「✦over and over again.✦」
Armin Arlert x fem!reader part 1 — part 2
✩ art by @/mochikuyo !!
✩ word count: 11k
✩ nerd!armin, college AU, armin is a creative writing major, infatuation at first sight, SO MUCH yearning, like so much, obsession, porn with plot, drunk fingering, disgustingly sweet mushy intimacy, no penetration (yet ;P), dirty talk, nipple play, so much praise.
⋆⭒˚｡⋆ author’s note: this is my first time publishing any kind of fanfic since my one direction days back in 8th grade LMFAO. Please spare me if I'm rusty, and if you have a req hit that button on my page!!! Enjoy :3
MINORS DNI PLS AND THANKS
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Sweaty bodies clashed and ground into one another, the air palpable and damp. The scent of cheap liquor and salty sweat covered foreheads filled your nose. You had no idea how you wound up in the middle of a packed dance floor, your friends had practically drug you out of your bed to get you here. When they got the invite for an infamous ‘Yeager party’, they made it pretty much impossible for you to say no. Telling you how it was gonna be the “craziest night of your life”
“You’re fucking insane if you don’t go”.
“Y/n you really need to loosen up more”.
blah blah blah.
As much as you loved your friends, the idea of drinking in a frat house with bodies cluttered mindlessly over each other made your stomach dip in the worst way imaginable. You’d much rather stay home and delve head first into the fictional worlds you indulged in through your favorite books, your almost comically large t-shirt on and a glass of wine filled far too close to the brim on your nightstand. You never judged them for their interests in partying and finding a decently not ugly guy to hook up with for the night. You had no room to judge. You stayed home and read books about gay fairies fucking each other, you and your friends were just two opposite sides of the same wanting coin.
You wished you had their confidence, their ability to talk freely to even the furthest of strangers. Maybe it was liquor induced, or maybe it was a concept just beyond your grasp of understanding. Regardless, you found yourself shuffling around Eren Yeager’s crowded living room anyways, the music so loud you could feel the bass in your toes through the rubber soles of your shoes. You’d lost sight of your friends, the unfamiliarity of the faces around you making your heart rate quicken and your vision feel slightly disoriented.
You caught a glimpse of the kitchen just beyond the sea of bodies, looking significantly less inhabited than the living room. You made a break for it, quickly ducking under raised arms and squeezing in between dancing pairs. The flickering light of the poorly hung neon sign that was for some reason in the kitchen, felt like a light at the end of a tunnel of agony. You finally broke through the crowd, the air that wafted around you significantly cooler than the air just feet prior. You made it to the entryway of the kitchen, and in your rushed desperation, you didn’t notice the person you were about to hurl yourself into until it was too late.
Your nose slammed into their rigid chest, their arms reaching out instinctively to steady you. You looked up to see the person you’ve fully embarrassed yourself in front of, your stomach twisted even harder when your gaze landed on him. Armin Arlert. The lanky, quiet best friend of Eren Yeager.
Now, just because you didn’t go to these parties, doesn’t mean you didn’t know who he was. Of course you did, his essays had been published over and over in the student papers, his academic status seemingly the complete opposite of his best friend. You actually found yourself a fan of his writing style, which made this interaction all the more gut wrenching.
“Shit, you okay?” He asked, his hands still wrapped around your biceps, his fingers so long the tips of them met with room to spare. You nodded and grasped at your nose, having felt something wet hit the palm of your hand. You already knew it was blood from the way you could feel your pulse throbbing between your nostrils.
“No yeah, I'm good. Sorry…” you rushed out. Your unsteady legs carried you over to the kitchen counter to grab a fistful of paper towels to press to your nose. He turned around to watch you, his eyes widening in a panic as he saw the red drip down your wrist. He rushed over and grabbed a few paper towels himself, dabbing the blood trailing down onto your forearm. His movements were so gentle you could barely feel them, his voice earnest and clearly concerned. “Holy shit, no you’re not….fuck—did I break your nose?”
You shook your head quickly, still applying pressure with the paper towels. Your voice coming out muffled and nasally and deeply embarrassed. “No, no. I don't think so…seriously, it's fine.”
He continued to dab and wipe at the remnants of blood on your arm, letting out a troubled huff at your words and gently shaking his head in protest. He glanced down the hallway attached to the kitchen for a moment, and then returned his gaze to you, his pupils so dilated you could barely see the pale blue that sat there. He placed one of his hands on the small of your back, sweeping you gently towards the hallway. You could feel his fingers trembling.
