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.
Nerd!armin arlert loves it when you're mean to him!
Eren always asks Armin if he's okay whenever the dark, painful-looking hickeys on his catch his attention. But Armin always tells Eren that he's fine, that you're an amazing girlfriend who just goes a little too hard sometimes.
Armin is exactly where he wants to be, anyways.
Each time you call Armin a "sick freak" and spit in his mouth for wanting to be tossed around, all while peppering kisses over his cheeks and neck, the tightness in his pants grows.
"You can do better than that, Armin." Grabbing his blonde roots, you tug hard, forcing his face away from your pussy. Armin whines, gritting his teeth from the pain.
"You can do better, right?" Without warning, you land a slap to his cheek, skin stinging despite the reach.
Armin nods, whimpering softly after your slap. He returns to your sopping cunt, slowly poking his tongue out.
"God, Armin!" You yell, practically smashing his face into your pussy, annoyed with how slow he was moving. "It's like you do this on purpose!"
Trying to ignore the harsh pulls on his scalp, Armin devours your cunt, tongue flicking around as good as always. Every few minutes, though, he would let up, slowing his movements down on purpose just to get a rise out of you, just to hear you cuss and yell and threaten to slap him again.
He was doing it on purpose, because nothing turned him on more than being treated like your plaything.
A/N: I planned for this to be so much better, but between awful lower back pain and concerningly sweaty hands I wrapped this up quick. I think I'll just write a second part lmao
𖦹 armin arlert, your boyfriend, loves going to the beach with you.
beachy!armin who plans trips to the beach every other weekend as a chance to get away. he always invites the most important person in his life, you.
beachy!armin who overpacks every time without fail. who knows if you'll need a winter jacket at the beach? he's researched beach blizzards before and he knows the risk. he can never exercise too much caution, especially when it comes to you.
beachy!armin who lets you pick the music and all of the stops for food & snacks while driving. you're the passenger princess to the max he is not going to let you get bored in the car.
beachy!armin who dies seeing you in your bathing suit even if it's the most basic thing ever and you wear it every time. god help him if you wear something even slightly revealing.
beachy!armin who cooked and baked you the perfect lunch for the beach picnic he plans every time. it's filled with your favorite foods, desserts, and
beachy!armin who collects shells and sea glass to make you jewelry or decorate something for you. it's different every time. a couple of weeks ago he made a shell frame for a picture of the two of you, the week after, a beautiful set of shell earrings and a necklace, and this week it's a wedding ring.
beachy!armin who makes sure that every trip is diverse, often going to different beaches and visiting local restaurants and shops. it's never just the beach with him, he loves everything about the coast too.
beachy!armin who loves to watch you fall asleep in the car on the way back to your house. you always look so peaceful and calm, he finds you so beautiful.
beachy!armin who treats your potential sunburns with the upmost love and care. even if you get the tiniest amount of sun sickness, he's going to mend you to health like you've got a 104° fever. and if you got really hurt, jellyfish sting, stepped on a shell, etc, he won't let you move a muscle.
this fits so well with him! week two, day two of my sunkissed memories event, hope you enjoy <3
Warnings: submissive/inexperience Armin, more experienced reader, sucking on breast, suggestive language, no explicit penetrative sex, reader is kinda mean
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¡Loser Armin! who was basically outcasted all throughout high school. He managed to gain a close knit of two or three friends, but that's about all he has.
When he got to college he really thought maybe it'd be different: new city, new people, new him. However, apparently switching scenery won't change who he is so he's still outcasted and fit into the 'nerd' stereotype.
So what if he likes layered graphic shirts he found at a local thrift shop? What does it matter if he wears the shirt Eren, one of his few friends, gifted him with symbols of elements on the periodic table that spelled something corny? Clothes are clothes so of course he'll wear whatever.
Maybe he also had stereotypical rectangular glasses matched with a haircut that hadn't changed since his youth.
Maybe he has an obsession with collecting figures and would study in the library for ungodly amounts of time, but there's nothing wrong with that. He cares about his grades and he has special interests— shouldn't everyone?
He wasn't a complete recluse and would sometimes attend his friend's frat parties; then again, he often stayed awkwardly in the corner with a red solo cup. It was his effort to connect with others that mattered, and he put in a lot of effort.
Still, most people just saw him as a kinda weird guy who was still pretty sweet. Some whispered about him being a pervert with maid girl figures lining the bookshelves in his room, but others would defend him and say he did give them a pencil one time.
¡Loser Armin! who was always first at his biology lab and never skipped a day of class. Well never skipped besides the one day Eren had him play beer pong and poor Armin just couldn't keep up. He woke up with a horrific hangover because his body wasn't use to alcohol nor did he even like beer much. Though he just emailed his teacher despite his headache and lied about having a random migraine— his teacher believing it an instantly pouring out heartfelt wishes for his recovery. Armin felt like an ass and was ashamed the next day the woman came up to him and talked all about her migraines and offered him a doctor to speak with about medication.
Nevertheless, Armin was usually front and center in his classes.
So when a pretty girl he's never seen before comes into his class and sits right beside him, he's awe struck. He could smell your fragrant perfume and shampoo as you sat down and he tried to subtly watch the way your hair fell over your shoulder.
Though when you glance over at him and see he's already staring at you, he quickly looks away as his cheeks heat up in mortification. The next twenty minutes he spends desperately trying to not look your way, as to not weird you out.
Eventually the professor decides to have the class 'turn and talk,' like it's still high school. Armin hated when professors did this mostly because the person next to him would awkwardly avoid eye contact or just all together ignore him. However, you already turned towards him and began to talk about the question the teacher wrote on the chalk board.
After the two of you discussed something about abiogenesis, he decided to try and have a casual conversation.
"So are you new?" he asked since he hasn't noticed you before.
"No. I've been here the whole semester."
"Oh," Armin paused as all social skills he has required fly out the window. How the hell hasn't he noticed you? Nevermind that, what does he say to make this less embarrassing?
Meanwhile your eyes stay just trained on the man as his face and neck turned a light shade of pink. You didn't bother saving him from embarrassment by adding you maybe attended class 40% of the time, and when you did you just sat in the back row.
He was somewhat cute as he nervously began fidgeting with the hem of his shirt that had oxygen and magnesium symbols on it: spelling out 'OMg.'
Finally the professor began to talk and Armin took that opportunity to snap his head to the front of the room and try to forget what happened.
¡Loser Armin! who, like many introverted shy people, hated group projects. He always seemed to be stuck doing the brunt of the work as his partner just slapped on their name at the end and got the same grade.
That's not to say he'd particularly like someone trying to do the work— he's quite specific and controlling when it comes to projects. Although he does get upset to see his group members boasting about the perfect score they received, he's slowly learned to just tune it out.
Again, after leaving high school he assumed the whole 'group project' thing would die out. However like his other hopeful wishes, they did not come to fruition as he's stuck partnering with people often now.
It was even worse that even though people called him nerdy and picked fun at how serious he was about things, they wouldn't choose to be his partner. So whenever the professor asked everyone to find one, he was left sitting anxiously and just waiting for the professor to ignore him or assign him to someone.
It wasn't until one day you walked in way too late and the professor told you to find someone to partner with. Glancing around the room, you saw a variety of people.
There were the stereotypical frat boys you knew wouldn't get the project done, even if they did it would suck, and likely just be focused on hitting on you.
There were your sorority sisters who could be nice, but at the same time you wouldn't say they were the sharpest tools in the shed. Besides, it looked like they were already partnered up.
There were some people you hadn't seen before, or the only time you had seen them was when they were smoking way too much weed at a frat party.
Eventually your eyes land on the blonde headed man in the front row whom you sat beside not long ago when your original seat was taken. He seemed to be just staring at his lap and praying for this to be over, so you walked over and plopped down next to him.
"Do you still need a partner?"
His widened eyes looked over to you once he smelled the familiar perfume once again: "Yes, I do," he mumbled back while sitting up a bit straighter.
"Great," you reply as you glance at the chalk board to see what it was you even needed a partner for. Finally you look back to him, but see he's been staring at you since you looked away. Unintentionally, you must've given him a weird look because his eyes shifted away and you could've sworn you heard him mumble 'I'm sorry.'
¡Loser Armin! who is naturally more nervous when it comes to talking to women. Literally any woman and he's fumbling over words more than usual and glancing away.
"Dude you've gotta get over that shit," his friend Eren says while he's reclined on the sofa in the frat house. Armin usually didn't like going over there because, well, it's filthy. He just sat on the edge of some cushioned chair that he didn't even want to think about what could've happened on it.
"Yeah," comes from Jean who sits on the other side of the couch, "It kinda kills the vibe sometimes. How are we supposed to hang out with you when you start tripping if we bring a chick?"
Armin readjusts his glasses while contemplating what to even say. Was it that noticeable? He knew he got a bit more self conscious when a girl was around, but he always had a stutter for the most part.
"But I think I act normal?" well, he doesn't have to mention 'normal' means normal for him.
"Well you don't," Jean quipped.
"Look, man to man, I'm trying to help you. You're never going to pick up women if you keep being a stereotypical geek," the dark brown haired man reasons.
However, Armin pushes this conversation to the back of his mind for the most part. It's not like women glance his way anyways, so what does it matter? It's not like he was a weirdo who purposefully gawked, so as long as he didn't make them uncomfortable then whatever.
Though as he sat in your dorm, in your sorority house, and heard you talk about the project he couldn't feel more stupid. He should've listened to his friends and figured out how to not turn into a mess anytime a girls attention was on him; now, he's practically immobile.
"I was thinking maybe the second point could be about the evolution and maybe environmental modification? I mean I can't think of what else to do," you talked, though it sounded like white noise to Armin.
Was that a natural tint to your lips, or did you have lipgloss on?
Did all girls rooms smell this good? Was it the candle in the corner or just your perfume?
Was this his first time even in a girls room? Can he count the time he walked into his friend's older sister's room?
"Armin?" his name falling from your lips snap him out of it.
"O-oh yeah, good idea. I'd rather do a powerpoint than docs," he stutters out as his eyes fix on you.
