

"Like I said, you're not the only one with a dirty mind. And who are you calling a creep?" He bumps your shoulder with his. "You came how many times? Once from me barely fingering them, might I add."

You cross your arms with a huff, wishing you were under your blanket so something could cover your naked body. "In my defense, I didn't expect to be so pent up, or for you to be so good at … everything." You grow warm recounting his skilled tongue and thick cock.

"Would it turn you on if I said I learned most of it from webtoons?" he smirks.

You cover your face in shame and let out a dramatic groan. "Ugh, yes. Why is that so hot?" The bed shakes as he laughs. At least he's entertained.

There's a stretch of comfortable silence afterward. You eventually pull your hands away from your eyes and bask in the afterglow. A part of you wants to scream in your pillow and kick your feet up like a schoolgirl. Another part of you wants to crawl into Armin's chest and slump your body into his. They're both silenced by the puddle forming underneath you. You're now extremely aware of how sticky you are, and you can't help but recoil a little.

"I should probably clean myself up." An idea forms in your head. "… would you want to take a shower with me? Might be easier that way, and I wouldn't mind seeing you shirtless a bit sooner."

He narrows his eyes at you. "Are you trying to wash yourself or check me out?"

"I can multitask. What, you don't want to shower with me?"

"Oh I definitely do," he clarifies, coming closer into your space. "I never got the chance to check out your butt. Without pants on, that is."

The back of your hand lazily smacks his chest. You start picturing the warm water of the shower and Armin's hands denting your skin as he takes you from behind, your chest and hands pushed against the steamy glass of the door as you leave imprints for future you to find. A memory of Armin's cock pounding into you until you saw stars. You wonder if he could leave another memory on your ass too, spanking you until your skin is sore and tingling.

"Oh wow, are you doing it? Are you having a fantasy right now?" Armin asks, sitting up on his arm to get a better look at you.

You tune back in, blinking away your dream. "Huh? What?"

"You just spaced off and started breathing weird," he points out. "Were you thinking about me just now?"

"Maybe …" A beat. "Yes."

You can't believe Eren actually made a correct observation about you. Were you really that obvious? Mortification takes over as you try to scrub out the dream from your head. You literally just had sex. Great sex, in fact. You should at least wait a few hours before you start conjuring up erotica in your mind.

In your spiral, Armin grabs your hand and traces circles on your wrists. "Well, if you want, we could turn it into a reality," he offers, sending a kiss to your knuckles.

"What—right now?"

"Sure, why not? I don't have much going on today," he shrugs.

"I mean, I don't either but … don't you think you might need a minute? You know. Down there."

Armin lets out an awkward laugh. "Yeah … I don't think you need to worry about that." He looks down at his cock. "I don't think it's gone down this entire time. I might need some more help."

Oh. You would very much like to help him with that.

You draw your hand back in and pull yourself up, trying your best to ignore the gush of come that spills out of you. "Alright, don't threaten me with a good time. I am going to need a food break or something afterward, though, so don't get your hopes up for round three." You pause, reconsidering. "At least not right away."

"Fair enough." He rubs the back of his neck as his skin flushes. "If that's the case, maybe I can take you to that bakery that opened up nearby? For a date?"

That shouldn't turn you on so much, but it does. It also makes your heart sing and your stomach flutter, and your cheeks are about to cramp with how hard you're beaming.

"I would love it if my boyfriend took me out on a date."

Armin's dick twitches and he gulps. "Okay, yeah, I'm definitely ready for whatever you're planning. Please call me your boyfriend again."

You barely get out the words, "I want my boyfriend to bend me over in the shower," before Armin is dragging you to your bathroom with a grin on his face.

[cinnasite]

nerd gone viral ( ˶°ㅁ°) !!

꩜ pairing: nerd!armin arlert x female reader

꩜ warnings: explicit content, language

꩜ word count: 3.7k

꩜ synopsis: a harmless campus interview turns your best friend into an overnight internet sensation—and suddenly, every thirsty TikTok comment feels like it’s whispering your secret.

☆ art cred: @/juvianism on instagram :3

You nearly spill your coffee all over your Political Theory textbook when you unlock your phone. Another two hundred comments on that TikTok. You know you shouldn't check—you probably watched it about a million times yesterday alone—but your fingers move before your brain can scream at you to stop.

@/bookslvt01: ok but the way he talks about virginia woolf??? NEED HIM CARNALLY @/colossalthighs: i’d let him annotate my entire body fr @/arlertmeout: he looks like he apologises before choking you

You bite your lip, half-entertained and half-horrified, scrolling through the endless comments under what was supposed to be an innocent campus interview. The video has 2.3 million views now, completely insane for something filmed outside the modest main library—the same one you find yourself in at the moment—on a random Tuesday.

"Ugh, don’t tell me. You're watching it again, aren't you?"

Your head snaps up comically quick, caught red-handed, to find Sasha sliding into the seat across from you at your usual table, eyeing your phone screen with knowing amusement. 

"What? No."

"You are! You have that weird, glazed look in your eyes. The same one you get when Professor Ackerman extends the deadline for our research papers." Sasha unwraps what appears to be her third sandwich of the day. You don't mention how it’s only twelve in the afternoon. "You know you could just talk to him about it, right? He's literally one of your best friends."

"And say what exactly?" you finally close the godforsaken app, trying to ignore how your screen time report is definitely going to be embarrassing this week. "Hey Armin, I've watched your viral video more times than I can remember and I'm having very inappropriate thoughts about your tongue piercing that I absolutely shouldn't be having about my friend?"

Sasha snickers, a piece of lettuce tumbling to the table from her mouth. "Well, when you put it like that... actually, yes. One hundred percent that."

"Sasha, I can't just—" you frown in frustration, inhaling deeply. "It's complicated."

"How is it complicated? You've had a crush on him since freshman year."

"That was different. That was before we became friends. Before I knew him." You lean back in your chair, staring at the ceiling as fond memories overwhelm you. "Back then he was just this cute, nerdy guy in my intro psych class who got excited about statistical analysis and always smelled like that vanilla body wash I love. I used to sit behind him just to watch him get all animated during discussions about cognitive behavioural theory, you know?"

Sasha merely rolls her eyes. "Jesus, and you call me demented. Well, what about now?"

"Now? Now, he's Armin. He's my friend who stays up until 3 A.M. to help me with my assignments, who brings me soup when I'm sick, who texts me the dumbest memes about historical figures," you slump forward, close to pouting. "He's the guy who spent six hours teaching me how to play that MMO he's obsessed with just because I mentioned being bored over winter break. He's..."

"He's the guy you're infatuated with," Sasha supplies helpfully.

"I'm not," you start to protest, then wisely opt to give up instead. "Okay, maybe. But that's exactly the problem. I can't risk blowing up our friendship just because some stupid interview made me realise I want to climb him like a tree."

"A tree with a tongue piercing," Sasha adds with a cheeky grin.

"Fuck’s sake, don't remind me," you let your head rest against the table. "Do you know how many times I've replayed that two-second clip where he licks his lips? It's pathetic."

"It's not pathetic, it's kind of sweet. There's a difference." Sasha takes another bite of her sandwich, her eyes evidently lighting up. "Besides, you don't know that he doesn't feel the same way. Have you seen how he looks at you during our study sessions? Boy's got it bad."

"He looks at me like a friend, Sasha. Because that's what we are."

"Believe me, friends don't look at friends the way he looked at you last Friday when you were explaining your thesis argument. I thought he was going to combust from sexual tension."

Before you can blatantly disagree, you hear an all too familiar voice behind you.

"Sexual tension about what now?"

Your stomach drops directly through the floor. You turn around carefully, and there he is—Armin Arlert, campus's newest digital sensation, standing there with that signature bemused expression he gets when he catches you and Sasha gossiping. His blonde hair is mussed like he's been running his hands through it, and he's wearing that adorable blue sweater that brings out his eyes deliciously.

"Oh, um..." You scramble for an explanation, panicking on the inside. "We were just talking about... about..."

"About how Professor Ackerman's lectures are basically academic foreplay," Sasha jumps in smoothly. "All that tension and buildup with no satisfying conclusion. I mean, hello?"

Armin laughs, the sound warm and comforting. "That's fascinatingly accurate, I’ll admit." He shifts his weight, and you only then notice he's carrying his laptop bag and what seems to be a bag of takeout. "Mind if I join you? I brought Thai food and figured you might be hungry since you've been here since—," he checks his phone, "—9 A.M., according to the text you sent complaining about how it’s criminal that the library opens so early on weekends."

Your heart does a little flip at his consideration. "You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to." He slides into the chair next to you, close enough that you can smell his cologne—a rich blend of velvety caramel and toasted cinnamon that positively makes you want to lick him all over. 

Stop. None of that, you horny bastard.

"Besides, I figured you might want to hear about the latest developments in my accidental internet fame."

Sasha perks up at once. "Hell, yeah. Have you been recognised on campus yet?"

"Five times yesterday," Armin appears to lament, pulling containers out of the bag. "Including once in the bathroom, which was... awkward, to say the least." He hands you your usual order without asking what you want. "But the weirdest part is definitely the DMs."

"DMs?" you pipe up, failing to ignore how domestic this feels what with him knowing exactly what you like. Typical, precious Armin.

"You have no idea," he opens his laptop and turns it toward you two with a nervous twitch. "I've gotten marriage proposals, offers to 'show me a good time,' and at least a hundred messages asking about my tongue piercing specifically."

Your face burns as you push away the thought that you've been mentally composing similar messages. "That's... wow."