“Here, at least let me help you fix this. I think we might have something in the bathroom that will help….maybe…” he said anxiously, using his body as some kind of shield as you weaved your way through the people that walked freely through the house as if it were their own.
The two of you made your way to the bathroom. You sat on the closed seat of the toilet, still clutching the now red stained paper towels to your nose firmly as he closed the bathroom door behind him. Your shoulders dropped a little at the way the loud music became significantly muffled, the loudest sound in the room became Armin frantically rummaging through the medicine cabinet above the sink. “Tilt your head up…” he said softly as he grabbed an instant ice pack from the cabinet, his eyes flooded with unease as he hesitantly pattered over to you.
You tilted your head up, grimacing at the feeling of clotted blood sliding down the back of your throat. Armin took the cold pack in his hands, cracking it swiftly for the chemical reaction to take effect. Despite your mind having been quite preoccupied with the burning ache of your nose, you still couldn’t help but notice the way the tendons in his hand flexed when he cracked the ice pack. You cursed yourself for being even the slightest bit perverted while he’s damn near having an anxiety attack.
The ice pack soon began to freeze, and Armin placed it gently on the bridge of your nose, the soothing sensation dulling the burning pulse. “Keep that there with your head tilted up, try and pinch it in place.” He said quickly before he turned around to grab you a wad of clean toilet paper to replace your dampening handful of paper towel.
You couldn’t even speak, too horrified by your own fuck up. You just nodded silently, pinching the ice pack against the bridge of your nose. Armin handed you the toilet paper and you brought it to your bleeding nostrils, tossing the old paper towel into the trash can next to the toilet.
Armin sat down on the edge of the bathtub next to the toilet, his long legs made his knees come up to his chest from sitting so low to the ground. He ran a hand through his well kept hair, dropping his forehead to his palm. “Leave it to me to break someone’s nose without even trying…” he said softly, a self-deprecating tone laced in his words.
You continued to hold the ice pack to your bridge, your head tilted upwards so you’re not able to make eye contact with him as you spoke. Not that you’d’ve been able to anyways. “I seriously don’t think it's broken, the ice pack is helping.” You breathed out. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye and watched the way his shoulders visibly relaxed at your reassurance. “Good, good. I’m really sorry.” He muttered quietly, his voice forced itself into a kind tone despite the inefficiency he felt humming in his chest.
You shook your head as much as you could with the ice pack still pressed to your bridge. “It’s not your fault, i was the one who ran into you at full speed like a fucking lunatic.”
Armin let out a breath of a laugh, shaking his head back softly in protest. “I mean you were clearly on a mission, it's my fault for standing there.” He said with the slightest curl of a smile forming. You let out a nasally giggle back, cringing at the way you feel a small gush of blood come out of your left nostril. You tried to think of something lighthearted to say to ease the stress that pooled in the air, but Armin spoke up again. “I’m uh… I’m Armin. I don't think I’ve ever seen you here before…”
You nodded your head softly, leaning your head forward a little bit now to get the last drops of blood out of your nose, the bleeding subsiding. “Yeah, I know.” You spit out, rebuking yourself for sounding so eager.
You prayed that he took it as you acknowledging the way he’s never seen you instead of you admitting you knew his name already. “I um, yeah I’ve never been here before. My friends were invited and kinda insisted I tag along…” you said in an attempt to recover, trying to make your tone more nonchalant.
Armin's eyes widened as you spoke. “Oh, were you looking for them? Should we go try and find them for you?” He asked, genuine concern in his tone. You quickly shook your head, waving your hand lazily in protest. You desperately tried to ignore the way your stomach warmed simply from him saying ‘we’. God, you seriously cannot be this down and out.
“No, no. I mean, I don't know where they are…but I wasn’t looking for them, I'm sure they’re making themselves at home.” You began, a huff escaping you at the end. “I was actually trying to get into the kitchen to get some air. Crowded parties aren't necessarily my thing, if you couldn’t tell…” You said jokingly, motioning your hands over yourself in the state you were in. Armin let out a friendly chuckle, nodding his head in agreement. “I feel that, I don’t think I’d go to these things if they weren't in my literal house—how’s your nose?” He cut himself off to ask.
You took the ice pack off of your nose and set it on the edge of the sink. The wad of toilet paper he’d handed you was barely stained in comparison to the paper towels you’d had previously. The ache in between your eyes had seemed to subside for the most part, your head finding its way back to its resting state.