You stare at him and look at his blue eyes that darted around your room, his rigid posture, and pink hue to his cheeks. Slowly, your lips pull back into a smile: "That's not what I was talking about just now? Are you nervous or something, Armin?"
His eyes darted to his lap as he fidgeted with his hands, "What? No—"
"Am I making you nervous?"
The two of you sit on your bed with your backs pressed against the wall and his feet dangle off the side of it. Being shoulder to shoulder with your MacBook resting on your thighs, you could see each other's expression clearly. You watch his adam apple bob as he clears his throat.
"Not at all," he manages to murmur without even looking at you. You just shove your MacBook off your lap and let it lay discarded towards the side of the bed.
"Really? Then why won't you look at me?"
His eyes move back towards yours in an instant, but they quickly fell down to your lips. He stared when you casually licked your lips to wet them before talking more.
"If you're nervous that's fine— I think it's cute."
"Cute?" Armin knew Eren would cackle if he ever knew the blonde man was described as 'cute' from a girl.
"Totally," your body leans into him as you turn a bit to face him more. He could feel when the curve of your tit pressed against his arm; instinctively making him tense and his eyes dart down before returning to your face. You talked a bit quieter, "I'm into cute guys though. Are you into girls like me?"
He feels his breath pick up and his blood rushing to a particular part: "I do think you're pretty."
"Yeah? Have you even been this close to a woman?"
His mind flips to his memories during the summer before university where he played spin the bottle once at Eren's party. It landed on a girl who awkwardly glanced at Armin before leaning over and giving him a quick peck— so quick that Armin didn't even have time to reciprocate.
"..Yeah, I have," he mumbled since it wasn't technically a lie. He did count that experience as his first kiss.
"Have you ever touched one?"
He's consciously aware of the natural rise and fall of your chest while you breathe. He notices how you subtly bite your bottom lip while waiting for a response. He observes how your hands twitch at your side, then begin reaching to his own hands.
"Do you want to?" you ask when he didn't reply.
He feels his throat go dry while you grip his wrist and pull his hand to cup your breast.
"Yes," he finally whispers: immediately prompting you to smile and swing your leg over his hip to straddle him. You wasted no time using your other hand to tangle in his hair and force his head to tilt upwards as your lips crashed against his.
The kiss was messy as he went into sensory overload from your sweet lips meeting his, his hand softly finding the courage to feel your tit, and your hips grinding down into his in short waves. His free hand finds comfort just settling on your waist.
Your tongue ran over the roof of his mouth as you took the initiative. The hand in his hair curls into it more while fingertips scrape against his scalp and causes him to finally let out a little groan.
When you pull away, you see how swollen and pink his lips became after a small makeout session; though it just excites you. You let go of his hand and swiftly take your shirt off so he's now just face to face with your lace bra— you'd specifically worn it in hopes this might happen.
"Take my bra off," you said. You damn well could've slipped it off yourself, but it would be fun to watch him fumble.
"Oh, okay," he breathes out while his eyes darted down to your chest. He tried to keep his eyes on yours when you began to strip, but when you gave him the command he just stared at you.
His shaky hands lifted to behind your back as he ran them up it until they came in contact with your bra. Dumbly, his fingers fiddle with the clasp as it. They tug up, then down, then attempt to just pry it apart which makes you laugh.
"You've seriously never even gotten a girls bra off?" you ask while reaching your hands back and unclasping it yourself. You just throw it to somewhere else in your room. Maybe someone would say it was cruel, but when you saw his red face and him seemingly in a trance, you add: "What? You going to suck on them for me?"
"Can I?" he quickly replies without the hesitation you'd seen earlier. You were just joking because surely a guy like Armin, whom hasn't gotten his rocks off to an actual woman, would want to rush everything.
That wasn't on Armins mind at all though. Well, it is, but not his first concern! No one can really blame a guy if after seeing his first pair of tits, he's just itching to get a taste like all his fantasies promised.
"Hm," you paused and thought. An idea just pops into your head when you picked up on his desperate tone: "Yeah? You wanna do that?"
His eyes travel to yours while both hands, which were planted on your waist, slowly feel up your torso.
"Mhm, yes," he mumbles with a nod— knowing how frantic he probably sounds. He really just couldn't help it! All his logic and reasoning he relied on was thrown out the window the moment he saw how pretty you looked on his lap.
"Ask nicely," you retorted.
"Can I please do it?"
"Do what?" you really plan on making him beg a bit. He knows you could feel the tent in his pants practically jump at your question.
"Can I please suck on your... breast," consciously trying to not be that crude and say tits.
"Kinda pathetic," you comment while feeling how his thumbs slid right under your chest and rubbed smooth circles right below them. Though, your lips slowly tugged into a smile when you felt his dick twitch in his pants under you. "Just do it already," you finally said.
Instantly, his lips are around your nipple as he closes his eyes and suckles on them. Both of his hands cup under both tits to squeeze them gently and then alternate between sucking on either one. His mind goes back to any porn video he's ever seen, not the best examples, but he does try to replicate the tonguing motions. He knew all those late nights would pay off one day.
Meanwhile, you softly gasp when his hot mouth wraps around your hardened nipple. One hand cups his nape to keep him close and the other remains on his shoulder. In comparison to any other person you've let suck on you, he's by far the messiest and most enthusiastic.
"Just like that," you whispered while he experimentally nipped at your skin while it glistens with his spit.
Suddenly, your hand in his hair tightens and rips him off of you before you swiftly kiss him again. You can just feel the small trail of spit dribbling down his chin from how much he'd been salivating on your breast.
When you pulled away, both of you were breathless as he stared into your eyes with a somewhat vulnerable expression. Your hand just left his nape and instead cradled his jaw— phony sweetness.
"You wanna put that tongue to work in other places for me?"
¡Loser Armin! who now gets to 'hang out' with you more often as you two chose to be partners for most assignments. It worked out: he did the work, you slapped your name on the project, and during breaks he'd eat you out wonderfully.
At first he was a bit rusty with trying to find some technique, but you easily guided him. In no time he was suckling on your clit while two fingers relentlessly curled into your g spot that had your back arching.
Armin didn't care that you weren't too interested on returning the favor and sucking him off. He got off enough on just pleasuring you, so it would've been embarrassing for you to pull down his pants and see he already made a mess on himself.
He was happy with the arrangement. For the most part he was, but he couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to be with you outside of just the privacy of your bedroom. He wanted to walk around campus or be able to approach you whenever he saw you around. When you finally suggested you two go to a frat party, he was ecstatic. He didn't even question your change of heart considering last time he asked to meet you at a cafe, you laughed and said you weren't interested in commiting social suicide.
He of course instantly obliged and ran to tell his closest friend who was somewhat aware, minus the whole sexual thing, about him and you.
"You can't be serious," the brown haired man mutters while casting a disapproving look at the blonde. He knew Armin didn't even care for parties, but suddenly he was all for them cause some chick wanted him to be?
"Yeah, she asked me. Isn't that great? Like, she's agreeing to arrive with me."
"How do you know she's not just using you for some sick prank?" Eren knew he was coming off harsh, but he was hesitant of this whole thing. Armin, despite his intelligence, could be a bit naive sometimes. The guy just didn't want one of his best friends getting hurt.
"She wouldn't do something like that," he defends.
"Maybe something else then. Shit, if she's living at that damn sorority house it's a long ass walk. Maybe she just needs your car and then will ditch you."
"Shut up," he snaps, "I'm sure it's not like that."
"Hey man, I'm just thinking."
"Well stop or you'll strain yourself."
¡Loser Armin! who, again, wasn't much up for parties. He drove over to your sorority to pick you up at the time you specified, and tried to push any pessimistic feelings away.
Although once he saw you dolled up with a skirt that just hugged your thighs in the perfect way, he only had one thing on his mind. He tries his best to keep his eyes on the road, but every time you shifted and your legs rubbed together he got side tracked.
"Armin?" he hears and his eyes snap back up to the lights at the intersection.
"Yes?" he mumbles back while praying you just thought the red light is what made his face look pink.
"Did you hear me?" though as you looked at his face, you knew he hadn't been focusing on the conversation. You sighed, rolling your eyes before continuing: "I told you I'll talk to a few friends once we get there. You can just find some people you know— aren't you friends with someone who will be there?"
Eren's words pop back into his mind: 'ditch you.' No, certainly you're not that low. He nods as the light turns green and he begins to move again: "I'm alright with that. I know some guys," the man hopes Eren wouldn't be too busy to not talk to him until you're done.
¡Loser Armin! who should've expected things would end out like this.
Upon you two walking in, you split off without a word and headed towards a group of people. Armin, standing in the doorway while surveying the crowd, was just left to pretend he didn't know you and keep walking. His immediate to do list was finding Eren; an easy task since he hears the man's boisterous laugh as he filled up another solo cup with, in Armin's opinion, nauseating beer.
The next thirty minutes was just Armin trying to navigate through the sea of people and attempt to not bump into anyone; a difficult task when considering the amount of limbs flopping around on the dance door.
He couldn't reach Eren and he decided he didn't even want to after watching the man start dancing with some girl and then watched another one attempt to do a body shot— instead just wasting half a bottle of tequila.
You were absolutely no where in sight.
The blue eyed man finally decides enough is enough and starts trying to walk back towards the door. He kept his eyes browsing the crowd so if he saw you he'd just tell you he was leaving now, so you'd need a new ride. Although half way through his voyage to the door, he just decided he'd send you a text and not bother confronting you.
Armin already felt out of place and by some of the glances he got, he knew others felt the same. It wasn't until he brushed against a man's arm that he finally had his first interaction of the night.
"Watch it bitch," snapped the taller man as he turned to look at the culprit who spilled his cup of beer on him. Armin didn't register the man was talking to him at first, since he literally barely touched the guy. It wasn't until the meathead grabbed Armins shoulder and pulled him back: "What? Can you not hear?"
Being yanked back, Armin quickly looks up at the man and realizes he must've accidentally knocked his drink around.
"I'm sorry," he swiftly says while about to over explain how he didn't mean to and just wanted to get to the door.