"The worst part is, most of them are asking if I'd be interested in demonstrating its uses." He fidgets with his glasses, coming across as embarrassed but also endearing. "I had no idea that thing would cause such a reaction."

"Well, it is pretty noticeable," Sasha remarks with a meaningful peek at you. "Very... attention-grabbing."

"I guess." Armin glances at you pointedly. "What do you think? You've seen the video, right?"

The question is innocent enough, but something in his tone makes you look at him more carefully. There's an out-of-the-ordinary implication that you can't quite put your finger on. "Uh... yeah, I've seen it," you manage to croak out. Terrific. Could you get any stiffer?

"And?"

"And what?"

"What did you think?"

You stare at him blankly, trying to figure out if this is a normal friend question or if you’re incorrectly perceiving the foreign edge of curiosity behind it. "I thought... I mean, your book recommendations were really good. Very passionate."

"Passionate," he repeats, the fleeting flash of understanding across his face confirming your earlier weariness. "That's interesting."

Sasha's phone cuts through the uneasiness with its incessant buzzing, and she scans it with obviously fake surprise. "Oh no, would you look at that. I have to go... meet... someone... about... a... very real thing... I have." She begins gathering her stuff with awfully suspicious speed. "You two have fun talking about books. And passion. And tongue piercings."

"Huh? Wait. Sasha—" you squeak out, but she's already dashing out of the private study room you had booked for the both of you until late afternoon (traitor). Which leaves you alone with Armin, who's scrutinising you with an expression you can't quite read.

"Alright," he speaks after a moment, closing his laptop and leaning back in his chair. "Want to tell me what you actually thought about the video?"

"I already told you."

"No, you gave me the safe answer." He tilts his head slightly, studying you with purpose. "Come on, we've been friends for two years. I know when you're holding back."

You hastily shove some noodles in your mouth, avoiding his gaze. "I'm not holding back."

"Really? Because Sasha seemed to think you had some important opinions about it."

You make a mental note to start drafting your plan for the girl’s well-deserved comeuppance. "Sasha talks too much."

"She does," Armin agrees. "But she's usually right about things. Especially when it comes to you."

The rarely there confidence in his tone makes you look up and, when you meet his gaze, the intensity catches you off guard. "What do you want me to say?"

"Did you know," he continues conversationally, "that TikTok shows you analytics about who's viewed your videos?"

Almost instantly, your heart stops. "What?"

"Mhm. Very detailed analytics. Including multiple views from the same account." His lips quirk up in a small smile. "Want to guess how many times your account shows up in my viewer list?"

You feel heat creeping up your neck. "I don't know what you're talking about." You briefly consider denying reality, blaming a technical issue, or claiming a glitch in the matrix—but none of it sticks.

"Seventy-seven times," he announces, the metaphorical checkmate hitting you straight in the chest. "As of this morning."

Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god. He knows. "I can explain—"

"Can you?" He angles himself forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Because I've been trying to figure out why my very good friend has watched a boring thirty-second video of me talking about books seventy-seven times."

You want to run away, mouth opening and closing like a fish. "I... the algorithm is weird sometimes?"

Armin chuckles, low and warm, absent of any malice. "Try again."

"I was checking to see if the view count was going up?"

"Nope."

You're quiet for a long moment, trying to figure out how to get out of this without completely humiliating yourself. You don't suppose it's too late to jump out of a window? Ultimately, you sigh in defeat. "Okay, fine. Maybe I watched it a few times."

"A few?"

You narrow your eyes, crossing your arms in defiance at the unsolicited endless interrogation. "More than a few."

"How many more?"

You want to strangle him, and not in the sexy way. "You’re being annoying."

"Come on." His voice has dropped slightly lower, and there's something almost akin to teasing in it. "I told you about the marriage proposals. Fair's fair."

You mutter a profanity under your breath, groaning. "Fine. I watched it a lot. Happy?"

"No. We’re getting there, though. Why?"

"Why what?"

Armin’s glee sharpens into something ravenous, a flicker of desperation lurking beneath his carefree demeanour—like he’s itching for you to say exactly what he needs. "Why did you watch it seventy-seven times?"

Your lungs feel too tight, too exposed. "Because..."

"Because?"

"Because you looked really good, okay?" The words come out in a rush. "Because watching you talk about literally anything is incredibly attractive, and because that frustrating part where your tongue piercing shows has been tormenting me ever since the video came out."

The silence that follows is eerily deafening. Armin simply stares at you, and you wish the ground would swallow you whole.

"Shit," you grumble, burying your face in your hands. "I'm sorry. That was completely out of line. I know we're friends and I shouldn't have—"

"Hey. Look at me."

The way he asks convinces you to peep through your fingers, reluctant but unable to look away. His expression is attentive and focused—definitely not one of disgust.

"You think I'm attractive?" he questions softly.

"I... yes?"

He blinks, his usual calm shattered by the raw vulnerability in your voice. His fingers tremble, revealing the fierce hope inside that there’s a potential chance that someone sees him as more than the sum of his quirks.  "Even though I'm just a loser who gets excited about obscure paranormal documentaries and spends too much time playing video games?"

"Especially because of that," you admit, having never been more sure of yourself.

His answering smile is slow and devastating. "Good to know."

"Good to know?"

He hums, reaching across the table, and gently pulls your hands away from your face. "I've been wondering if you'd ever see me as more than just your friend who helps you with your homework."

Your brain, without a doubt, malfunctions. "What?"

"Did you really think I started bringing you food and staying up late just because I'm a good friend?"

The words disarm you. You’re trapped between incredulity and the dawning comprehension of what he might be suggesting. "I…"

"And did you think I learned how to play your favourite songs on guitar just because I had time to spare?"

"Y-you said you wanted to practice—"

"And I presume you thought I got this piercing because I was feeling rebellious?"

That stops you short, confusion apparent in the furrow of your brows. "You didn't?"

Armin's grin turns almost predatory. "I got it because I overheard you and Sasha talking about how cool you find them. This was back in October, after you'd been dating that guy with the lip ring."

You feel like a kettle left on the stove too long. "You... what?"

"You said, and I quote, 'There's something about tongue piercings that's beyond exciting.’ Something along the lines of how the person has to be bold enough to get it, but there's the simultaneous insinuation of what they can do with it."

"I’m going to kill myself," you gape at him in horror. "You heard all of that?"

"I was sitting right behind you in the campus coffee shop. You weren’t exactly shy about it." He shifts closer, and you can spot the hint of silver when he speaks, "I made an appointment that very afternoon."

"You got a tongue piercing because of something I said about another guy?"

"I got a tongue piercing because I wanted to be the guy you were talking about."

The confession hangs in the air between you, charged and electric. You stare at him, trying to process this complete change in everything you thought you knew about your friendship. 

"I've been trying to get your attention for months. I was starting to think I'd have to do something drastic."

In spite of being made to face terrifying revelation after revelation, you manage to stutter out a breathless laugh. "More drastic than getting a tongue piercing for me?" 

"I was considering learning to play your favourite video game."

You snort despite yourself. "You hate that game."

He shrugs casually, as if the lengths to which he would go for you knew no bounds. "I know. That's how desperate I was getting."

The atmosphere between you feels tense now, full of possibility and two years of unspoken tension. Armin traces your knuckles and the simple touch sends heat shooting up your arm.

"So," you say, trying to stay as composed as you possibly can. "What happens now?"

"Now," he starts, standing up, "you tell me what exactly you were thinking about during those seventy-seven views."

He's close enough that you have to tilt your head back to look at him, and the unwavering want in the blue of his eyes makes your breath catch. "I was thinking..." you trail off, feeling timid with his attention on you.

"You can do it. Use your words for me?" his voice has gotten rougher, huskier, and it sends delightful shivers down your spine.

"I was thinking about what it would feel like."

"What would feel like?"

"Your piercing. When you..." You gesture vaguely, cheeks burning. Armin's hand comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing across your bottom lip. "When I what?"

"When you kiss me," you whisper.

"Just kissing?" The question is loaded with underlying intentions, and you shake your head slowly.

"Tell me what else you were thinking about."

"Armin..."

"Please." The plea is hushed but insistent. "I want to know what's been going through your head."

You swallow, your throat suddenly dry as you let go of the entirety of your self-restraint. "I was thinking about what it would feel like on my body. What it would feel like when you use your mouth on me."

His pupils immediately dilate at your words. "Fuck."

"Is that... is that okay?"

Instead of verbally affirming, he leans down and kisses you. It's gentle at first, tentative, but when you react by fisting your hands in his sweater and pulling him closer, he deepens it. The first brush of his tongue against yours has you gasping, and when you feel the metal of his piercing, it sends intoxicating pleasure shooting through you.

You break apart, breathing heavily, and Armin rests his forehead against yours.

"How was that?" he asks earnestly, voice raspy.

"Good," you breathe. "Really good."

His smile is full of care but there's primal desire behind it. "And the piercing?"

"Want more of it."

He brushes his thumb across your lip again. Truth be told, it’s plain torture. "You know, we're in public right now."

Every wall you built is crumbling under the weight of him, and all you can do is let it. "I know."

"Anyone could walk by and see us."

"I know."

"And you don't care?"

You drag your hand up his thigh, stopping just shy of where he clearly wants it, "Not even a little bit."

He kisses you again, harder this time, and you can't help the soft moan that escapes when his tongue meets yours in another dance of display. The sound seems to flip a switch in him, because his hands are tangling in your hair and he's pressing you back against your chair.

"God, you have no idea how long I've wanted to do this," he murmurs against your lips.

"Tell me ‘Min."

"Since freshman year. Since that first day in psych class when you argued with Professor Smith about the ethics of behavioural modification."