You blinked a few times, wiggling your face a little to see if there’s any pain. That elicited a snort from Armin, a nauseously sweet smile creeping onto his face. “It’s fine….I think. Definitely the most interesting thing that’ll happen to me tonight, that's for sure. Maybe even the most interesting thing to happen during this party as a whole. ”
Armin let out a humorous groan as he stretched his arms above his head. The way he was sitting on the edge of the bathtub was undoubtedly straining his back. “They’re so boring, aren’t they? I mean, it's just the same shit over and over. The same songs every time, same drinks, same people hooking up in the same corners.” He said with undisputed authenticity, an intrigued smile flashing on your face for a moment.
You let out a hum of understanding, leaning back slightly against the back of the toilet. You were unable to help the way your thoughts started to spill out of you. “I know right? I read this one book a few years back, and it made the mundane cycles of human life almost painfully obvious..the way we all tend to relive the same moments over and over again…”
Armin sat and watched you speak, his eyes flashed with excitement when he realized that you must be well read. He noticed the way your throat bobbed when you’d pause mid sentence, the way you spoke with real intention and poise. He soaked in every word, digesting them like the most comforting of meals, tasting your sincerity on his own tongue.
After a while, you realized that you’d been basically vomiting your opinions of the human experience all over someone who just wanted to help you with a bloody nose. An insecure twinge budded in between your ribs, making you look around the bathroom for anything to exchange small talk about instead. Armin wasn’t interested in that in the slightest, your eloquently spoken words oozed with merit, the depth of the conversation felt almost sacred to him.
Like you, he didn’t experience conversations like this often. I mean, he lived in a frat house for fucks sake. The deepest conversation he’d get here is an argument over what liquor is the easiest to drink copious amounts of without ending your night in a hospital, or community bitching about a certain professor's excruciating deadlines.
Your gaze was snapped back to him when he began to speak, reflecting the same passion you had in your tone back to you. The most full-hearted of smiles present when he did. “No you’re so right, it does change something in you once you see it. I’m just…I hope I don't come across offensive when I say this, but I wasn’t expecting that. I can’t say that I’ve ever had a conversation at any of these parties that was anything below surface level, it's…..nice. Nice to feel like someone else is speaking a language that I actually understand.”
Your gaze shifted to the way he used his hands to speak alongside his voice, the clear zeal he felt while talking about his interests made your eyes brighten at him. The somewhat stiff and jittery conversation quickly transformed into something thoroughly fruitful, despite it taking place under the eerily flickering light of the shivery bathroom. Your voices colliding made the space warm and inviting nonetheless.
You talked about psychology, poetry, fiction, beaming at each other over your shared interests. The conversation flowed so organically that you completely forgot why you even came to the bathroom to begin with, the barely there throb of your nose not even beginning to cross your mind. It’d been very congenial thus far, Armin was far too scared to ruin the depth he felt by attempting to flirt with you poorly. Although, he did want to. Very badly, actually.
Your ability to remain completely open-minded, the syrupy warmth you have when you laugh. The way you began to reflect his own thoughts back to him before he even got to speak them himself. All of these being things he found painfully attractive. He found himself having to rip his gaze from your bottom lip while you were pondering a question he’d ask, not wanting to seem too forward by keeping it there. He didn't want to be delusional, he didn't want to assume anything. But what he absolutely did want was to continue to talk to you in that bathroom for as long as you’d allow him to, that he knew very clearly.
And it's not like the attraction was one-sided. No, not at all. You found yourself drawn deep into the way he spoke, the attention to detail he had when describing something. His words breathed life into every topic. He was clearly deeply intelligent, but mind blowingly humble at the same time. Not a single word rolling off of his tongue with pompous intention. You felt your stomach pool with a sort of dramatic nervousness when he would lean his chin on his hand while you spoke, his thumb toying under his bottom lip while he drank your words in completely.
You couldn’t help but wonder if the way you felt glued to your seat was reciprocated, if his fingers twitched at the thought of running them against the skin of your knuckles like yours did for him.
You felt crazy for wondering those things since you’d only just met him tonight. You told yourself that you clearly have been reading far too many romance novels, that those fictional scenes were fictional for a reason. Despite the doubt, you didn't try to ignore the magnetism you felt. You let your bones hum from him moving any part of himself even slightly closer to you. You knew the feeling would be fleeting anyways, you weren’t gonna ruin the blip of time where it’s present just to forsake yourself.