"Woah!" the man's angry expression disappeared as his eyebrows raise above where his hair fell over his forehead and a smirk appeared. "You're a guy? Damn, with that mop on your head I thought you were some flat ass girl."
"Uh okay," he didn't know what else to say to that as he began to turn around again. Though, like before, the man's grip on his shoulder yanked him back.
"No I'm serious. What's with this whole outfit anyways? Didn't think it was theme night," he continued.
Armin was just becoming increasingly more aware of the eyes falling on him as the man practically yelled every word. He couldn't even reply before the guy was spitting out more insults.
"I mean seriously? Why even come to a party if you're going to look so—"
"Shut the fuck up Floch," a familiar voice snaps close to Armin's side and pushes the man who'd been terrorizing him back. Your voice practically sounded like angels singing a hymn, even if the only reason Armin was getting chewed out was because you invited him here.
"What? I didn't hear you?" the auburn haired man asked while looking around the crowd with a smile; clearly, trying to ensure people were still on his side.
"Oh as if those big ass ears couldn't hear me," you had a drunk slur to your words, "you shouldn't even be talking about hairstyles!"
With Floch's hand off Armin, he's now trying to gently place his hands on your shoulder and push you away from the other man. He could tell you were pretty drunk, and he did not need you starting some altercation.
"Hey, I think it's fine now," he nervously mumbles in your ear as people stared. Armin could feel anxiety creep in as eyes dart from you, to him, then back to you.
"Like hell it is. Only reason that guy comes to these parties is because he's waiting for Eren to give him the opportunity to suck his dick—"
"Okay, let's keep walking," he interrupts while just guiding you to the door to leave. Looking over his shoulder he sees an embarrassed, and fuming, Floch.
"What? It's true," you murmured while stumbling a bit, but he swiftly steadied you. He eventually had you pulled to the side of the room against a wall close to the door. He didn't know if you wanted to leave now, even if it's probably the best choice, but he knew you couldn't be here alone.
"Where'd your friends go?" he asked. Right now, he wasn't even thinking about how you ditched him a hour ago. You didn't seem to hear him, so his hands gently came up and cradled your jaw while reiterating the question. Finally, you noticed his words.
"Oh uh," you glanced around the sea of people and spotted one, "she's over there."
Following your gaze, Armin's eyes land on a woman standing on the frat's pool table while dancing like some gogo dancer.
"Is she the only one?" he hesitantly asks since he could assume the answer.
"No, the rest are around her."
Eyes casting downwards he just sees a crowd that seemed just as far gone as you. Like hell he would knowingly leave you here with friends too drunk to care about you wandering off.
"Right, let's just go," and he began to delicately push you towards the door once more as you complied without protest.
¡Loser Armin! who really is a caring soul. When he saw you belligerently drunk, he couldn't force himself to remain that upset. Even if you did ditch him at the party.
In the car, you reeked of alcohol and laid your head on the center consul as he just began to drive back to your sorority house. A song softly played in the background so it wasn't complete silence, but your voice broke the atmosphere.
"Armin?" you mumbled— great, at least you knew you were with him.
"Yeah?" he glanced over to just see you positioned yourself to look up at him despite the seatbelt straining. His eyes revert back to the road.
"Are we going back to mine?" he couldn't help but notice how precious your voices sounded all soft as it slurred slightly.
"Mhm, I'm going to drop you off."
"You can come inside too," you whispered while look at his features: long eyelashes, ocean blue eyes, and soft blonde hair.
"I will to make sure you get to your room," he reasoned without glancing down. From his peripheral vision, he could tell you were staring at him though.
"No, I mean stay there. I like having you around."
He went quiet for a moment while the only noises were the radio and clicking of his blinker while he turned onto the street your sorority was on. Your hand reaches up mindlessly and traces over the curve of his jawline before running down his chest. He couldn't tell if you wanted to touch him, or just entertaining yourself as the alcohol muddied your thoughts.
"I don't think you'd like that," he whispers while parking just outside the house. He looks down at you and his hand tenderly grabs yours that has been resting over his heart.
"But I would. I wanna be with you."
He knew you might've just been babbling from the liquor, but you even saying you want to be with him hit hard. He considered things quietly while reaching to help lift you upwards so you sat properly. He needed you to sit up and then go help you out. Without a word, he started to move.
However, once he looked away and his hand went to the drivers door handle, your arm shot out and held onto the side of his shirt.
"Do you wanna be with me too?"
His head turned and looked into your glossy eyes while admiring the flush your drinks had given you. Armin didn't want to rush into this like he had with being intimate with you. How eager he was without thinking of anything else. He didn't want to blindly trust, but instead build something.
"I can," he paused and found the right wording, "I can stay for tonight."
"Mmh, good," you whispered as your grip loosened so he could get out. He already made a check list of things to do while jumping out of the car and crossing to your door: carefully haul you up the stairs to your room, peel off those heels, and take off your makeup if you're cooperative. He believes he's overheard women talk about not ever sleeping in makeup before.
At the last of his list, it was to simply lay in bed next to you while a bottle of Advil and water laid on your bedside table. He knew you'd wake up with a hangover, but he didn't know if you'd wake up and feel the same way you expressed in his car.
"a—are you s—sure?" he asked nervously despite his aggressive panting with his cock sitting against your fully unclothed cunt, red and leaking. he was enamored by the bright glistening of your soaked pussy in the light of his dorm room, his tongue jotting out to lick over his dry lips. you whispered his name eagerly, instead guiding him in with your own hand. first the tip. he whimpered halfway in, almost pulling back if it weren't for the mind-numbing grip of your cunt.
"w—wait! 'm not gonna last!" he warned, forcing his hips still. " 'm gonna cum if i go any further." he whined in embarrassment, sheets crumpled up in his hands that laid beside your head.
"it's okay.. just let go." you reassured him sweetly, scratching down his abdomen slowly with a very light scrape of your fingernails. his body shook under exertion, pushing in slowly. wrong move. he could feel everything. every tiny crevice of your gooey walls, the wetness that covered his cock whole with every inch and finally the dip in your cervix. and he came. painting your walls white with a groan.
it's been an hour or two since then.
"s—so good.." he was practically shivering to get a taste of your cunt each time he pulled back out, hand wrapped around your nape and your ass arched upwards.
plap plap plap!
it echoed in the room, your calls of his name muffled by the pillow you were shoved into. stuffed with cum and continuing to be stuffed with cum. his tongue hung out his mouth like a panting dog, drool sliding down the sides of his mouth and falling to your skin. or was it his crying? you could barely tell the difference between his drool and his tears.. his glasses were fogged up and tilted to the side, lashes covered in salty droplets as they fell from his reddened face. "it hurts.. but.. hurts s—so g—good.. fucking love this pussy." he babbled, sobbing softly with the occasional hiccup and leaning down to lick a strip up your shoulder blade, the warm metal bud of his piercing rolling against your skin before he latched greedily onto your shoulder slobbering and licking up your sweat.
his balls were so drained, tight and in pain. one more time, he promised himself. and then he'd stop. he said that the last few times, too. your cunt was just so addictive. he could fuck you for days on end if it were to be possible.
he groaned loudly, pushing whatever he had left inside his aching balls inside of you, hips placed tightly against your backside.
he didn't bother wipe off the steam from his glasses, said glasses having slipped down to bottom of his nose. covered in sweat and eyes puffy from crying, lips red and wet. it was the hottest thing you've ever seen. he hadn't even pulled out of you yet before he opened his mouth.
"can... can you come over tomorrow too?”
i am unhealthily obsessed with nerd armin tbh. should I make an extended version of this ? 🤔
you and your boyfriend playing who can seduce nerd!armin arlert first ╱ mdni. threesome finally happening but with lots of feelings, spanking and anal sex. wc: 5.5k ˚.✦
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Bonus
Armin wakes slowly.
First sensation: warmth. Everywhere. A heavy arm slung across his waist (Jean’s), fingers splayed loose and possessive over his stomach. Soft hair tickling his neck (yours), your face tucked into the crook of his shoulder, breath steady against his collarbone. Legs intertwined. His thigh slotted between both of yours, your calf hooked over his, Jean's knee pressed to the back of his.
Second sensation: pressure.
He's half-hard.
Not fully, thank god, but enough that the ache is impossible to ignore. His cock twitches against the soft cotton of his boxers, trapped between his thigh and the heat of your hip. Every small shift of your body against him sends a fresh pulse of want through him. Jean's arm tightens reflexively in sleep, pulling Armin closer and the friction makes his breath hitch.
He doesn't dare move.
Doesn't want you to know.
His face burns. He stares at the ceiling, willing his body to calm down, but it refuses. The longer he lies there (cocooned between you both) the worse it gets. Your breasts are soft against his side, rising and falling with each slow breath. Jean's hand has slipped lower in sleep, fingertips now resting just above the waistband of Armin's jeans. Every exhale from either of you brushes sensitive skin.
Armin bites the inside of his cheek. He's never been this turned on from cuddling before or never felt this desperate just from being held. But it's you. And it's Jean.
His hips twitch once and he clamps down on the motion so fast his abs tense.
You sigh in your sleep, nuzzling closer. Your nose drags along the side of his throat. Your thigh slides higher, pressing right against the base of his cock through the layers of fabric.
A helpless sound escapes Armin's throat before he can stop it. He freezes again, mortified.
Jean stirs. His eyes crack open first, then sharpen when he registers Armin's face: flushed to the roots of his hair, lips parted, breathing shallow and careful.
Jean's gaze drops.
He feels iimmediately the hard line of Armin pressed against his thigh, the tension in every muscle, the way Armin is trying (and failing) to stay perfectly still. Jean's mouth curves. He doesn’t say anything at first. Just shifts his hand from Armin's stomach to his hip.
Armin's eyes squeeze shut.
Jean leans in, lips brushing the shell of Armin's ear. "Morning, pretty," he whispers, so quiet it’s barely sound.
Armin shivers hard. His cock jumps against Jean's thigh.
"You're okay," he murmurs. "We've got you."
Armin’s eyes flutter open, glassier than ever. He looks wrecked already and nothing's even happened yet.