You draw away just barely, shaking under the intimacy of his declaration. "That long?"

"That long." He doesn’t think twice before trailing his teeth along your jaw, and when the metal of his piercing digs into your flushed skin, you whimper needily. 

"You were so assertive, so brilliant. I was completely and utterly gone."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because you were dating that business major asshole, and then when you broke up, we became friends,” he hesitantly halts his ministrations to flutter his eyelashes at you, “I-I didn't want to ruin it." 

Good heavens, you didn’t stand a chance from the beginning.

"But then you kept looking at me like... like you wanted me too, and I started hoping..."

"I did want you. I do want you." The admission comes out whinier than intended, but you can’t bring yourself to be bothered at this point. "So much."

His hands tighten in your hair. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You’re unaware of how many minutes pass as you lose yourself in the sensation of his mouth on yours, and the way he tastes like mint and something uniquely him. You dig your nails lightly into his sides, claiming him in an act of fervent possession. His breaths mingle with yours and the world outside your tangled bodies fades until there’s nothing but lust burning between you. By the end of it, your chests rise and fall in tandem.

"We should probably get out of here," he mumbles, peeking around the library.

Craving Armin has left you dazed, vision glassy as you attempt to make sense of your surroundings. "Right. Um, your place or mine?"

He pecks your nose, full of affection, tenderly guiding you. "Mine. My roommate's gone for the weekend."

You start gathering your things with shaky hands, hyperaware of the way Armin is observing you. When you bend over to pick up your bag, you hear his sharp intake of breath.

"Something wrong?" you ask innocently.

"N-nothing," he mutters, skittishly pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

The walk to his dorm feels like it takes forever, full of stolen glances and the kind of anticipation that makes your skin feel too tight. When you reach his room, he fumbles with his keys for a moment—so fucking cute—before getting the door open.

You haven’t had a lot of time this semester to crash at his dorm—neat and organised, with anime posters on the walls and stacks of books and manga everywhere. But you barely have time to take it in before he's pressing you against the closed door, urgency lacing his actions.

This time, there's nothing apprehensive about it. His hands are everywhere—your waist, your back, squeezing your ass—and when you arch against him, he makes a low sound of approval.

"You taste so good," he shudders against you. "Everything I’ve imagined and so much more."

"You imagined this?"

"Every night for two years." His mouth moves to your neck, nibbling along your throat. "What you'd look like, what you'd sound like when I made you come."

The words send heat pooling low in your belly, prompting you to press your thighs together instinctively. "Fuck, don’t say shit like that.”

"Why not? I’ve been longing for you. All of you," he whispers, pulling back to look at you with dark, lidded eyes. "You’re not getting away until I’ve had my fill."

It would be an understatement to say that you hadn’t foreseen this when you woke up today. That you'd be spending hours with your legs over Armin's shoulders, forgetting your own name; the compassionate, stammering genius the internet drooled over. Too bad he’s not on the market. It would be a treat if his fans could see him like this—flushed and breathless, fingers gripping your hips like he’d die without you. Armin Arlert, golden boy of TikTok, practically begging to let him ruin you.

You grow dizzy at the promise in his voice. "Please."

He lets his hand trail lower, indecently tranquil, and just as you think he’ll do something reckless—he pauses, smirking wickedly.

"Want to find out what this piercing really feels like when I eat you out?"

[saatorus]

cyberboy come home to me!

art credits: @musapylsa

synopsis — you just really love shy, nerdy, awkward armin arlert. not to mention how much you adore his tongue piercing.

wc — 5.4k

warnings — oral (f receiving), brief m receiving oral, unprotected sex, dom! kinda reader? armin is a loser virgin, tongue piercing fixation, mentions of drinking and getting high.

“Ah… I’m not sure if we should be— mmph!”

Armin downright whimpers when you silence his protest with a soft giggle and press your lips to his again, cupping his cheek like you’re trying to ease him into it. He kisses back, but it’s clumsy—his lips too hesitant, his breath shaky. The way his slightly clammy hands tremble as they slide awkwardly onto your waist gives him away completely. His fingers twitch like he’s unsure if he’s even allowed to touch you, like he’s expecting to be jolted awake from some perverse fever dream at any second.

You smile into it. He tastes a little like fruit punch and nerves.

How’d he even end up like this?

Honestly? He’s not entirely sure himself.

All he knows is that about an hour ago, he’d been forcibly dragged out of his safe, sacred little sanctuary—his room—by none other than Eren Jaeger, who’d called him a “shut-in loser” with all the affection of a lifelong best friend trying to get his social recluse ass to touch grass for once. “Just come out for one night,” Eren had said. “You never hang out anymore. You just rot in front of that stupid computer!”

That “stupid computer,” by the way, is the love of Armin’s life. A lovingly hand-built, high-performance rig that he’d spent months putting together with trembling excitement and a YouTube tab permanently open. The tower is pure art—transparent case with perfectly routed cable management, cool-toned RGB fans that change hues with each temperature spike, and a custom water-cooling loop that keeps everything running quieter than a whisper. The inside glows in a soft gradient from blue to violet, illuminating every pristine component like a spaceship console. His mechanical keyboard clicks satisfyingly under his fingers, each custom PBT keycap matte and worn in just enough. The desk is outfitted with dual curved monitors, a steelseries headset perched on a 3D-printed stand, and a carefully arranged line of anime figurines—each one dusted weekly.

He lives there. He thrives there. Not out here.

So when he’d first stepped foot into the frat house—blinking under dim purple lights, instantly accosted by the stench of sweat, alcohol, Axe body spray, and weed—he’d wanted to turn and run. Connie had looped an arm around his neck before he could so much as take a step back, dragging him further inside like a lamb to slaughter.

He would’ve given anything to be home. Back at his setup. Back where he could peacefully queue up for League of Legends or post a hot take on a message board about dungeon tier lists. His teammates were probably on Discord right now, wondering why his little green light hadn’t turned on tonight.

That was then.

Somehow– Somehow, in the haze of being drunk or high out of their minds— Eren was out of it, Connie was asleep on Sasha’s lap, whose head was on a knocked out Jean’s shoulder. Mikasa, for how composed she usually was, was slumped next to Eren, his hand wrapped around hers— you had managed to finally snag the shy boy to yourself.

You’d only recently started hanging out with the gang, weaving your way into their circle with a kind of natural confidence Armin found both mesmerizing and terrifying. You’re funny. Loud in a charming way. You speak your mind, talk to Eren and Mikasa like you’ve known them for years, and make sly little jokes that leave Connie wheezing. Even Sasha likes you—and she doesn’t like anyone new.

But around you, Armin turns into scrambled code. He avoids eye contact. Stumbles over his words. Does that thing where he pushes up his glasses like a reflex even when they’re already in place.

And it wasn’t hard to realize that Armin liked you.

He wasn’t subtle—not in the way he’d glance up from his phone screen when you laughed a little too loudly, or the way his ears would burn pink every time you plopped down next to him during hangouts, hips brushing, thighs touching just barely. He'd sit there stiffly, eyes wide behind his glasses, thumbs still tapping away at whatever gacha game or tactics RPG he was grinding, pretending not to notice how your perfume clung to the air between you like static.

You’d catch him staring sometimes—well, more than sometimes. Once when you bent over to grab a charger, and again when you wore that cropped shirt with the worn-out neckline, his gaze getting stuck right where your collarbone dipped into something just a bit more scandalous. But he’d always look away just in time, pretending to clean his glasses or scroll deeper into Reddit threads.

The boy was practically a walking Tumblr post from 2013. Always in those oversized hoodies with the sleeves too long, fingers tucked halfway into the cuffs, his laptop stickers flaking off from years of aggressive clicking. His room, as you’d come to discover later, was nothing short of a digital command center. Dual monitors—one vertical, one horizontal—cast a cold RGB glow over his unmade bed and tangle of charging cables. His mechanical keyboard clicked loud enough to echo through the dorm floor, each keystroke deliberate. Rows of Funko Pops lined the top of his bookshelf, mostly anime characters and one out-of-place Miku figurine he shyly claimed was "cute."

And that chair—God, that chair. It was one of those ridiculous ergonomic gaming thrones with a headrest, a lumbar support pillow, and armrests that he always adjusted like he was gearing up for war. You could tell it was his pride and joy, considering how he refused to let anyone else sit in it. Except, of course, for that one time you snuck in during a group hangout and plopped down in it just to see how far he’d go before breaking—he just stood there, mouth open, shifting awkwardly until he gave up and sat on the floor beside you. Pathetic. Adorable.

So yeah, it wasn’t hard to realize Armin liked you. He was just painfully obvious about it in a way that made you all the more obsessed.

Especially after that day Eren—loud-mouthed, smug Eren—dropped the most shocking bit of information mid-conversation over nachos and beer.

“Guess who finally let me bully him into getting a tongue piercing?”

Your head had snapped around so fast it almost gave you whiplash. "You're kidding."

Eren had just grinned like the devil himself. “Nope. Took him to the place on 8th. Cried like a bitch but hey, he’s got it now.”

You’d turned to look at Armin, who was red as a tomato, sipping his Sprite like he wished he could disappear behind the carbonation. He didn’t even deny it.

You haven't been able to stop thinking about it since.

Which brings you to now.

So when all of a sudden, you're sitting next to him on the too-small couch, murmuring something about there being something wrong with your phone, and desperately needing someone to fix it for you, and no, the dim lighting of the living room simply isn’t enough to inspect it properly—you somehow manage to drag him upstairs to one of the empty rooms, thigh pressed a little too close to his as you explain how glitchy your phone is, how you're so sure it must be some kind of weird virus, and wow, isn't that so crazy?