The two of you tumbled between topics for what felt like brief hours, the essay he had recently published in the newspaper being one of them. You had to pretend that you hadn’t already read it, your eyebrows raising a little as a facade when he’d explained it to you. “That must’ve taken you a long time, no? I know if it were me I'd have a million rough drafts before I trusted my abilities enough to actually publish anything.”
Armin let out a heavy chuckle, shaking his head as if in disbelief. “You wanna see something crazy?”
His question was met with your quickly nodding head and he swiftly stood up from the edge of the bathtub, stretching his legs out a little. He waved his hand towards himself, motioning for you to follow him. Excitement pooled in your gut as you stood up from your spot in the bathroom that the two of you had made into some kind of absurd sanctuary over the past two hours. You followed him as he walked deeper down the length of the hallway, grabbing the knob of the very last door on the right and turning it.
You walked into the room that you quickly realized was his bedroom, a schoolgirl-esque giddiness arose in you at the mere thought of being there. You quickly scanned the room, noticing the way his bed was neatly made. A plethora of soft blankets laid out across the comforter in a way that made the bed look just as inviting as he seemed to be. Your eyes flickered to the bookshelf that leaned up against the wall next to the desk in the corner, the shelves of it blooming with literature. The only light in the room comes from a large overhead lamp. It stood over his desk that was littered with piles and piles of copy paper printed top to bottom with various sized paragraphs. Each stack stood at least an inch thick, some even double that. Armin let out a breathy chuff as he pointed at the papers all over the desk. “Those are all of my rough drafts. Every last paper on that desk is me trying to prepare for that essay.”
You walked over to the desk and ran your thumb up the side of one of the stacks, the sound of the papers fluttering against each lasting for at least 10 full seconds. Your chest warmed at the visual representation of his dedication, though his passion was clear even before. Armin walked over to the end of his bed and plopped down, a sigh escaping him as he landed. He watched you examine his room, noticing how your eyes almost glowed when you ran your forefinger over the spines of his books that sat neatly on his shelf.
You had recognized a good chunk of the titles, although he was unfortunately missing the borderline pornographic fantasy books that ran rampant on your shelf at home. You wondered to yourself if he had any romance novels hidden under his bed like the average man's playboy magazine, the idea made you giggle under your breath.
“What’s the laugh about? Is my collection not impressive enough for you?” He teased, his fingers tapping nervously at his knees as he watched you walk around his room like you should’ve always been there. You shook your head as you turned around to face him, not making direct eye contact but still noticing the way his eyes trailed even your smallest of movements. “It’s very impressive, actually…” you said honestly, a candied smile on your lips.
You walked over to the edge of the bed and sat down next to him, leaving an arms length of space between the two of you so you didn’t come off presuming. You let out a deep sigh, closing your eyes and letting the cozy silence of his room soothe you into the ease you’d been craving since the moment you stepped foot in the house. “Why would someone ever pick that over this…” you said softly as you nodded your head once towards the door, referencing the party that began to thump down the hallway. Armin cocked a brow, smiling boyishly at you. “What’s this?”
You let out a breathy chuckle, keeping your eyes closed as you spoke. “Silence….ease. Meaningful conversation that doesn’t have any destination.” You began, subconsciously leaning back and laying your spine flat against the plush of his blanket covered mattress. Your eyes remained closed as you continued to talk, the loss of the sense making it easier to speak in the way you’d wanted to. “I mean, don't get me wrong… I enjoy getting drunk as much as the next college student. I’d never frown upon anyone who really loves the energy out there, I'm sure it brings the right people a sense of community almost…”. A deep breath.
“All anyone wants at the end of the day is to be seen without reprimand, to be accepted down to their bones. If dancing your heart out next to someone you’ll maybe never see again makes them feel that, having that glimpse of each other's most raw forms… then all the power to you.”
Armin gazed at you in an almost awe-like state as you spoke, eyeing the way your hair pooled effortlessly around you as you laid back onto his bed. He found himself physically having to sit on his hand to keep himself from reaching out and running his fingers through it. Your honeyed voice thrummed through the realest parts of him. He was completely unable to tear his eyes away from the soft swells of your cheeks or the long lines of your neck, his eyes glimmered as they drank in your presence. He cursed himself for having such a beautiful breath of a woman in his bed but still being too self-loathing to do anything about it. He hummed in understanding as he laid back against the bed next to you, still an arms length apart.
“I think that’s a pretty beautiful observation to make…you’re— um, you’re very well spoken. I'll have to consult with you for my next essay instead of creating another shit show like whatever that is” he choked out as he aimlessly pointed towards his desk.