"I didn't mean to," His voice cracks. "I'm sorry, I just..."
Jean shushes him gently. Presses a kiss to his temple.
"Nothing to be sorry for."
You stir then, sleepy murmur against Armin’' neck. "Mmm… what’s happening?"
Jean glances over Armin's head, meets your sleepy eyes and smirks. "Our boy woke up needy," he says.
You prop yourself up on one elbow looking down at Armin's flushed face, then where the comforter tents just slightly, where his hips are shifting in tiny rocks.
"Hi," you whisper, brushing hair off his forehead. "Feeling okay?"
Armin nods frantically and shakes his head right after.
"I don’t know what to do," he admits. "I just… want you both. And I'm... god, I'm so hard it hurts, I didn’t want to wake you up, and I’m embarrassed, and..."
You cut him off with the softest kiss to the corner of his mouth.
"Shhh."
Jean's hand slides lower, cupping Armin through his boxers. Armin's hips jerk up into the touch before he can stop himself. A broken little whine slips out. Jean groans low in his throat.
"Fuck, baby," he breathes. "You don’t have to be embarrassed with us."
You kiss Armin properly then, swallowing the next sound he makes. Your hand joins Jean's, fingers lacing together over the hard length of him. Armin breaks the kiss with a gasp.
"Please," he whispers, looking between you both with desperate eyes. "Please touch me. I... I need..."
Jean kisses his jaw. "We’ve got you," he promises again.
Armin exhales shakily into your mouth, lips parting on instinct and you take the invitation. Tongue sweeping in gentle, tasting the faint sweetness of last night's ginger ale still clinging to him. He whimpers and the sound goes straight to your core.
Jean watches for half a heartbeat, then turns Armin's face toward him with two fingers under his chin. The kiss Jean gives him is deeper, his tongue slides against Armin's in slow strokes, making Armin to arch off the mattress. When Jean pulls back just enough to let Armin breathe, a thin silver thread of spit connects their mouths for a second before it snaps.
Armin's chest heaves. His cheeks are scarlet and pupils blown so wide the blue is almost gone.
You kiss the corner of his jaw while Jean claims his mouth again. Then Jean trails down to suck softly at the pulse point under Armin's ear while you nip at his lower lip. Back and forth, never letting him catch his breath or letting the attention lapse for even a second.
It’s too much. Armin makes an overwhelmed sound and his hands fist in the sheets so hard his knuckles bleach white.
"Wait, wait," he gasps. "I can’t s'too much—"
You both freeze instantly.
Jean pulls back first, searching Armin's face with sudden worry. "Hey, hey. You okay?"
"It’s just… a lot. All at once. I don't know where to look. Where to feel." He laughs awkwardly. "It’s good. It’s so good. But uh I feel like I’m gonna break."
You cup his face gently, thumbs brushing away the dampness under his eyes. "You’re not breaking, baby. You're just feeling everything. That’s okay."
Jean presses an open-mouthed kiss to Armin's temple. "You don't have to keep up. Just let us take care of you."
Armin nods again, his breathing is still ragged, but he leans into both of your touches like he's starving for them.
You kiss him softly then pull back just enough to ask the question that's been burning since last night.
"Armin…" Your voice is gentle. "Have you… ever done this before? With someone?"
He swallows hard and nods.
"Yeah," he whispers. "A couple times. But it was… awkward. And short. And I didn't really… enjoy it much. I was always so nervous I'd finish too fast, or do something wrong, or...” He stops himself when feeling the heat of his cheeks. "I'm scared I'll come the second you touch me. I don't want to disappoint you."
Jean's expression softens, his eyes relaxing into complete devotion for the blond man.
"Baby," he murmurs, "you could come the second we look at you and it wouldn't disappoint us. It'd be the hottest fucking thing we've ever seen."
You nod, pressing kisses along Armin's jaw, down the column of his throat. "We want you to feel good. If you come fast, we'll just make you come again."
Armin whimpers at the words alone.
Jean kisses him slow and deep while you trail your mouth down his chest, over the yellow cotton, feeling his heart hammering under your lips.
"We're gonna worship you," Jean promises against Armin's mouth. "You’re perfect. You’re so fucking perfect."
You slide your hands under the hem of his shirt, fingertips brushing bare skin. "Can we take this off, pretty boy?"
When Armin nods, you and Jean work together. Jean lifts the shirt while you guide his arms up, peeling the yellow fabric away inch by inch. The morning light catches on his pale skin, the faint freckles scattered across his shoulders and the way his nipples pebble instantly in the cool air. You both pause to look like he's something holy.
"God," Jean breathes, voice wrecked. “Aren't you a sight.”
You lean down and kiss the center of his chest, right over his racing heart. "Beautiful."
Armin's hands fly up to cover his face, but Jean catches his wrists gently and pulls them down.
"Uh-uh, no hiding," Jean murmurs. "Let us see you."
You drag your nails lightly down his sides then hook your fingers in the waistband of his jeans. Jean mirrors you on the other side.
"These too?" you ask softly.
Armin nods again, biting his lip so hard it turns white.
Together, you slide the denim down his thighs taking his boxers with them. His cock springs free, flushed dark and leaking steadily at the tip, curving up toward his stomach. He’s so hard it looks painful.
"Fuck, baby," Jean rasps. "You’re gorgeous."
You wrap your hand around him just holding. Armin's hips jerk up into the touch with a choked sound tearing out of him.
"Easy," you soothe, kissing his hipbone. "We've got all morning."
Jean leans down and kisses the inside of Armin's thigh then looks up at him through his lashes.
"You're allowed to come whenever you want," he says. "As many times as you want. We're not stopping until you're boneless and smiling."
Armin's eyes flutter shut. "Okay," he whispers.
Jean's mouth finds yours over Armin's shoulder like he's asking permission even now. You meet him halfway, lips parting on a shared exhale and tongues sliding together in a wet glide. Armin watches with his head tipped back against the pillow, lips swollen from earlier kisses.
Your hand is already wrapped around him brushing feather-light over the slick head every few strokes. Armin's hips twitch up into your grip on every pass, helpless jerks he can't control. He's leaking steadily now, precome easing the slide, making every movement slick and obscene.
Jean breaks the kiss with a low groan, forehead resting against yours for a second before he turns to Armin. He catches Armin's mouth in a kiss, tongue stroking in time with your hand, swallowing the broken little sounds Armin can't hold back.
You speed up, twisting your wrist on the upstroke, thumb pressing firmly against the sensitive underside. Armin's back arches off the bed with a choked whine muffled against Jean's lips.
Jean pulls back enough to watch, his hand sliding down to cup Armin's balls, rolling them gently, adding another layer of sensation that makes Armin's thighs tremble.
"You're doing so good, baby," Jean rasps against Armin's ear. "So pretty when you're this close."
Armin's head thrashes once. "I-I can't, I’m gonna—"
You lean down, kissing the corner of his mouth while your hand keeps the perfect rhythm. "Then come," you whisper. "Let go for us. We want to see it."
Jean's free hand threads through Armin's hair, holding him steady so he can't hide his face. "Come on, pretty. Show us how good we make you feel."
Armin's eyes squeeze shut. His hips buck hard into your fist. A keening sound tears out of him as he comes. Hot and thick pulses spilling over your fingers, streaking across his stomach in messy white ropes. His whole body locks up, trembling violently, his thighs clamping around your hand as wave after wave rolls through him.
You keep milking every last shudder out of him until he's gasping, hips jerking away and then back because he can't decide what he wants.
Jean kisses him through the aftershocks, soothing presses of lips against the corner of his eye.
You finally ease your hand off, wiping it absently on the sheet before cupping Armin's face instead. "There you go," you whisper. "So beautiful. So perfect."
"I... I didn't last…" he starts.
Jean cuts him off with a tender kiss to his forehead. "You lasted exactly as long as you were supposed to. And it was the hottest thing I've ever seen."
You smile against Armin's cheek, pressing soft kisses there. "We're nowhere near done with you yet, pretty boy."
Armin shivers, already half-hard again just from the praise and the way you're both looking at him. Jean's hand slides down, collecting some of the mess on Armin's stomach with two fingers, then brings them to Armin's lips.
"Taste yourself," he murmurs.
Armin hesitates, his eyes flicking between you. When he parts his lips, Jean pushes in slowly, letting Armin curl his tongue around the digits however he desires. The blond starts tentative, scared to do it wrong somehow, then he becomes bolder, even sucking them gently. That makes Jean groan, feeling Armin wetting his fingers and recollecting every drop of his own cum.
You just watch, pressing your thighs together thanks to the sight. You lean down to lick a stripe up Armin's throat, making him whine around Jean's fingers. He pops them out of Armin's before leaving a wet kiss in Armin's lips
He licks his lips once, then speaks, eager with excitement rather than nerves for the first time.
"I want to make you feel good too," he says, looking straight at you. His gaze flicks down to where your thighs are pressed together. "Both of you." He swallows, making an awkward stop. "I can eat pussy really well! I practiced a lot. On my own, I mean. With toys. And I read a lot. I know how to make it build slow then crash hard. I want to show you. Please?"
The confession tumbles out fast, almost desperate, bracing for laughs or denial. You feel a fresh rush of heat between your legs just from the earnest way he's asking. Jean lets out a sound low in his throat.
"Fuck, baby,” he murmurs, thumb brushing Armin's swollen bottom lip. "You're full of surprises."
Armin nods frantically, looking at you. "I want to. I really want to. Can I taste you? Now?"
You sit up, shrug out of your top in one smooth motion, then shimmy your shorts and panties down your thighs. Armin watches every second like he's memorizing it.
When you're bare, you lean back against the headboard, spread your thighs slowly, letting him see how wet you already are.
"Come here, pretty boy," you say softly.
Armin moves before the words are fully out. He crawls between your legs, looking up at you with those big blue eyes asking for permission one last time.
You thread your fingers through his blond hair, guiding him down gently.
He lowers himself, ass lifting instinctively as he settles on his stomach between your thighs. The posture is obscene. Back arched, hips tilted up, knees spread wide for balance, the perfect curve of his ass presented like an offering while his face buries itself against you.