But cut the bullshit. Even Armin knew you were lying.

Phone glitching? Yeah, right. He’d seen your screen time stats by accident once—your camera roll was 95% front-facing selfies, memes, and blurry videos from nights out. He wasn’t stupid. But he was clueless—at least about your intentions.

You’d had a thing for him since day one, not that he knew, obviously. The first time Eren had pulled you into the fold, dragging you into their little friend group like some shiny new accessory, Armin had looked at you like you’d be gone by next week. He wasn’t good with new people—too shy, too stiff, too used to lurking in the background with his legs folded crisscross on the floor and his thumbs tapping away at his phone while everyone else drank and talked over each other.

Even now, when everyone hung out, Armin would be half-present—physically there, tucked into the corner of the room with his hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands, but mentally god knows where. Probably grinding a mobile RPG or replying to a fan theory thread. He liked games where he could build things, micromanage every stat. His phone battery was always draining because he never stopped playing. Long, elegant fingers constantly moving, tapping, swiping. Even when you sat next to him, he couldn’t seem to stop. You once made a joke about how he probably tapped faster during battles than he would during sex.

You remember the way he’d choked on his Redbull.

But now—now he’s stuck. Sitting next to you in a quiet upstairs room, your perfume in his lungs, your thigh pressed right up against his, and your phone held limply between you both like some half-hearted prop.

He keeps glancing at you, lips parted like he wants to say something—anything—but nothing comes out.

“You gonna fix it or just keep staring at my lockscreen?” you tease, your voice low, syrupy sweet.

He blinks, startled, fumbling to grab the phone from your hands with a stuttered apology. “S-Sorry, I—um—yeah, let me just… check the settings, I guess.”

His hands shake slightly as he scrolls, and you bite your lip watching him. The way his jaw tenses, his brows furrow in concentration—it’s endearing. You wonder if he knows how flushed his ears are. You wonder if he knows how loud his breathing is.

You lean in just slightly, enough that your breath brushes the shell of his ear.

“You know,” you murmur, “I still haven’t seen that piercing.”

His entire body jolts. His fingers fumble the phone, almost dropping it in his lap. “W-What?”

You smile innocently, like you don’t already know exactly what you’re doing. “Your tongue. Eren told me. Kinda wanna see it for myself.”

Armin swallows hard, eyes wide as he looks at you like you just asked him to strip naked. “I-I mean, it’s not—It’s nothing, really. I-it’s just… uh…”

“C’mon,” you coax, fingers brushing the side of his knee. “I’m curious.”

He hesitates. Then, shakily, he sticks his tongue out just a little—just enough for the cool glint of metal to catch the light. Your stomach flips.

God, you didn’t expect that to be so hot. On him, of all people.

“You’re full of surprises, Armin Arlert,” you whisper, eyes meeting his.

And you swear to god, if you didn’t know better, you’d say the look in his eyes shifts. Just a little. Like something in him snaps or gives in. Like he’s done pretending he doesn’t know what’s going on.

“…Is your phone actually broken?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

You grin. “Not even a little.”

And for once—for once—Armin smirks.

It's crooked. Barely there. But it's smug in the quietest, most devastating way, because he knows now. You're not here because of some bullshit glitch or broken screen. You're here for him.

The second you lean in, brushing a strand of his blond hair out of his face, he freezes—like a deer caught in headlights. His breath hitches, lips parting just slightly, and his fingers tense where they’re still holding your phone like it’s a lifeline.

“You’ve never kissed anyone before,” you say softly, not a question. Just an observation.

His cheeks flush bright red. He doesn’t answer.

You cock your head, smiling. “That’s okay. I’ll teach you.”

His breath catches again, sharp and audible this time, and he shifts a little like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands—does he drop your phone? Hold it? Hold you?

You take the decision away for him, gently slipping it from his fingers and setting it down on the nightstand. Then, without breaking eye contact, you slowly slide onto his lap, one knee at a time, until you’re straddling his narrow hips, hands settling on his shoulders.

His whole body goes stiff. “Ah… I’m not sure if we should be— mmph!”

You kiss his lips again, silencing him effectively.

“Armin,” you say as you pull back, voice low and amused. “Relax.”

He doesn’t. Not entirely. But his hands hover awkwardly near your waist now, like he’s trying to be respectful, like he’s afraid if he touches you wrong, the moment will combust.

You lean forward, just enough that your noses nearly brush.

“Close your eyes,” you whisper. “Don’t think. Just feel.”

He obeys, lashes fluttering shut. You let your lips graze his, soft and tentative, barely a kiss at all—just enough for him to taste your breath, to feel the warmth of you against his mouth.

He shivers.

You pull back slightly, your voice like silk against his ear. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

He exhales shakily. “It’s… it’s good. You’re… good.”

You smile. “You haven’t even gotten the full lesson yet.”

And then you kiss him.

Really kiss him.

You press your mouth against his fully this time, slow and confident, your lips moving gently over his like you’ve got all the time in the world. He kisses back clumsily at first, a little too much pressure, a little off with the rhythm, but it’s adorable, and you can feel the way his whole body trembles under you.

You guide him with quiet murmurs between kisses. “Slower… softer, yeah… there. Just like that.”

His hands finally land on your waist, unsure at first, then a little firmer when you deepen the kiss, your fingers threading into the hair at the nape of his neck. You part your lips slowly, and when he instinctively mimics you—nervous, but curious—you feel it.

The smooth, cool ball of metal.

You pause just barely, lips still brushing his, a grin curling at the corners of your mouth. “There it is.”

“Huh?” he whispers, dazed.

“That piercing,” you murmur, voice thick with heat. “Feels so fucking good.”

You kiss him again, and this time your tongue finds his. The sensation of the cold stud sliding against yours sends a sharp little jolt straight through your spine. It’s addictive. You roll your hips slightly against his, and he gasps into your mouth, fingers tightening on your waist like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to pull you closer or push you away.

He tastes like mint and nervous energy, and the little helpless noises he lets out when you suck on his bottom lip are enough to make your thighs clench around his lap.

You pull back for a second, just to look at him. His lips are flushed, slightly swollen, eyes glazed with something between awe and pure panic.

“You okay?” you whisper, thumb brushing across his cheek.

He nods, almost too fast. “Y-Yeah. I just—I didn’t know it could feel like that.”

You lean in again, lips ghosting over his jaw. “That’s just the beginning.”

He groans—actually groans—and it’s the hottest fucking sound you’ve ever heard from him. You swear you feel him twitch beneath you. His hips shift slightly, involuntarily, and the friction makes both of you gasp.

You grab a fistful of his hoodie, tugging him back into another kiss, messier this time. Less structured. All tongue and heat and shallow breaths. That piercing catches on your lip as you suck on his tongue, and you moan softly against his mouth.

He's kissing you like he wants to prove something now. Still hesitant, still learning, but eager. Hungry. His hands slide up under your shirt, still shy but bolder than before, fingertips ghosting over the bare skin of your waist.

You roll your hips against him again, deliberately this time, and the noise he makes—somewhere between a whimper and a curse—goes straight to your core.

You smile into the kiss, breathless. “You’re such a quick learner.”

He swallows thickly. “I—I wanna keep learning.”

“Yeah?” You rock against him again, and his eyes flutter shut. “You will.”

You dip your head to press a kiss to his neck, right below his jaw. He gasps, tilting his head back like it’s instinct, and you suck a slow, wet mark into the pale skin, making him jolt beneath you.

“You’re so sensitive,” you whisper. “Bet I could make you fall apart with just my mouth.”

He whimpers.

And fuck, that sound does something to you.

You're grinding against him now, fully, the heat between your legs pressing right against the growing bulge in his pants. The way his hips buck up helplessly, like he can’t stop himself, is intoxicating.

You mouth at his jaw, then his ear, letting your breath tickle the shell of it.

“Armin,” you purr, “do you want me to show you more?”

He looks up at you like he’s ready to beg.

“Yes,” he breathes. “Please. Show me everything.”

You don’t make him ask twice.

You kiss him again, deep and slow, feeling the way he melts into it now. No hesitation—just heat, want, and the softest desperation in how his mouth opens for you like he’s starving. You taste that metal ball again, glide your tongue along it, and the sound he makes—fuck, you’re obsessed.

Your hips move instinctively, grinding down on his lap, and you can feel him. Hard. Pressed right up against your core through his worn out jeans and your shorts. The friction draws a moan from your throat that has his eyes fluttering open, pupils blown wide.

“Fuck,” you whisper, forehead pressed to his. “You’re so hard already.”

He nods, frantic, breath stuttering. “I—yeah, I can’t—I didn’t mean to—”

“Shh.” You cup his jaw, tilt his face up. “Don’t be embarrassed. You think I didn’t want that?”

You shift just a little, rolling your hips down with purpose, dragging your clothed pussy against his cock. He chokes on a gasp, his fingers digging into your waist like he’s trying to stop himself from bucking up into you again. You grab his hand, beckoning him to slip his fingers under your shorts, under the waistband of your panties.

“Feel how wet I am for you?” you murmur, lips brushing his ear.

He nods again, helpless. “Yeah—yeah, I feel it—fuck—”

You smile wickedly and grab the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head in one motion. His mouth drops open.

He stares.

Hard.

Like he’s short-circuiting. Like he’s never seen anyone naked before and can’t figure out where to look. His hands twitch like he wants to touch you but doesn’t know if he’s allowed.

You guide them to your tits.

“Touch me, baby,” you say softly. “It’s okay. You can.”

He swallows hard and palms your breasts gently, reverently, like he’s afraid to squeeze too hard. His thumbs ghost over your nipples and you sigh, arching your back into his touch, giving him a show.