He’d hoped cracking a joke would lead you away from the way he’d almost said something that could possibly make you uncomfortable. You were none the wiser, your eyes finally fluttered open as you turned your head to look at him. “You got it.”
He had to wipe his hands on his sweatpants to get rid of the film of sweat that grew there the moment you peeked out at him under the curls of your lashes.
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Two weeks have passed since that night, and you hate how it seemed to always present itself in the forefront of your mind. Armin’s soft gaze and the way his words reflected your inner monologue when he spoke hung heavy in you, just around every corner. You felt completely delusional, the way the night had ended made you sure of your former idea of it just being a fleeting moment. He didn't kiss you, or ask for your number, nothing of the sort was even mentioned.
You two had spent the entire night talking, laughing, spilling your guts out to each other and not thinking twice about how strange it was to do that with someone you had just met. It was unlike anything you’d ever experienced. You remember having to leave abruptly when you noticed the sun rising beyond his curtained windows, neither of you noticing how the bass had stopped humming between the floorboards of the house a few hours prior, or how heavy your lids hung over your eyes as the time went on.
You had spent the past two weeks dissecting every part of the conversation that you could remember, scrounging for some reason that would lead you to believe he felt the same pull you did. He had taken over, staking his claim during the night and causing you to clench your thighs together when you’d remember the way the soft features of his face looked as he laughed. You felt perverted and overly crass, sure that you’d never be able to show your face to him ever again after the countless fantasies you’d had.
You had imagined what his lips would look like covered in you, what his fingers would surely be able to accomplish due to the length of them. You wondered if he was a passionate lover, slow and deliberate. Or was he the opposite, grabby and rushed to touch you in as many places as he could like a man starved. It didn’t matter what type he really was, you’d imagined him in every possible way already. No version of him could be a shock to you.
And despite the embarrassment that swallowed you whole when you actually imagined seeing him face to face again, you found yourself walking into the house he shared with his fraternity brothers anyways.
Your friends had received another invite to Eren’s next party, the invite being extended to you this time even though you and Eren had never met. You had told yourself that if you did see him, you’d just put an end to the warm torture he’d instilled upon you. You’d be unable to embarrass yourself any further at that point. If you didn’t see him, your plan b was to get as drunk as you could off of drinks that you didn't pay for to try and dull the thoughts of him, even a little would be enough.
You and your friends entered the party and began to mingle, the heavy blow of thickened air choking you already. You scanned the room over and over again for a glimpse of him, a deep twinge in your gut every time you came up short.
You quickly made your way to the kitchen, pouring an obscene amount of vodka into a cheap plastic cup and mindlessly splashing some orange juice in it like it'd even out somehow. It felt like your actions were coming before your thoughts, uncontrollable and erratic in a way that made you unrecognizable to yourself.
You were always in control, always centered. That night with Armin threw you completely off kilter. You knew you were acting out of pocket. You really didn’t care. You just needed some relief.
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Armin’s POV:
Armin let out a choked groan, cum ribboning into the air as his hips jutted forward desperately into his own wanting hand. He rested his forehead against the cold tile wall of the shower, his breathing rapid and his legs trembling in aftershock. All it took was a very small handful of thoughts about you in this exact bathroom two weeks ago to unravel him completely.
He physically could not get you out of his mind since he’d met you. The way you said his name, the shine of your hair as it splayed over his bed when you laid on it. The way you’d looked at him that night as if you saw the rawest parts of him. He couldn’t help himself, despite how disrespectful and deeply disappointed in himself he felt about jerking off to the thought of a woman he’d met only once.
And this wasn’t the first instance, no no. He found himself crumpling paper after paper into his trashcan when he would sit down at his desk, the only thing written on any of them being some type of saccharine fifth grade love letter to you. He’d wind up with nothing to show for the hours he’d spent sitting there other than a painful boner suffocating itself in his pants.
His first waking thought was you, the way you walked around his room like some kind of enchantress, your movements slow and enticing. He’d rub the sleep out of his eyes with his dick pressed firm against his stomach, his slender hand reaching down to relieve himself with the image of your head bobbing on him whirling recklessly in his mind.
He really felt like he was going insane, to be honest. Sure, he was a normal human with urges like anyone else. But this was different. He had never, never behaved like this before. You had completely captivated him.
And it wasn't just some creepy sexual obsession, his thoughts seemed to find a way to reel back to you in everything he did. Every mindless conversation he had with a peer or coworker, he’d imagine how much better it would be if you were a part of it. He doesn’t ever remember being able to hold a conversation with anyone for even an hour without finding himself wanting to retreat to solitary, but he felt like the many hours that the two of you shared talking wasn't nearly enough. He would’ve stayed there on that bed until the room surrounding the two of you dissolved back into the earth, and even then he would probably still have another question to ask.