The first lick is tentative, tasting you from entrance to clit in one long stroke. You gasp. He moans against you, the vibration going straight to your core.
His tongue circles your clit with perfect pressure, then dips lower to push inside you, fucking in and out in shallow thrusts before dragging back up to suck gently on the hood. He alternates: flicking fast little kitten licks, then dragging strokes, then sealing his lips around you and humming low in his throat.
It’s devastatingly good.
Your hips roll up into his mouth without permission. He just follows, never breaking rhythm, hands sliding under your thighs to hold you open wider, thumbs spreading you so he can get deeper.
Jean watches it all with hungry eyes.
His hand is already palming himself through his boxers, but his gaze keeps drifting to Armin's raised hips. The way his ass is arched high, cheeks spread slightly from the position and hole winking every time Armin rocks forward to chase more of your taste.
Jean swallows hard. He leans over Armin's back with his mouth right against the shell of Armin's ear. "Goddamn," he says. "Ass up like that while you eat her out. So fucking pretty."
Armin whimpers into your cunt, tongue faltering for half a second before he redoubles his efforts, sucking harder on your clit.
Jean's hand slides down the length of Armin's spine until his palm cups one cheek, kneading gently.
"You’re doing so good for her," Jean murmurs. "Making her shake already. Can you feel how wet she is? How much she likes your mouth?"
Armin nods against you, nose bumping your clit with every movement.
Jean's thumb traces the cleft of Armin's ass, circling the tight and obviously untouched ring without pushing in. Armin jolts, driving his tongue deeper into you.
Jean groans. "Fuck, baby," he breathes. "Is this okay? Me touching you here while you eat her pussy?"
Armin pulls off just long enough to gasp. "Yes! P-please, touch me."
Jean kisses the small of Armin's back then spits onto his fingers before circling his hole again. One finger presses, breaching just the first knuckle. Armin cries out against your clit, the vibration ripping a moan from your throat.
Jean doesn't push deeper yet. Just rocks that single finger in tiny thrusts while Armin goes back to work on you, desperate to make you come while Jean opens him up.
"That’s iiiit, baby," you gasp. "A-ah! Jus' like that, don't stop fuck gonna come on your tongue!"
Jean adds a second finger, curling them just enough to brush that spot inside. Armin sobs into your cunt, whole body trembling, ass clenching rhythmically around Jean's fingers.
You tip over the edge with a sharp cry, thighs clamping around Armin's head as you pulse against his tongue. He drinks you down greedily, licking through every flutter until you're whining.
When you finally push his head away, his chin and lips are glistening, eyes glassy and proud.
Jean doesn’t stop fingering him, stretching him open while Armin pants against your thigh.
"Can I fuck you, baby?" he asks, pressing a kiss to the dimples at the base of Armin's spine. "Pretty please?"
Armin looks back over his shoulder. He nods.
"Yes," he breathes. "I want it, fuck I want it bad."
Jean groans. He glances at you with a silent question. You smile, still catching your breath and reach for the lube on the nightstand.
"Keep eating her out, gorgeous." Jean opens the lube with a sharp sound, heating it with his fingers.
"Jean..." you try, gasping for breath. You just cum and now your boyfriend is telling your (luckily soon) other boyfriend to keep eating you out.
Jean completely ignores your plead.
"Focus on that needy pussy, 'Min. She's beggin' for more," Jean says, smiling wickedly at you.
Armin shivers hard, ass still high, hole fluttering around Jean's fingers, face buried against your thigh like he's already addicted.
Jean's hands are steady on his hips, thumbs digging into the soft flesh just above the curve of his ass while he lines himself up. Armin's tongue keeps dragging slow circles around your clit like he's trying to memorize every inch of you. Jean leans over him, chest to Armin's back, lips brushing the shell of his ear.
"Ready, baby?" he whispers, restraining himself.
Armin nods, muffled against your cunt then lifts his head just enough to gasp, "Please ah! I need it s'much."
Jean presses forward, watching Armin's spine ripple as he sinks in. Armin's mouth falls open on a broken moan, hot breath fanning over your folds. The stretch is visible, his rim clinging tight around Jean's cock, fluttering with every careful thrust.
You card your fingers through Armin's hair, guiding him back down. "Keep going, sweet boy."
Armin obeys instantly, tongue plunging back inside you, nose bumping your clit with every forward rock of his body from Jean's rhythm. The three of you find a pace: Jean's deep rolls pushing Armin's face harder against you, your hips lifting to meet his mouth, a perfect loop.
"Fuck," Jean groans, head tipping back for a second. "S'tight. So good for us."”"
Armin's moans vibrate straight through your core. His cock is hard again, leaking steadily onto the sheets, untouched and twitching every time Jean bottoms out.
Jean cuts him off with a roll of his hips. Grinding deep, pressing right against that spot inside that makes Armin’s spine bow.
"Say. It. Again."
Armin's voice is mortified, but filled with want. "S-spank me," he whispers. "Please. I hah I want it. I want you to mmph! hurt me a little. Just... please."
You and Jean exchange one quick look over Armin's back. Both of you stunned, both of you suddenly aching with how unexpectedly filthy he is under all that shy sweetness.
Jean recovers first, his hand smoothing up Armin's spine before lifting. The first smack lands sharp and loud on the right cheek.
Armin yelps then moans brokenly into your pussy, hips jerking forward so his tongue fucks deeper inside you.
"Holy shit, baby," Jean says. "You really are a little freak, aren't you?"
Armin's face burns hotter, he tries to hide it against your thigh, but Jean's next smack forces another cry out of him.
"Hiding now?" You stroke his hair. "After begging so pretty?"
Another smack. Armin's ass blooms pink under Jean's palm. He sobs against your clit with his tongue working desperate to please even while he's falling apart.
Jean keeps the rhythm (thrust, smack, thrust, smack) each impact timed to drive Armin deeper into you, each one making Armin's hole clench so tight around Jean's cock that Jean's own rhythm starts to falter.
"You like that, baby, don't ya?" Jean growls.
Armin can't answer. He only knows how to whine and lick now.
You're close again, thighs shaking around his head, fingers twisting in his hair.
"Holy shit, slow down, Armin!" you gasp, feeling that type of weird sensation in your belly.
Jean’s hand comes down again and Armin shatters.
He comes untouched. Cock spurting weakly against the sheets, body convulsing, hole spasming around Jean so tight it drags Jean over the edge too. Jean buries himself deep, groaning long and low as he fills Armin, hips stuttering through the aftershocks.
"Nghhh, f-fuck Armin!"
Armin keeps licking you through his own orgasm until you tip over too, crying out as you pulse against his tongue, thighs clamping tight around his ears. You gush all over him, seeing how he drinks it all up without even thinking it.
The room goes quiet except for harsh breathing.
Jean pulls out carefully, watching his come drip from Armin's used hole. Armin collapses forward, face buried in your belly, panting against your skin.
You stroke his hair, gentle now.
Jean leans down, kisses the red handprints on Armin’s ass then crawls up to lie beside you both.
Armin lifts his head just enough to look at you. "I didn't mean to say that out loud,” he mumbles, suddenly shy again. "I'm sorry if it was weird. I just... when it feels too good I stop thinking and..."
"Not weird," you whisper against his lips. "Hot. So fucking hot."
Jean presses a kiss to Armin's shoulder, then his neck. "You’re perfect," he murmurs. "Every filthy little part of you."
Armin hides his face in the crook of your neck but smiling now. You wrap your arms around him, he leaves a kiss between your breasts before resting his cheek there, staring at Jean. He scoots closer, long arm draping over both of you.
No one speaks for several long minutes.
Just the sound of slowing breaths, the occasional soft whimper when someone shifts and sensitive skin rubs together. Jean's hand strokes soothing lines down Armin's side, you card your fingers through Armin's damp hair, massaging his scalp until his body finally stops quivering.
Jean is the first to break the quiet.
"You okay, baby?" he whispers before pressing a kiss behind Armin's ear. "That was… a lot."
Armin nods against your throat. "Yeah. Really good. Just… floaty."
You smile, kiss the top of his head. "Floaty is perfect. You were perfect."
The blond can't help to let out a giggle and hide his face in your neck to leave thankful kisses. He's still waiting for the dream to end and wake up hard in his dorm. But the soft touches of your nails in the short hairs of his scalp and the gentle but raspy voice of Jean makes him realize that it is very real.
"What do people say in these situations?" Armin asks with a tiny smile. "Post-nut conversations? Post-nut clarity?"
"We usually just clean each other up and then cuddle," you explain to Armin, looking down at him.
"Don't lie to him, she just picks her phone to play Block Bast after cumming," Jean practically attacks, arching his brows at you.
"That's so not true, oh my god! Armin, baby, he's being stupid. Don't listen to him. I would never play a game after having sex with you," you reassure him extra seriously, grabbing his face between your hands until he's pouting.
"She's on level 173, by the way. Ow!" Jean points out, gaining a slap on the back of his neck from you.
Armin bursts into laughter, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep and happy he didn’t even know he had. His whole body shakes with it, cheek still pressed to your chest and the vibration makes you giggle too.
Jean pretends to be wounded, clutching the back of his neck dramatically. "I can't believe my girlfriend just hit me,” he deadpans. "My girlfriend just assaulted me because I exposed her shameful Block Blast addiction."
You roll your eyes so hard it’s audible.
"It's not an addiction, it's a hobby," you insist, then look down at Armin with innocent eyes. "Right, baby? Tell him it's a perfectly normal thing to do after sex."
Armin is still laughing too hard to speak properly. He manages a wheezy, "I hah I think it's cute," before dissolving again.
Jean gasps in mock betrayal. "You too, Armin? I can't believe it..."
Armin finally catches his breath enough to speak, wiping at his eyes with the heel of his hand.
"I mean… level 173 is impressive," he says solemnly, but his lips keep twitching. "We should either get her a trophy or a support group."
You gasp and pinch his cheek gently. "Oh, I see how it is. One orgasm and suddenly you're Team Jean."
"I’m Team Both!" he declares.