“God, you’re perfect,” he breathes.

“You’re cute,” you reply, pushing your hips down again. “And obedient.”

He whimpers at that.

You roll your hips slow and steady, grinding on him until you feel his thighs start to tremble beneath you.

Then you lean down, lips brushing his. “I want you to eat me out.”

His eyes widen. “I—what? I’ve never—”

“I’ll guide you. Just do what I say.”

You’re already sliding off his lap, standing between his legs and shimmying your shorts and underwear down in one motion. His breath stutters when he sees you like that, bare and dripping, your thighs glistening in the low light.

You make a move to lie back on the bed, but he stops you, pink in the face.

“S–Sorry, I– ah– Can you ride my face? Please?”

He looks like he wants to wipe his existence off the planet because why’d he say that in such a high pitched tone, why’d he stutter like that, why’d his voice crack when he said please, why'd he—

But you just giggle amusedly, pushing him back onto the bed, straddling his face.

His whole body tenses like he’s trying not to combust. “Are you sure you’re okay with thi—?”

You don’t answer. Just lower your hips slowly until you’re hovering just above his mouth.

“Open up.”

He does, and when your pussy presses against his lips, you sigh like it’s relief. He’s clumsy at first—licking too shallow, too soft—but you guide him. “Use your tongue. Flatten it—yeah, just like that. A little harder. Good. Fuck, Armin.”

The moment his tongue finds your clit, you moan, your hips jolting forward. And the pressure of that cold little ball dragging against your most sensitive spot?

It’s over.

You’re grinding on his face now, fingers buried in his soft blond hair, riding him through sloppy, wet licks and messy kisses that leave your thighs shaking. He moans beneath you, hands gripping your hips like he’s into it, like the taste of you is something he wants to memorize. His piercing continuously flicks against your clit, making you whine and shudder, thighs clamping around his head. And soon enough, you’re coming all over his tongue, his name leaving your mouth prettily.

He’s hard again—probably never stopped being hard—and when you finally can’t take it anymore, you slide down his body and palm him through his jeans.

“Fuck,” you breathe, eyes wide as you feel the outline of him. “You’ve been hiding this from me?”

He covers his face with one arm, flushed and overwhelmed. “I didn’t know I’d get like that so fast.”

“You’re adorable.” You lean down and press a kiss just above his waistband. “Let me take care of you.”

He whimpers again.

And when you tug his jeans down, his cock bounces free—hard, flushed, leaking at the tip. You stroke him once, slow and firm, and his whole body jolts.

“Oh my god,” he chokes, hands fisting the sheets. “I—I don’t think I can—”

“You can.” You kiss the head of his cock, swirl your tongue around it just once, and watch him squirm.

Then you straddle him again.

“Wait—” he gasps. “Are you—are we really—”

You line him up with your entrance, slow and steady, and you moan when the tip slips in.

“Fuck yes, baby,” you whisper, eyes fluttering shut as you sink down inch by inch. “You’re inside me.”

He’s panting, chest rising and falling like he’s about to pass out. “You feel… holy shit…”

“Tight?” you tease, grinding down once you’re seated fully.

He nods, eyes wide, mouth open. “I’m not gonna last—”

“You’ll learn,” you murmur, starting to move. “I’m gonna teach you everything.”

And as you ride him—slow, deliberate, dragging every sweet sound out of him—you know for a fact that this won’t be the last lesson. You bounce up and down on him, watching with a gaze full of lust and amusement as he croons your name, head thrown back, drool escaping the side of his lip, thick glasses askew.

He looks like he’s unraveling. Like his brain stopped functioning five minutes ago. Like all he can focus on is the way your cunt squeezes him every time you drop down.

“F-Fuck, you feel so good,” he whimpers, voice cracking with raw need. “I c-can’t… I’m not gonna last…”

You lean forward, letting your chest brush against his, your lips brushing his mouth as you whisper, “That’s okay. Just give it to me.”

His hands are shaking where they grip your hips, but he tries to match your rhythm anyway, pulling you down harder every time your ass slaps against his thighs. He’s trying so hard to keep it together for you—sweet, trembling thing, so eager to please despite how close he is.

“I–I’m gonna– I’m gonna– I don’t have a condom on, I—”

“Don’t worry,” you murmur, kissing the edge of his jaw, tongue flicking over his pulse point. “Just pull out, baby. I’ve got you.”

And it’s like your voice alone is enough to break him.

His grip tightens—frantic, bruising—and you barely have time to lift off before he comes, gasping your name like a prayer. Thick ropes spill over his stomach, twitching cock pulsing as he groans and writhes beneath you, flushed and utterly wrecked. His glasses have slid halfway down his nose, and he’s too dazed to fix them.

You exhale through a low laugh, trailing your fingers through his release before bringing them to your mouth and sucking them clean, just to tease him. His breath stutters at the sight, and his eyes roll slightly as he pants beneath you.

You collapse next to him, both of you catching your breath in the quiet, sticky air. The room smells like sweat and sex and faint body spray, and outside the door you can still hear the low thrum of party music, muffled now like the two of you are in a different world entirely.

He’s quiet. Still. Hands awkwardly covering himself, glasses pushed to the side. You catch the way his lashes flutter, how red his cheeks are, how he refuses to meet your eyes.

You turn on your side, resting your head on one hand. “What’s wrong?”

He swallows hard. “That was my first time,” he says softly. “Like… all of it. Kissing, sex, everything.”

You pause, the weight of his admission settling into the space between you. He glances up at you finally, face filled with anxiety.

“I… I hope I didn’t disappoint you.”

Your heart aches a little.

You reach out and gently remove his glasses, setting them on the nightstand, then cradle his face in your hand.

“Armin,” you say, voice low and sincere, “that was the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced. You have no idea.”

He blinks, surprised.

“You were perfect,” you say, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his forehead. “And I like that it was me. I like being the first.”

His face turns even redder, if that’s possible. “I–I didn’t even know what I was doing.”

“That’s the fun part.” You smile, brushing a strand of his hair off his forehead. “Means I get to teach you everything.”

He hides his face against your shoulder, groaning. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You laugh softly, wrapping your arm around his waist. “You’re such a cutie.”

You lay there together in the silence for a while, his head nestled against your chest, his arms tentatively curling around you like he’s not sure he’s allowed to hold you yet. You run your fingers through his hair, gently tugging here and there, and you feel him relax more and more under your touch.

“You still nervous?” you murmur after a while.

“A little,” he admits, voice muffled. “I just… I’ve never done this. Any of it. I don’t want to mess things up with you.”

You kiss the top of his head. “You’re not. I like you.”

He lifts his head to look at you, shy but hopeful. “Really?”

“Mhm.” You brush your lips against his again. “I’ve liked you since I saw you trailing behind Eren with your stupid oversized hoodie and your Switch in your hands like you were allergic to human interaction.”

He laughs, sheepish. “I kind of am.”

You grin. “And I kind of love that.”

He watches you for a moment, eyes soft and a little awestruck. Then he leans forward, kisses you with all the gentleness and hesitance of someone who’s just now realizing he might be falling for someone, and you smile into it, warm and full and smug.

Because you know you’ve got him.

—

It’s official now. You’re Armin’s girlfriend.

It had happened somewhere between all the blushing kisses and stolen glances and slow, breathy I like you’s whispered in the privacy of his bedroom. There was no dramatic confession, no rose petals or fireworks. Just him looking at you one afternoon with that overwhelmed, adoring gaze, thumb brushing over your knuckles while he mumbled, “Do you, um… want to be mine? Like… officially?”

And you’d kissed him stupid in response.

So now, two weeks later, you’re at his place again, perched sideways on his lap in his gaming chair, legs draped over one armrest while his are stretched beneath the desk, twitching slightly every time something exciting happens on screen.

You’re wearing one of his hoodies—big, soft, and smelling like fabric softener and his shampoo—and nothing else underneath. Which he hasn’t noticed. Yet.

His focus is laser-sharp, blue eyes narrowed behind his glasses, tongue pressed to the corner of his mouth like he’s fighting for his life on whatever boss battle he’s got going. You shift a little, trying to get comfortable in his lap, but he doesn’t even flinch—just grunts something about “just give me a second, babe, I’m in the middle of something.”

And yeah, it’s a little infuriating. But also?

Ridiculously hot.

Like, his headset is way too big on him. He keeps muttering things under his breath about cooldowns and mechanics and DPS output. His fingers are flying across the keys, long and elegant and twitchy, like they were built to type essays at the speed of sound or code random passion projects no one ever asked for.

At one point, he actually shushes you. A little breathy “waitwaitwait– babe, hold on, this guy’s cheesing—oh my god I swear to god if this fucking healer dies I’m gonna—”

You blink. Then snort.

“You’re so nerdy,” you murmur, voice laced with amusement, “I can’t believe this is my boyfriend.”

He doesn’t look up. “You knew what I was when you signed up.”

“Oh, I did.” You lean in, dragging your fingers up the nape of his neck, just under the headset. “And I like it.”

He shudders a little. “You’re distracting me.”

“I know.”

Still, he plays. Fidgety, intense, mouthing instructions to himself like some kind of adorable, socially anxious commander. You watch the screen for a bit, half-understanding what’s happening—some massive raid, particles flying everywhere, his team yelling in the Discord chat you can hear leaking through his headphones. Armin doesn’t talk much, but when he does, it’s surprisingly confident. Precise.

“No, back left! You kite, I’ll stun—good—shit, I got hit, that’s fine, I’ve got mana—”

You shift again. This time a little more deliberately.

His hands pause on the keyboard. “...Are you doing that on purpose?”