Jean snorts and leans over to kiss Armin's temple, lingering there.
"You're dangerous when you're relaxed, you know that?" he murmurs. "All sharp and funny. And unfairly pretty."
Armin blushes, but he doesn't duck his head this time. Instead he tilts his face up and kisses Jean quick and sweet, then turns and pecks you on the chin.
You melt a little and pull him up so you can kiss him properly. Full of all the affection you couldn't fit into words yet.
When you pull back, you rest your forehead against his. "We’re gonna take care of you, Armin," you whisper, serious now, thumb brushing his cheekbone. "If you let us, we want you to be ours."
Jean's hand finds yours over Armin's heart, lacing your fingers together so all three sets of knuckles rest against his skin.
"Yeah," Jean adds, certain. "And we wanna be yours, too."
"Are you... are you asking me to be your boyfriend?" he says quietly.
You kiss his nose, Jean kisses his temple.
"Yeah. What do you think?" You and Jean pull back a little, so you can stare at him properly while he thinks of an answer.
"Fuck," he breathes out, but doesn't think for more than one second. "Fuck yes, I'd be delighted to be your partner."
The word yes is barely out of Armin's mouth before you and Jean move like you've been waiting for it your whole lives.
You lunge first, grinning so wide it hurts, cupping his face with both hands and kissing him hard, full of giddy relief and unrestrained joy. Armin makes a startled sound against your lips that turns into laughter when you don't let up, peppering his mouth, his cheeks, the tip of his nose, his closed eyelids with quick kisses. "Mine," you mumble between each one. "Our boyfriend. Holy shit."
Jean's right behind you, crowding in from the other side, one hand sliding to the nape of Armin's neck while the other wraps around his waist and yanks him flush against both of your bodies. He kisses Armin's temple, then his jaw, then the sensitive spot just under his ear.
Armin is drowning in it.
He's laughing, hiccupping giggles, trying to kiss you both back at the same time and failing spectacularly because there are simply too many mouths and not enough of him. His hands flail for a second before settling, pulling you both closer like he's afraid this is still a dream that might end.
Armin breaks away just long enough to gasp, "Wait! Wait!"
Then you dive back in to kiss the corner of his mouth while Jean attacks the other side, turning it into a sloppy three-way mess of lips and tongues. Armin makes the most ridiculous, happy little noise and tries to chase both of you at once.
Jean pulls back first, only an inch, breathing hard against Armin's cheek.
“Boyfriend,” he repeats, testing the word like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. Then he kisses Armin again while you scatter kisses across Armin’s jaw and throat.
When Jean finally lets him breathe, Armin’s lips are swollen and shiny, his face a riot of pink from forehead to collarbones.
You both meet him halfway, turning it into another chaotic pile of kisses. Three sets of lips bumping, missing, finding each other again, giggling into each other's mouths.
Jean's voice is wrecked when he finally speaks again, forehead pressed to Armin's.
"Say it one more time," he murmurs. "Wanna hear it."
Armin doesn't hesitate.
"I'm your boyfriend," he says, smiling so wide his eyes crinkle. "And you're mine. Both of you."
You make a soft, overwhelmed sound and bury your face in his neck, kissing the pulse there over and over. Jean wraps both arms around Armin, squeezing until Armin squeaks, then kisses the top of his head.
"Damn right we are," Jean says.
You pull back just enough to look at them both. Your two beautiful and ridiculous boyfriends and feel your heart do that stupid flip again, only this time it feels permanent.
"So,” you say, voice wobbly with happiness, "boyfriends. What now?"
"Now," Armin says, "I think we should make out some more. And then maybe breakfast. And then more making out. And then..."
Jean cuts him off with another kiss.
"Sold," he mutters against Armin's lips.
The morning is still young.
And you’ve got all the time in the world.
a/n: and this is the END of this beautiful three people thank you so much to everyone who read this<3
Summary: It was a snobby high-class country club, and the only reason you ever stepped foot on its grounds was because of the stupidly hot upcoming young pro golfer. ۶ৎ Armin x black fem reader ۶ৎ
Context: Outdoor sex, unprotected sex, face down ass up, tongue peircing, oral (male and female), dirty talk, name calling (ma, slut, whore), hair pulling, dom Armin, picture taking
Word count — 5.2k
The thing about going to a top-tier high school was that everyone acted like they were two business calls away from running the country. Every hallway conversation was a flex-off—who landed the better internship, who had the higher GPA, who was casually being groomed to take over their family’s tech empire. Everyone was somebody, or pretending hard enough to fake it.
You didn’t have to pretend.
You weren’t just rich. You were connected. Your parents made sure of that. Old money, black excellence, and carefully cultivated prestige followed your name like a designer label.
But unlike the rest of the pill-popping trust fund babies who sniffed coke in bathroom stalls and pretended to give a damn in Model UN, you actually had the résumé to back it up.
President of three student orgs. Captain of the swim team. Debate medals. Volunteer hours. Invited to think tanks at sixteen.
And God, you were so bored.
Everything felt easy now. Predictable. College had sharpened you more than high school ever did, but even here, surrounded by social climbers and legacy students, you’d already hit the ceiling. You were graduating in a month. Off to Rome in June for a summer internship that your professors called “life-changing” and your father’s friends called “brilliant positioning.”
And still—bored.
So fucking bored you could scream.
Your eyes drifted behind your sunglasses, scanning the manicured lawns of the country club like you were searching for something interesting. Nothing but rich people playing dress-up in white and pastels, swinging overpriced clubs, and gossiping behind mimosa glasses.
“If you keep spacing out like that,” a dry voice said beside you, “I may start to think you don’t like me.”
You blinked once, slowly, turning your head toward the man sitting across from you on the club’s patio. “Uncle Levi,” you said, tone flat, “you know I like spending time with you. But I hate this country club.”
Levi Ackerman smirked behind his espresso. You weren’t blood, but he claimed you like you were. Old friend of your father’s from before the money came in—quiet, blunt, always dressed like he was mourning something. He was also the only person who never sugarcoated things with you. Which made him tolerable.
“Yeah, well,” he said, nodding toward the sprawling green in the distance, “at least the view’s decent.”
And he was right.
You took a slow sip of your iced coffee, letting the condensation roll lazily down the cup as your eyes drifted across the range. They landed—again, like muscle memory—on him.
The tall, lean figure in a black polo. Standing near the far practice green, focused and alone. His hands adjusted on the grip of his club with the kind of precision that felt… sensual. Like he thought with his fingertips. Like he trusted his body to remember what his brain wouldn’t say out loud.
Sunlight caught the sweep of his blond hair, brushing it back from his forehead as he shifted his stance. His shirt clung to the sharp lines of his back, and when he swung—fluid, effortless, perfect—you felt your stomach twist.
That was the thing about Armin Arlert.
You’d learned his name a few weeks ago—just in passing, during one of your father’s rare attempts at small talk over dinner.
“He’s the future of the sport,” he’d said. “Quiet kid. Smart. Good form. I invested in his early sponsorship.”
Your ears perked up. You didn’t usually care about what your father invested in. Startups. Political campaigns. A few underground fashion brands trying to break into Tokyo. But this? A person?
“Golf?” you’d repeated flatly, twirling your fork.
Your father nodded. “Young pro, he goes to your college—same year. Sponsored by one of the top athletic firms. He’s got the numbers. All he needs is a clean image and a few more wins. We’re grooming him to be the next golden boy.”
And then he pulled up a clip.
It was less than 90 seconds long—just Armin on a course, mid-tournament. His jaw tight. Eyes focused. Wind in his hair. He moved like the world around him didn’t exist. Like the only thing that mattered was the ball, the swing, the arc.
You'd never been so interested in one of your dad’s boring business tangents.
From that point on, Armin was everywhere. Or maybe it just felt like that. In the student newspaper. On club flyers. In the background of your econ class once or twice. Always quiet. Always composed. But so completely and utterly untouchable.
And that made him irresistible.
Because you didn’t do distant. You didn’t chase. But there was something about him—maybe the way he ignored all the noise, how his entire being was chiseled down into one, singular obsession. Golf.
You could relate.
You’d been obsessed with winning your whole life. And now, bored with everything else, your mind had settled on a new fixation.
Armin Arlert.
Not just because he was beautiful.
Not just because he was brilliant.
But because he didn’t seem to notice you at all.
And you hated that.
“Alright, we’re cutting it close. Yearbooks need to be wrapped by the end of the week. Who’s still left for portraits and legacy blurbs?”
A voice to your left piped up, half-buried in a checklist. “Most of the secret society kids want to do a joint statement. They're scheduling individual shots for later this week.”
You sighed. Of course they were.
“But,” she continued, hesitant, “um—Armin Arlert hasn’t signed up for his photo. And the deadline for that… is today.”
Your pen paused mid-air.
Armin.
The name barely had time to hang in the air before your brain locked onto it like a heat-seeking missile. You blinked once, lashes low, and tilted your head just slightly, trying not to look as interested as you suddenly felt.
“Arlert?” you repeated.
The girl nodded, flipping through the clipboard again. “Yeah. I think he’s been swamped with training or whatever. But if he doesn’t get it in by today, it won’t make print.”
You hummed under your breath, tapping the end of your pen against the table. The meeting buzzed on, voices layered in logistics and complaints—but you’d already tuned out.
You dismissed the meeting soon after, your mind already on the blonde as you unconsciously hunted for him.
You hadn’t even realised you were scanning the quad until you stepped out into the sun, hand shielding your eyes, searching.
It wasn’t stalking, not really. You just happened to remember overhearing—somewhere between class rep gossip and cafeteria noise, that Armin was training on campus today. Something about the varsity golf team getting access to the athletic green while the country club prepped for a corporate retreat.
You saw him perched under a tree, clad in jeans and a polo shirt, jumper tied around his shoulders as he chatted away with Eren Yeager.
"Ahhh, if it isn’t Miss Student Body President herself,” Eren drawled, smirking as he leaned back on his elbows. “To what do we owe the honour? Did the sun come out just for you, or are we just lucky today?”
You ignored the brunette, eyes focused on the blonde who looked up at you as you enetred his view.
“Armin,” you started, voice smooth but edged with command. “You need to take your yearbook photo. Today.”
He blinked. “What?”
You took another step closer, ignoring Eren’s smug little smirk from the side. “You know, the photo you’ve conveniently been avoiding. Legacy, remember? Don’t try to tell me you don’t have time, because clearly you have time to sit around entertaining miscreants.”
“Rude,” Eren mumbled with a laugh, not even offended.
Armin sat up straighter, clearly caught off guard. “I didn’t realise the deadline was today.”
“Well, now you do,” you replied, arms crossing lightly under your chest. “And since I personally came all the way out here to remind you, the least you can do is follow me back and make it quick.”
There was a long pause, you watched Armin shift slightly, something thoughtful in his expression. He wasn’t flustered—he didn’t seem like someone who ever got flustered—but there was a flicker of curiosity behind his calm demeanour. Like he was trying to figure you out.
"I can't today. I have practice."
You stared.
Eren let out a snort. “Damn, I think he just rejected the queen herself. History in the making.”
You ignored him again.
“Practice,” you repeated, one brow arching. “You’re on a bench under a tree, Arlert.”
His lips twitched, just slightly. “I was about to start.”
“Mhm.”
"And, I don't really care about leaving a legacy behind, and if you really need a picture, can't you just get a quick candid when I'm practising?"
Your brow twitched at the second basic 'no'. You didn't do good with the word no.
"Maybe if you get up and come take your picture I'll get daddy to talk to your sponsor about getting you those new clubs that their working on."
You tried really hard to hide your smirk as Armin's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree.
“Damn, bribery? Who’s the miscreant now?”
"Shut up, Eren,” Armin muttered, gaze still on you. “Can you actually get that to happen?”
You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Do you think I make empty promises?”
He didn’t answer, but the look he gave you said enough.
You knew the answer was yes.
After a beat, Armin stood up, brushing off his jeans and slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Fine. I’ll take the picture.”
Your grin widened.
“Great. Studios in the comms building, third floor. I’ll walk you.”
You glanced at Armin from the corner of your eye as the two of you fell into step together. He didn’t speak at first, just adjusted the strap on his bag and kept pace.
"Eren's right. Didn't peg you down for bribery. Me not taking my picture doesn't actually harm you in some way."
You scoffed slightly, heels clicking against the stone steps, smiling softly as students greeted you in pacing.
"I am the head of the committee, so it bothers me when things don't go my way Arlet." Armin felt the corner of his lips pull into a smile, you were just as he thought.
"You know that's kind of like me and golf, its precise so I have to do things exact or it'll just fuck up."
You blinked, caught off guard by the swear that left his lips, you bit your lip softly, feeling the heat go straight to your core.
You finally reached the studio, knocking softly before telling the photographer that someone was here for their picture.
You turned towards the blonde, who was already staring at you.
"What?"
"You really gonna get me them clubs?"
You hummed softly, stepping away from the door as you closed in on him.
"How about I bring them by the club in a couple days and you show me how to use them?"
Arnin chuckled softly, he knew what game you were playing but it wouldn't hurt to play along.
“You want a golf lesson?”
You nodded once. “I’m at the top of the school. I’ve done everything. Won everything. And now I’m bored out of my mind. Graduation can’t come soon enough. So yeah, Armin… I want a golf lesson. And I want you to teach me.”
He held your gaze, a spark flickering behind those thoughtful blue eyes. Then, he stepped toward the studio setup, dropping his bag and rolling his shoulders.
“I’ll send you my schedule.”
Your smile widened. “Looking forward to it, golden boy.”
The breeze teased the hem of your tennis skirt as you made your way across the sprawling green of the country club, sunlight pooling over the trimmed lawn like honey.
It had been a few days since you told Armin you’d bring the clubs.
You remembered talking to your father that night, curled up on the velvet couch in his home office, swirling a mocktail while he poured himself something older than you.
“Get those new golf clubs for Arlert,” you’d said casually, eyes flicking toward your phone screen, where a paused video of Armin’s last tournament.
Your dad had barely looked up from his glass. “Already ahead of you,” he said, voice brimming with the kind of investor excitement that usually puts you to sleep. “Kid’s a prodigy. Ball speed’s insane for his weight class. Balance like a dancer. He's gonna win me a lot of money.”
You bit your lip as your eyes settled on the blonde.
He was stretching, his polo shirt had ridden up your gaze locked in on the happy trail that vanished beneath his belt.
You inhaled, reset your composure, and started walking toward him.
"Hope you're ready for a gift," you called out, causing the blonde to halt his movements.
Armin glanced over his shoulder mid-stretch, brows lifting slightly as he straightened. "Didn’t think you’d actually show."
“You wound me,” you drawled as you stepped closer, arms crossing beneath your chest. His eyes dropped—not subtly. They scanned your whole frame before resting mid thigh, where your pleated tennis skirt teased the bare skin of your thighs.
He didn’t bother hiding the stare.
You didn’t bother hiding the smile.
Then the low hum of an engine broke your moment, a golf cart pulling up beside you. The staffer hopped off and carefully set the bag of clubs at your feet. You murmured a thank-you, dismissing him with a polite nod before nudging the bag toward Armin.
His gaze flicked from the clubs back to your face, and then back again. You saw it—the instant the excitement lit his features like a damn sunrise.
He dropped to a crouch, unzipping the bag with reverence, like it held holy relics. His fingers ghosted over the matte graphite shafts, his mouth parting just slightly.
“Fuck,” he muttered, lifting one of the irons. “These are actually the real deal.”
You giggled as he turned the club over in his hands, admiring every inch of it like it was art.
“TaylorMade’s unreleased line,” you said, letting the pride bleed into your tone. “Balanced for your tempo. Personalized grip. Straight from the R&D lab to your hands. Told you—I don’t make empty promises.”
Armin stood and took a practice swing, slow and smooth. His stance was perfect—shoulders loose, core tight, legs braced with just enough tension. His follow-through was fluid, almost hypnotic.
God, he looked good like that.
He exhaled a low breath and shook his head. “Fuck, fuck—these are fucking legendary.” He brought the club back up, eyes wide with awe. “I’ve never felt anything this smooth. They feel like they were built for me.”
You leaned a little closer, chin tilted up. “They were.”
He looked at you—really looked. Something unreadable flashed behind his expression, something that simmered just beneath the surface of admiration and gratitude.
“You’re kind of insane,” he said, tone light but edged with disbelief. “In the best way.”
You laughed. “I get that a lot.”
He grabbed a ball from his own bag, tossing it lightly into the air before catching it. “Alright, if you’re really serious about this golf lesson, you’re getting the full treatment.”
“Oh?” you asked, arching a brow.
“Grip, stance, swing, posture. No shortcuts. No half-assing.”
You smirked. “I’m not usually the one doing the assing, but okay.”
That made him laugh—really laugh. He rubbed a hand over his face, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe he was putting up with you.
"Okay, some people are visual learners so why don't you watch me with my stance and hit a couple balls and then you'll give it a go."
You nodded, sinking down onto the green, your skirt fanned around your thighs, as you stretched your legs out in front of you. You pushed your sunglasses up into your hair, eyes tracking every move he made.
Armin lined up, posture precise. He rolled his shoulders once, adjusted his grip on the club, then exhaled slowly through his nose. You watched the transformation happen in real time—the soft-spoken golden boy gone laser-focused and lethal.
His swing was a thing of beauty—clean, practiced, elegant. The club sliced through the air with a whisper and connected with the ball with a satisfying crack, sending it sailing in a perfect arc across the range.
You let out a low whistle. “Okay, that was actually kinda sexy.”
He looked over his shoulder at you, shaking his head, but you caught the faint pink blooming in his ears.
“Again,” you said, grinning. “Slow this time.”
Armin rolled his eyes but did as asked, resetting. “You better be paying attention.”
“Oh, I am,” you murmured, voice dropping a note lower.
He hit another. And another. Each swing was different, slightly adjusted for distance and control, but all of them were sharp, intentional, perfect.
After the fourth, he stepped back and turned to you. “Your turn.”
You stood, brushing grass off the back of your thighs with a dramatic sigh. “Fine. But if I break a nail, I’m suing.”
He chuckled, handing you one of the new clubs. “Not a chance. These were built for royalty, remember?”
You took the club, turning it over in your hands like you weren’t just admiring the curve of his back ten seconds ago. You stepped up to the ball, adjusting your grip and spacing your feet like you vaguely remembered him doing.
He walked up behind you, close—but not touching. “You’re too stiff. Relax.”
You arched your back slightly. “Is this better?”
“Nope. Worse,” he said, clearly trying not to smile. “Here—let me help.”
His hands slid onto your hips, gently nudging you into place. His fingers were warm, steady, and stayed a second longer than necessary.
“There,” he said quietly, voice close to your ear. “Now try.”
You swung.
And absolutely whiffed it.
“Shit—”
Armin laughed again, stepping back as you straightened. “We’re gonna be here a while, come on--lets go get the balls."
Armin put his sunglasses on as he helped you into the passenger side, his hand resting on your mid-back. He drove off once he settled in the drivers seat, his hand brushing against your thigh. You crossed your legs, skirt riding up a little, which caused the blonde's hands to pause before they settled on your knee.
The cart pulled to a stop, some balls littered in the distance, the area seemed more private.
Armin helped you out of the cart but before he could say anything, you already walked off and began picking up some of the balls.
You could feel his burning gaze on you as you bent over to pick up the golf balls. You could feel the slight breeze on your ass, you smirked as you heard his murmered curses.
"Okay I'm ready."
You turned to face the blonde who was still standing by the the cart his gaze soley on you.
"Armin."
The boy blinked, gaze adjusting, "Huh, yeah okay, erm okay yeah."
You giggled as Armin grabbed the clubs, he walked over to you, handing over the club before you took your stance.
His breath hit the back of your neck, warm and shallow. You held still as his hand skimmed your wrist, then ghosted along your forearm to adjust your grip. His other hand dropped lightly to your waist.