You blink at him innocently. “Doing what?”

“You’re… squirming.”

You tilt your head, smiling. “I’m just trying to sit comfortably, Armin. Your thighs are kinda bony.”

“I—what? I—”

He falters. And you know he’s starting to get flustered. Because his hand slips on his mouse, and he curses softly under his breath as his character takes a hit onscreen.

“Can’t believe I’m being insulted and sabotaged right now,” he mumbles.

“I’m your girlfriend,” you remind him, turning so you’re fully straddling him now, knees on either side of his hips, “it’s in the job description.”

He swallows thickly. You can feel him beneath you now—half-hard already, tension building the longer you stay in his lap.

“Please let me finish this fight,” he whispers, jaw tight.

You kiss the edge of it.

“Okay.”

So you wait. Sort of.

You shift again. Start pressing little kisses to his throat. Let your fingers toy with the edge of his shirt, lifting it just slightly. Not enough to distract him fully. Just enough to make him sweat.

By the time he finally mutters a breathless, “Got him, holy shit,” and slumps back in the chair, he’s panting and flushed—and not just from the game.

You lean in, both hands planted on his chest now, smiling sweetly.

“All done?”

He nods.

“Good.” And then you roll your hips once against his, slow and deliberate.

He makes a soft, broken sound in his throat. “Y-You’re evil.”

“Mmhm,” you hum, dipping down to kiss him again, this time deeper, tongue teasing the edge of that stupid metal piercing he still refuses to tell you the story behind.

It’s so easy to ruin him.

His hands flutter uselessly for a second before they land on your hips, gripping like he’s still not sure he’s allowed to touch you. You grind down harder, and he whines into your mouth, glasses fogging up, hips twitching like he’s not in control of his own body anymore.

“Fuck,” he breathes, voice high and shaking. “I’m—I was just trying to game.”

“You’ll live,” you whisper, licking into his mouth again. “Besides… I like seeing you like this. So desperate for me.”

He groans.

And you know right then, without a doubt, this little nerd is already obsessed with you. Completely and utterly whipped.

author's note: HELL YEAH I LOVE NERDIFYING ANIME MEN!!!! fantastic give me 14 more of them bzzzzz

seriously when i saw this fanart the first thing i did was open up google docs and get my ass to WORK i feel like by now its really obvious i have a thing for nerds :3

hope u guys #enjoyed i have a really bad tongue piercing fixation, not sure if it was obvious... (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ )

[moviecritc]

you and your boyfriend playing who can seduce nerd!armin arlert first ╱ mdni. lots of sex. reader and jean are freaked out and whipped, armin's a perv but doesn't want to admit it. wc: 2.5k ˚.✦

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Bonus

"Haah, s'good baby so so mmph!" Your back arches off the bed, Jean's free arm pinning you back to the mattress in one slip motion.

You can feel the smile on his face as he goes back at your clit, sucking in lightly, circling his tongue around it without enough pressure. You tangle your hands in his hair, trying to push him deeper into you but the motherfucker is strong enough to just moves exactly how he wants to.

"Jeaaaan," you moan, dipping your head back with a groan.

He's been lapping at your folds for fifteen minutes already, you're sweaty and a little drunk from the few drinks you shared downstairs. Your boyfriend is lost in the way you taste and in the way you flutter.

Jean hums against you in response, the low vibration shooting straight through your core and making your thighs twitch around his head. He doesn’t give you what you’re begging for. Instead he flattens his tongue and drags it slowwwly from your entrance back up to your clit, collecting every bit of you like he’s savoring something rare.

“Goddamn, listen to you,” he murmurs. “Sound so fuckin’ pretty when you’re this needy, baby. You know that?”

You try to answer but it comes out as a broken little whimper. Your fingers twist tighter in his hair just holding on for dear life. He lets you tug this time, but only enough to tilt his head the exact angle he wants before he seals his mouth over your clit again.

This time he sucks harder.

Your hips jerk up involuntarily and he groans like you just handed him heaven on a plate. The arm he has banded across your lower stomach flexes, keeping you pinned exactly where he wants you while his free hand slides up the inside of your thigh, fingertips brushing the sensitive skin there before two of them nudge at your entrance.

“Relax for me, pretty girl,” he coaxes, voice muffled and filthy against your cunt. “Wanna feel how tight you get when you’re this close.”

You’re already fluttering around nothing, so when he finally pushes both fingers in, curling them just right, you nearly sob. He crooks them against that spot inside you at the same time his tongue flicks fast little circles over your clit and the combination rips a loud, wrecked sound out of your throat.

“Thaaat’s it,” he praises. “There she is. My good fuckin’ girl. Gonna come all over my face, yeah? Wanna feel you soak me.”

The rhythm turns filthy—sucking, licking, curling, thrusting—relentless but never rushed, like he could happily stay between your legs until the sun comes up. Every time your hips try to chase more he simply presses you back down reminding you who’s in control.

“Jean, please fuck fuck fuck, I’m—” Your words fracture into gasps. Heat coils so tight in your belly you can barely breathe. Your legs shake, toes curling against the sheets.

He knows. Of course he knows.

He pulls back just enough to speak against your dripping folds, breath hot and voice gravel-rough. “Go on, baby. Come on my tongue like you’ve been dying to all night.”

Then he dives back in. Sucking your clit into his mouth hard, fingers pumping faster, curling deeper.

Your back bows off the mattress again, a broken cry tearing out of you as you come hard, pulsing around his fingers, gushing against his tongue. Jean doesn’t stop. He works you through every shuddering wave, licking slower now, softer, drinking down every last bit of you like he’s starved for it.

When you finally collapse, trembling and gasping, he eases his fingers out gently and presses one last open-mouthed kiss to your oversensitive clit that makes you twitch and whine.

He crawls up your body slow, kissing every inch of skin he passes. Your stomach, the underside of your breast, the hollow of your throat. Until he’s hovering over you, forearms braced on either side of your head.

His mouth is glossy, chin wet, hair a complete mess from your hands. He looks wrecked in the best way.

And he’s smiling like he just won something.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, brushing sweat-damp hair off your forehead before leaning down to kiss you deep and lazy, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. “So fuckin’ perfect when you come for me.”

"Mmhm," is all you manage to say, closing your eyes from exhaustion.

Jean squints his eyes, noticing something on you right away. "You're quiet today."

"Am I?" You open your eyes, looking at him right in his.

He lets himself rest beside you, head on his palm while the other plays with your nipples. He's always loved feeling them harden in his fingers, kneading your breasts as you're speaking about the most mundane things.

"Yup. You're usually waaay louder." He shrugs his shoulders, taking one of your curls and curling it tighter between his fingers.

"Well, there's at least 30 people downstairs, I don't want 'em to hear me whine for Jean fucking Kirstein," you shoot back, arching your eyebrows with a teasing smile.

He rolls his eyes, not falling for the bait and leaning closer to you. "You're thinking about something, I know it. Jus' tell me what it is."

Jean nuzzles deeper into the crook of your neck, lips brushing the sensitive spot just below your ear.

“You’re doing that thing again,” he mumbles against your skin. “The one where your brain goes somewhere else and you forget I’m right here.”

You huff a small laugh, threading lazy fingers through his damp hair. “I’m literally naked under you, Jean. How could I forget?”

“Doesn’t mean your head’s here.” He pulls back just enough to look at you. Hazel eyes narrowed, searching. The playful edge is still there, but there’s something sharper underneath it now. “Spit it out, baby. You’ve been weird since we came up here.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, debating. The post-orgasm haze usually makes you loose-lipped and honest, but this feels… different. Riskier.

He waits. Patient. Thumb still idly circling your nipple like he’s got all night.

You exhale through your nose. “Okay. Fine. But don’t freak out.”

His brows lift. “Now I’m definitely freaking out.”

You roll onto your side to face him properly, sheets tangling around your hips. “It’s stupid. Probably nothing.”

“Try me.”

Another beat of silence.

“…I’ve been thinking about Armin.”

Jean goes very still. Not angry-still. Just… processing-still. The hand on your breast pauses mid-motion.

“Armin,” he repeats slowly, like he’s tasting the name. “Arlert. The blond one with the glasses who volunteers at the library?”

You nod, small. “Yeah.”

Jean’s jaw flexes once. He sits up a little, leaning on one elbow so he’s looming just enough to make the air feel heavier. “And you’re thinking about him… while I’ve got my tongue buried in your pussy for the last twenty minutes?”

The bluntness makes heat crawl back up your neck. You don’t look away, though. “Not the whole time. Just… lately. In general.”

He lets out a short laugh that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Jesus. Okay. Wow.”

“You asked.”

“I did.” He drags a hand down his face, then back through his hair, making it stick up worse. “So what? You want him? Like… want want him?”

“No. Yes? I don’t know.” You sit up too, pulling the sheet over your chest like it’ll protect you from how exposed you suddenly feel. “It’s not like I’m gonna go jump him tomorrow. It’s just… I’ve noticed things.”

Jean’s stare is steady. “What things.”

You swallow. “The way you look at him sometimes.”

That hits. His expression flickers.

“Excuse me?”

“Come on, Jean.” Your voice softens. “In class. When he’s explaining something and the whole room shuts up to listen? You watch him like… like you’re trying to figure out how someone can be that smart and that pretty at the same time.”

“I do not.”

“You do.” You reach out, brush your fingertips along his jaw. “And it’s hot. The way your eyes get all dark and focused. Like you wanna pin him to the nearest wall and see if he blushes as pretty as he talks.”

Jean’s throat bobs. He doesn’t deny it.