“Relax your shoulders,” he said, voice softer now. Lower. “And keep your weight even between both feet. You’re leaning into your right side too much.”
You pushed yourself back into his chest, your ass grazing the outline of his dick. You could feel the intake of his breath before his gripped tigheted agaisnt your waist.
"Okay," His breath fanned against your ear, "now take a big swing."
You hummed softly, feeling his grip on your waist tightened, his hand over yours as he gudied you to take your swing.
Your head tilted to the side as his nose brushed the edge of your ear, his hands left your arms before they tightened on your waist.
"Do you want me to fuck you on this field?"
A quiet moan slipped from your lips before you could catch it. The shift between his personality was intense.
His teeth grazed your earlobe, tugging just hard enough to send a jolt down your spine. His hands drifted lower, cupping your ass possessively over the thin fabric of your skirt.
"You think you can?"
The blonde chuckled before his lips met yours. You moaned at the feel and taste of his lips, your hands pressed firmly against his chest, his fingers trailed against your bare thigh before cupping your ass under your skirt.
You gasped as his tongue slipped past your lips, slick and demanding, a cool tap of metal catching against yours. Your fingers curled into his chest, pressing close as realisation settled in.
“Wait—” your voice hitched, “you have your tongue pierced?”
“Mmhmm,” he smirked against your jaw, his lips moving down the column of your throat, hot and unrelenting. “Didn’t think I’d use it on you this soon... but I’m not about to waste the opportunity.”
You moaned again, head tilting back as he scooped you up effortlessly, your thighs locking around his waist on instinct. He kissed you through your surprised laugh, walking both of you to the cart.
The cold leather of the golf cart seat kissed your ass as he sat you down, his lips trailed along the barness of your skin before he fully sunk down to his knees.
You barely had time to blink before his hands were parting your thighs, spreading them open wide beneath your skirt.
“You know,” he murmured, lifting the hem slowly, reverently, “I thought about this. Not like—exactly this, but something close.”
You moaned, head tilting back as you tried to hide your smile, "Yeah? Didn't think you were into me."
Armin kissed the inside of your thighs, fingers barley grazing the outline of your clit before your tugged your panties to your ankles.
"Hmm, whatever gave you that idea?"
"Maybe because—fuck Armin." You gasped, one hand flying to the back of his head when you felt his tongue swipe through your folds—piercing grazing your clit in a way that had your hips jerking up off the seat.
Armin groaned at the taste of you, his tongue welcomed your jucies as he burried his face futher into your cunt.
His hands kept your legs spread as his tongue fucked into you, switching between broad licks and tight flicks over your clit, like he was trying to figure out what made you squirm the most—and then doing exactly that on purpose.
“Taste so fucking good,” he groaned, voice muffled between your thighs. “You’re gonna make me lose my mind. You know that? You think I didn’t know how often you watched me on the field?”
You whimpered, already close, hips rocking against his mouth. He sucked your clit into his mouth, tongue swirling, then popped it with a lewd sound that made your breath hitch.
Your whole body shivered when Armin rolled his piercing over your swollen bud, your fingers tightened in his hair as his two of his fingers bullied their way into your cunt.
Your instantly clenched around them, the squelch loud and obscene as he started to fuck them into you hard and fast.
“Fuck, look at you,” he muttered, voice dark and raw with lust. “Drippin’ like a damn faucet. This pussy’s so wet for me it’s embarrassing. But you like it, don’t you? Like being used out here where anyone could see.”
A scream ripped from your throat, the blonde pulling away to look at your face, his smile was feral as his fingers roughly curled against your G-spot.
“You gonna come on my tongue and fingers like a good girl?” he taunted, pressing messy, wet kisses along your inner thigh. “Wanna make a mess for me? Let everyone know who this pussy belongs to?”
You nodded, breathless, tears threatening to sting your eyes.
“Say it.”
“Y-yes! Armin—please, wanna come for you, wanna come so bad—fuck, don’t stop—!”
He growled and sealed his mouth over your cunt again, the silver ball rolling over your clit one last time as he licked you through the sharp rise of your orgasm until you were writhing, hips jerking, thighs threatening to close around his head. But he held you there, firm and inescapable, until your body trembled against the leather.
Armin finally pulled away from you, his chin wet with your slick, the blonde smiled before he leaned up to press a kiss to your lips, his tongue shoving into your mouth so you could taste yourself on him. When he pulled back, his soaked fingers slipped from between your thighs and lifted to your mouth.
“Open.”
You did as he said—eyes locked on his, you moaned around his fingers as he slid them past your lips. You sucked them in slow, tongue swirling, moaning at your own taste while his gaze darkened further.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered, eyes fixed on the way your lips wrapped around his knuckles.
Armin swore he could have busted a nut right then and there.
You let Armin's fingers go with a soft pop, eyes bold and looking up at him all innocent. It drove him insanse.
The blonde quickly pulled you up, your breathing laboured as he lowered you to the ground, your knees meeting the grass as you became eye level with his crotch.
You watched Armin's fingers as they worked on the belt of his slacks, you bit your lip softly after he freed his cock from it's confinement.
Fuck, fuck there was no way that was gonna fit.
The blonde looked down at you, his lips pulling into a smirk as your eyes widened.
“You can take it,” he said low, gripping the base and dragging the tip slowly across your lips, smearing precum against them. “Open that pretty mouth for me.”
You obeyed instantly, lips parting as he eased himself past them. The first few inches filled your mouth with weight and heat, and he groaned deep—his head falling back for a second, throat tight.
“Fuuuck, there you go,” he rasped, one hand braced on your jaw while the other threaded deep in your braids. “Shit, baby, look at you—so fuckin’ eager now, huh?”
You moaned around him, the sound vibrating through your throat as your tongue curled along the underside of his cock. You could feel him twitch when your spit started to gather, dripping from the corners of your mouth.
He started to guide your movements, slow and steady as he fucked your mouth. Every time you gagged just a little, he moaned like you were a drug.
“Yeah… take it, fuck, just like that,” he growled. “Didn’t think the sweet little President had a dirty fucking mouth like this.”
You whimpered around him, fingers digging into the back of his thighs as he gently rocked his hips forward again.
When he finally pulled back, strings of spit still connected your lips to his cock. His hand gripped your chin, tilting your face up to meet his stare—eyes blown wide, mouth messy, pupils wild with lust.
“Get in the cart,” he said, voice sharp.
You didn’t even hesitate.
As you turned and climbed in, he followed close behind, hands already on your hips. You barely got one knee on the seat before he was crowding you from behind, pushing your skirt up, groaning at the sight of pussy.
“Fucking dripping, and I haven’t even put it in yet. Such a desperate little thing, huh?”
You whimpered, arching your back and wiggling your hips for him, already trembling with need.
Armin ran his tip through your folds causing you to whine, "Your so presistent you know."
He growled, pulling away slightly to stroke himself. “Fucking chasing me for one stupid yearbook photo but you're really just a needy fuckin’ slut, aren’t you? Just wanted me to fuck you.”
You gasped, embarrassment blooming right alongside your arousal. But god, it turned you on more than you'd admit. “Please… Armin, I need it,” you breathed.
“Oh, you need it now?” he sneered, grabbing a handful of your braids, yanking your head back.
You whined, eyes fluttering shut, your pussy clenching around nothing. You didn't even have time to beg him some more before he slammed into you in one deep, brutal thrust, punching the air out of your lungs.
You screamed, back arching, nails digging into the leather of the golf cart seat.
“Fuck yes,” he hissed, setting a punishing rhythm right out the gate. “This pussy’s so goddamn tight—gripping me like you were made for it.”
Your mind was a haze, you would have never had guess that the golden boy, the one who just wants to golf and graduate, had such a sinful cock and a filthy mouth.
He grunted as his hips smacked against your ass, the sound filthy and loud in the quiet of the green. His balls slapped against your clit with every thrust, making you moan uncontrollably.
“Bet you fingered yourself to me, huh?” he panted. “Touchin’ that nasty little cunt thinkin’ about me fucking you stupid. That’s why you got me those clubs, right? Wanted me to thank you just like this.”
You moaned louder, drool slipping past your lips.
He slapped your ass hard, then again, until it stung. “Look at this messy fucking cunt,” he growled, spreading your cheeks wider. “All sloppy and stretched around my dick. That’s what you wanted, huh? Wanted me to treat you like the dumb little whore you are?”
“Y-yes, god, Armin—don’t stop,” you cried, body rocking with every heavy thrust.
He reached around and rubbed your clit mercilessly, fast and tight, just to make you scream again. “Come on then. Be a good slut. Come on my cock.”
You shattered.
You screamed his name, legs shaking violently as your orgasm ripped through you, cunt clenching around his cock like a vice. You collapsed forward, arms limp, drool slipping from your lips as you sobbed through the high.
But Armin didn’t stop.
“Uh-uh. Why you running for?” he chuckled, yanking you back by your waist and slamming into you again, chasing his own release with brutal thrusts that had your body going limp in his hold.
“Fuck—gonna fill you up,” he growled, voice rough and wrecked. “Gonna come so deep, it leaks down your thighs and stains that pretty little skirt. You’ll smell like me for days.”
You weren't sure if you were making sense, you were a babbling sensitive mess as Armin continued to fuck you. Your body molding into the leather seats of the cart as your ass continued to clap against his pelvis.
It didn't take him long before he bottomed out, groaning loudly as he emptied himself inside you.
You moaned softly at the warmth, his cock twitching inside your overstimulated cunt.
He didn’t move for a moment, just gripped your hips and breathed hard, staring down at the mess he’d made of you.
Then he pulled out slow, watching his cum spill out of you and drip to the grass.
Armin chuckled softly, you barely registered the shuffle behind you until Armin helped roll you onto your back on the cart seat. You blinked up at him through hazy, fucked-out tears.
“Wh… what’re you…?” you murmured, voice raw.
"You know how you chased me down for one stupid picture. Isn't it only fair I get one in return?"
Confusion filled your eyes before you saw him bring a polaroid camera up to his face. Your eyes widened, your legs were still spread, his cum dripping out of you, face dazed and perfect.