After a long second he mutters, “Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

He flops onto his back, staring at the ceiling. One arm thrown over his eyes. “This is so fucked up.”

“Is it?” You crawl over him, straddling his hips. The sheet falls away. His hands automatically settle on your thighs (habit, muscle memory) but he doesn’t move otherwise. “Or is it just… honest?”

He peeks at you from under his forearm. “You’re really sitting here, fresh off coming on my face, telling me you’ve got a crush on the nerd boy I’ve also been lowkey eye-fucking in lecture hall?”

You shrug one shoulder. “Maybe we both do.”

Silence stretches.

Jean’s hands flex on your thighs. Not pushing you off. Not pulling you closer. Just… holding.

“You’re serious,” he says finally. Quiet.

“I think so. Yeah.”

He exhales hard through his nose. “He’s so fucking quiet. And polite. And he smells like new books and vanilla or some shit. It’s infuriating.”

You smile despite yourself. “You’ve noticed how he smells?”

“Shut up.” But there’s no heat in it. His thumbs start slow circles on your skin. “He’s got those stupid long lashes. And when he pushes his glasses up? I wanna bite something.”

You laugh. “Jean Kirstein admitting he’s got a thing for the soft boy in the front row. Never thought I’d see the day.”

He glares, but it’s half-hearted. “Don’t get cute. You started this.”

“I did.” You lean down, forearms braced on his chest, faces close. "But it's not like we can do something about it."

Jean let your phrase sit for a couple of seconds. "How do we even approach someone like that?"

"He probably thinks it's a bet or some fucked up shit like that," you add, biting your lips.

"He might not even like boys," Jean says.

You arch your eyebrows immediately, blinking fast.

"He might not even like girls," Jean fixes, shrugging his shoulders.

He lets out a frustrated groan, tipping his head back against the pillow.

You trace lazy patterns across his chest with one fingertip, feeling the steady thump of his heart under your palm. “We could just… not do anything. Keep it as fantasy. Make love to the mental image and call it a day.”

He snorts. “Yeah, because that’s worked so well for the last month. You’ve been zoning out mid-makeout thinking about him, and I—” He cuts himself off. “I caught myself staring at his fucking hands in seminar last week. Hands. Who gets hard over someone’s knuckles and a fountain pen?”

You bite back a grin. “You do, apparently.”

“Fuck off.” But he’s fighting a smile too. His hands slide up your thighs to your hips, squeezing once like he’s grounding himself. “Seriously though. If we’re gonna do this, we gotta be smart. He’s not the type you just corner at a party and proposition. He’ll bolt like a startled deer.”

“True.” You sit up straighter, straddling him properly now, the sheet pooled around your waist. The cool air makes your skin pebble, nipples tightening again under his absent gaze. “So maybe we don’t do it together. At least not at first.”

Jean’s brows knit. “What, like… take turns?”

“Exactly.” The idea sparks behind your eyes, wicked and fun and just competitive enough to make your pulse kick up again. “We approach him separately. Feel him out. See if he bites. No pressure, no tag-team bullshit that’ll scare him off. Just… normal conversation. Flirt a little. See who gets further.”

Jean’s mouth twitches. “You’re turning this into a game.”

“I mean…” You lean down until your noses brush, lips hovering over his. “Aren’t you competitive?”

His pupils blow wide. “You’re evil.”

“Say the word and we drop it.”

He’s quiet for a beat. Then his hands clamp down on your hips, dragging you forward so you’re seated right over the thick ridge of him.

“Rules,” he rasps.

You grin against his mouth. “I’m listening.”

“No lying to each other. Full disclosure after every interaction. What you said, what he said, how he looked at you, if he blushed, if he got flustered, if he touched you even by accident.”

“Done.”

“No sabotaging. If he picks one of us, the other backs off gracefully. No guilt-tripping.”

You nod. “Fair.”

“And” His voice drops, rougher now. “If he’s into both… we talk about bringing him in together with no rush.”

Heat pools low in your belly again. “God, yes.”

Jean’s thumb brushes the crease of your thigh, teasingly close to where you’re still slick and sensitive. “One more. Winner gets to call the shots the first time we’re all three together. If it gets that far.”

Your breath hitches. “You’re so on.”

He smirks, slow and dangerous. “Oh, baby. You have no idea how bad I want to watch that pretty boy fall apart under you while I tell him exactly how to touch you.”

You rock down against him once, just to hear him curse under his breath.

“So,” you whisper, lips grazing the shell of his ear. “Who goes first?”

Jean thinks for a second, eyes flicking over your face like he’s calculating odds. Then he shrugs one lazy shoulder.

“You go tomorrow. He’s always at the library after third period, right? Buried in some ancient philosophy text or whatever.”

You nod. “Yeah.In the same spot as well, thinks no one notices him.”

“Cute.” Jean’s hand slides up your spine, fingers threading into your hair so he can tug your head back gently and kiss the column of your throat. “Wear that skirt you know he stares at when he thinks you’re not looking. Bend over to pick up a book or something. Give him something to think about tonight when he’s jerking off in his dorm.”

You laugh, breathless. “You’re awful.”

“I’m strategic.” He nips your pulse point. “I share a class with him on Wednesday, I’ll sit next to him. Ask him to explain some bullshit concept I already know. Maybe brush our knees under the table. See if he startles or leans in.”

The mental image makes you clench around nothing. “You’re gonna make him stutter, aren’t you?”

“Fuck yeah I am.” Jean’s grin is feral now. “And every time he pushes those glasses up? I’m gonna picture them fogged up later.”

You moan softly, grinding down again. “This is gonna be torture.”

“Good torture.” He flips you onto your back in one smooth motion, pinning your wrists above your head. His mouth finds yours, tasting like victory already. When he pulls back, his voice is wrecked. “You better tell me everything tomorrow night. Every single detail. How red his ears got. If he adjusted his pants. If he looked at your mouth when you talked.”

“Promise.” You hook a leg around his waist, pulling him closer. “And you better do the same.”

Jean rocks against you slow, deliberate. “Deal.”

He kisses you again, harder this time, all teeth and tongue and barely restrained hunger.

“Get some sleep, baby,” he murmurs against your lips. “You’ve got a nerd to seduce in the morning.”

You smile into the dark, heart racing.

“And you’ve got one hell of a competition on your hands, Kirstein.”

He chuckles low in his throat, already sliding down your body again, mouth trailing fire.

“Bring it.”

a/n: idk when this came to life but i love this kind of trope in fanfics

[polkayeti]

nerd armin hc's! art by musapylsa on tt/twt

cw for implied public sex, lots of biting, + tongue piercing, somnophilia NONCON(nsfw)

-

the type of guy to wait when your classes are over. he would loiter in the hallways , the jocks and popular kids brushing past him as he fixes his glasses, holding science books to his chest as he fiddled with his phone - checking your schedule.

he's a creeper, a stalker. as far as you were concerned, you always saw him hangout with his two friends, eren, mikasa and some other folks, jean..sasha?...connor? wait no, connie!

you would sometimes catch him staring way too long, eyes always on you and when you finally notice, he would blink and fix his glasses, a knuckle raising to arrange it on his face.

he would "accidentally" drop something on the ground if he was ever randomly beside you, and he knows how nice of a person you are, so you pick up whatever he dropped and he just smiles inwardly, checking you out from the back with zero to no shame.

the type to literally take pictures of you secretly and masturbate the fuck out of them the moment he's home.

"o...ohh...ahnn.." his hand fists his cock aggressively, throwing his head back as he whimpers, thighs shaking as he finally comes down, cum dribbling down his fingers.

-

another thing about him is he owns porn magazines, he stashes them away under his bed and fantasizes all the girls on the pages are you.

he would full on hump the covers, his pillow just to imagine some type of body underneath his, squeezing and moaning like a dog in heat, his brain can only think of one thing and that's you.

other times when he's not ejaculating, he talks about you to his other online friends when he games.

"they're so...h-hot..like.." he says in the microphone, grinning ear to ear as he talks about you in excruciating detail.

the guys on the other side would either cheer him on or snicker at his desperation, "woah..dude, did you like, jack off to them or something??" typical. they wouldn't get it.

"s-something like that." armin bites his lip, finishing the game and logging off.

obsessive crush behavior

this man is always on his phone/laptop so for sure he's got some online stalking habits you're not aware of at all.

he analyzes all of your old posts, every story and event you've been to, and even have them memorized in case you ever talked to him.

+ he's probably the type to over intercept basic kindness as 'romantic interest', "they smiled at me! they must want me!"

-

random stuff he does

• compliments you in an awkward, creepy sort of way, "hey....y-your collarbones are pretty.." then he'd mentally face palm thinking about how miserably bad he is at flirting.

• stares at you wayyy too long for any normal person, a hand on his chin as his eyes hyper-analyze your movements, then panics when he gets caught.

• brings up painfully niche hyperfixations and info dump people about it, (comics, anime, gaming) and they would have NO clue what he would be talking about LMFAOO

• does that nervous push glasses thing, how? uses his middle finger to nudge the bridge of his glasses up. he's particularly nervous when you finally speak to him or is around him suddenly.

if you're in a relationship

he's actually ecstatic, finally having you all to himself, that means he could do whatever he wanted right?

he's willing to share and do everything with you, from sharing his clothes, to showering, sleeping in the same bed. all of it.

the type to just touch you all over. hugs and cuddles you, kisses your neck and bites the same spot he touched with his mouth.

only for you to have tons of red bruises littering your skin the next day.

• doesn't let you go until you really beg him to let you go.

"i won't even be that long... seriously." you say, waiting for a response , only for your boyfriend to glare at you albeit a little pouty.

"...f...fuck. you can't just leave me here, i want your attention too."

he nervously plays with the ends of his sleeves, drawing the cloth over his knuckles and fiddling with it.

sometimes you couldn't help but feel bad, even though there was nothing to feel bad about.

"...fine. i'll stay.. okay?" you nod defeated, reaching out for him to hug his head to your tummy.

he immediately reciprocates, pressing his face into your torso and inhaling deep.

-

sometimes in public, he would drag you to a small spot where he swears no one goes to, and just grinds his body over yours, just to get some friction.

making out with you is his favorite activity, besides fucking the shit outta you at home.

he grinds and grabs your everything, hands all over your ass, squeezing as he bites the inner corner of your neck, sucking the skin until he's satisfied with the new colour.

you feel the cool metal of his piercing lave over your hot skin and you whine for him to stick it in you already.

• WOULD make you suck him off under the seat of his desktop space WHILE gaming.

he's so nasty he doesn't even hide it, "hey?! can i get an assist? cmon!" someone online yells into the microphone , he's pretty skilled with using the keyboard with only one hand, so he easily guides your head with his fingers rooted into your scalp and helps bob your mouth just right until he feels his cock twitch, eventually cumming inside and you have to swallow it.

he tries so hard to hide his little huffs of satisfaction, wryly grinning as he sees your cum painted face under the seat.

-

has this 'habit' he's never told you about.

whenever you would sleep before him in your shared bed , he would climb over you and just go to town. removing each layer of your clothes, and leaves you vulnerable in your underwear, spreads your legs open and makes you cum in your sleep.

you involuntary shiver when you feel his tongue lave over your hole, his fingers playing over where you're most sensitive and coat his tongue in your juices.

'how are you not waking up?' a few sleeping pills dumped into your drink earlier must've did the trick. he wouldn't tell you though, or you'll probably, seriously hate him.

and that was the last thing he wanted. besides..he's got you all to himself now!

-

+ note this fanart literally revived the aot fandom idc i had to write something. link to the art! link 2

[mojifushiguro]

pony boy ! a.arlert

you've only been with your sweet boy armin for a couple weeks, but he's already so dependent when it comes to you... shy!nerdmin x reader

warnings: smut, virgin armin, spitting+saliva, oral sex, p in v sex, college!au, begging, masturbation, mild dacryphilia, very mild somnophilia, breast play, and so forth and so on.

mdni.

armin was the sweetest, most innocent ever.

he kept his grades up, and honestly, he was labeled weird to everyone. not that he cared. you were more known than him, and it wouldn't be wrong to say you were quite popular.

so when you told everyone about your relationship, which he almost begged you not to do, everyone was shocked.

now lets go back to the first sentence. armin was the sweetest, most innocent ever.

keyword, was...

before you came along.

all the skirts and short shorts you wore, all the crop tops or the way you were instantly comfortable with only being in a bra in front of him, despite seeing the way he put his pillow on his lap to hide the bulge in his pants.

aw, he was so sweet when you asked him to help you zip up the back of a dress you wore, and when you went out to go to one of the college parties with your friends, he stared at a picture of you on his phone as he got his rocks off in his room while his door was locked, waiting for you to come back to his house.

him telling all his nerdy little friends about how you're the best girlfriend ever, and even telling his mom about you.

"she's really nice. the best girlfriend ever."

what a mamas boy.

and yes, you were nice. the way you helped him with his hair every morning before you both went off to campus.

when you walked with him, you leading the way down the sidewalk, he just couldn't help but look at your hips... and your ass. the way it moved so nicely in any bottoms you wore.

when you helped him pick his pencil up in the hallway, the color of your purple panties flashing him from the barely dress-code-safe skirt, making him quickly look away with a red flushed face and making sure no one saw.

ugh, he gets boners every day. he's so weird. he has to go to the bathroom all the time, hiding his pants with his backpack just to go let out a nice one in some tissue and flush it down the toilet.

and it was so easy.

because he cum's quick.

despite everything he did, or fantasized about, or wrote in his diary about, you never did anything with armin.

until the night his parents left, and he had the whole house to himself for two days. but little did he know, two days was all you needed.

he stayed up later than you, and as he typed on his computer, trying to complete assignments early, he couldn't help but glance over at the way his sheets hugged your curves.

his eyes moved from your body, to his computer, his typing slowing down as they trailed back over to you.

focus, was all he was telling himself. but you were the most beautiful girl ever in his eyes. he couldn't focus on anything other than you. him and all his little chat friends knew that.

to make matters worse, armin was such a virgin. your typical virgin who knew nothing about women but that they had pussies and were almost scary to talk to.

he closed his laptop, sitting it on his nightstand and pulling the sheets off of his legs. why do these things always happen? he had another boner. he tried to tell himself he needed to stop jerking off to you so much, but gosh, you looked so damn good.

maybe if he just... palmed himself to calm himself down?

he reached down, putting one hand in his sweats and softly rubbing at himself. he let out a small whimper, closing his eyes and biting his lip.

no jerking off. only palming.

but he couldn't help but lightly squeeze at his dick, softly moaning at the sounds of your breaths, imagining them closer to his ear.

he had to control himself.

he took his hand out of his pants and sighed, scooting closer to you, and wrapping his arms around your waist, nuzzling his nose in your neck.

"y/n...?" he whispered, careful but to startle you. "y/n, I miss you." he whispered again.

you hummed, slowly blinking your eyes before reaching back and rubbing through the back of his head. fuck, you only made his boner worse.

armin closed his eyes and rubbed his nose in your neck, getting aroused just by the way you smelled.

you already knew what was happening. how? because every time armin gets horny, he touches your waist. any other time, he's too afraid to do anything.

"you miss me?" you mumbled, tilting your head away to make room for him. he slowly nodded. "yeah..." his warm, heavy breaths against you turned you on just like him.

you licked your lips as armin moved closer. that's when you felt him against your ass. "you're horny? that's why you miss me?" you sat up and pulled the sheets back. and behold, a damp spot on his sweats.

as his face got red, he slowly nodded, looking at his pants. he was so embarrassed with himself, but he knew you were the only one that would make his disgusting fantasies come true. you were the only one that would fulfill his needs, and that's all he wanted.

you smiled, pushing him onto his back and sitting on top of him. "you're such a cutie, 'min." you smiled, leaning down to kiss him.

poor baby could barely kiss you back, he was too focused on the fact that you only wore panties, and the fact that you were on top of him, and the fact that when you leaned forward, you slightly grinded against his bulge.

"ah.." he moaned softly, looking down. you felt him throbbing against you, begging for you with his body.

"ill help you..." you moved your hips once against him, making him close his eyes and whine a little. "but you cant cum quick. got it?"

oh god.

he tried his best, he really did.

but when you told him to sit up, just so you could put your ass in the air, and that perfect arch in your back to suck him off, he was on the brink of a climax.

the way you sucked his pretty pink tip so softly, and your saliva mixing with his precum.

the way you spit on it, and it dripped down to his base. he didn't know you could go that far down.

your warm mouth and hands wrapping around him so nicely, he couldn't help but beg.

"m-more... please..." he whimpered and stammered, his knees buckling and him gripping the sheets, being too afraid of grabbing your pretty hair.

"more?"

what a foolish request for armin to make.

"oh... my... gosh...!" armin moaned out, gripping your hips as you bounced on his aching dick.

ugh he was so embarrassed, because his eyes were watering. so much to the point that tears of pleasure were rolling down his cheeks.

the sound of skin connecting and your wetness mixing, the way his dick was bigger than you'd ever expect it to be, it drove both of you crazy.

"ugh, fuck, 'min!" you threw your head back as you kept your hands on his knees to keep your balance. the way your breasts bounced so perfectly in front of him, he couldn't help his self. he just wanted to look at them. and... play with them.

he raised your shirt, eyes threatening to close as he licked his salty lips at how soft they were, his warm hands brushing over your nipples, fuck, it all felt so good.

he loved that the more he pinched and rolled your nipple between his fingers, the more your pussy throbbed around him, and the wetter you got.

the more you moaned his name, and the more he wanted to cum.

"'m...'m gonna... you gotta get up..." he whined, grabbing your hips, but you didn't budge. you actually started bouncing faster and harder. "s-shit!" the sweat dripped down his forehead, and he slowly shook his head.

"you can cum in me, 'minnie..."

that was all you had to say before he whined and moaned and shook, digging his nails into your hips and bucking his more and more as you rode him through his limit.

poor armin, his dick was so sore, and it throbbed even after he came.

his only punishment for not making you cum with him was his face between your thighs, and his glasses on the nightstand.

he hummed into your pussy as your thighs nearly suffocated him, and his face was cutely squished between them. his lips and chin were so wet, and his eyebrows furrowed as he softly sucked and licked your clit.

he loved the way you nearly dominated him, and when you arched your back, constantly repeating his name mixed with curse words.

when your slick mixed with his saliva as he flicked his tongue over your clit multiple times, oh it was to die for.

he was getting off again, rubbing his hips slowly and subtly against the sheets.

he even put his tongue inside of you, bobbing his head back and forth. and when you started to throb against his tongue, he closed his eyes as you shook, and your thighs tightened around his messy head, finishing right inside his mouth.

dripping on his chin and around his lips.

"armin..." you bit your lip as he raised his head and crawled over you.

you kissed him, your own wetness mixing between you and his tongue. as you wrapped your legs around him, you felt the sticky substance on his pants between your legs.

armins hands slowly moved back towards your shirt, and under it, softly gripping at your waist.

he looked at you with his soft, glossy, blue eyes.

"can we do it again...? please?"

y'all like this? hadda join in on the trend. ;)