You ripped past barriers in him in one night that took his closest friends years. And yet, he still didn't even muster up the courage to ask you for your number. He had explained his darkest days to you, and what scents made him the most nostalgic, but asking for your number would surely be too much.
When Eren mentioned throwing another party this weekend, Armin had asked to put you and your friends on the invite list again. Doing so obviously elicited a wild smirk and rushing fist bumps from him, which Armin hated. He’d play into the douchey frat antics as much as he needed to if it meant you’d show up again.
He finished getting ready, listening to the party begin to swell through the house as he combed his fingers through his hair over and over again, as if you’d notice a stray hair out of place and run away. He knew getting an invite to you had the chance of being a lost cause due to your disinterest in parties, but he’d hoped that your friends would drag you here again, that they would bring you back to him.
He walked out of his room and down the long hallway, the beat of the nauseatingly familiar song (that would surely play at least six more times tonight) getting louder with each step. He made his way out to the kitchen, eyes gazing over the ever growing crowd of people to find you. He bit anxiously at his cheek when he toyed with the idea of you not showing up. He almost turned on his heels to go back to his room when he saw a blink of you, gone just as fast as you appeared.
He tried to trail your movements, walking deeper into the kitchen and leaning against the counter to get a better look. He started to actually believe he’d gone insane, there’s no way he’s beginning to hallucinate your presence now. He scoffed at himself under his breath, in disbelief that he was so desperate to see you that he resorted to playing pretend.
But then, his eyes snapped to your familiar form. Your smile hesitant but there nonetheless. He squinted his eyes slightly to get a better look at you, his jaw instinctively tightening when he saw the man standing behind you. Jean Kirstein. One of his fellow frat brothers, with his arm drunkenly slung over your shoulder, his mouth inches away from your ear. Armin despised the way his teeth grinded and the way his eyebrows lowered at the sight, jealousy not being a feeling he’s necessarily used to. Regardless of whether it's a familiar feeling or not, he found it crawling its way into every rift of him as he watched you from across the house.
He watched the way your smile waivered, your movements looking a little too loose to be those of a sober person. When his gaze landed on Jean’s hand placed strategically on your hip, he felt his nostrils flare and his heartbeat thrash wildly in his chest. He thought about approaching you, saying something or maybe just grabbing you and whisking you away from Jean. But he couldn’t. His feet were unmoving and cowardly, self-contempt bubbling deep in his stomach.
Armin turned to grab a bottle of whiskey from the counter, pouring himself a shot and throwing it back hastily, grimacing at the burn that slid down his throat and landed hard in his chest. He’s decided that he’s just going to take the whole bottle back to his room, drink himself into a slumber so deep he’ll hopefully wake up tomorrow with no recollection of tonight as a whole.
He grabbed the neck of the bottle and turned back to walk down to his room, his grip on it loosened as he glanced back at the sea of bodies and realized you aren’t where you were just moments ago… neither is Jean.
He let out a disappointed huff, his footsteps heavy against the hard wood of the hallway. You deserved someone who wasn't so cowardly, he can’t even fault you for choosing Jean. He oozed a certain kind of confidence that Armin couldn’t even fathom, his tone always charming and smooth. Armin opened the door to his bedroom, and his self-deprecating tantrum was cut short when he saw you sitting on the ground next to the foot of his bed, your head buried into your knees.
“Y/n?”
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Your pulse rose into your throat when you felt Jean’s sweaty hand find its way to your hip. He rested it there as if he was claiming his territory like some kind of pissing dog. You had clearly drank too much, you would’ve never gotten yourself into this miserable position if you hadn’t.
To your credit though, the drinking had made Armin’s silhouette stop flashing behind your eyes every time you’d blink. You were thankful for that, you were beginning to seriously concern yourself with the grasp he had on you.
You tried your hardest to sway your hips to the music, but your movements just came out forced and rigid no matter how fluid the liquor made you feel. You felt lost, stranded, and also on the verge of projectile vomiting. Whether it was from the alcohol or the way Jeans thumb started to rub small circles on your hip, it didn't matter. You needed to find a way out.
Jean's head leaned into the crook of your neck, his breath torrid and sticky against your ear as he spoke. The scent of his damp, sweat slicked hair wafted into your nostrils. You were absolutely sure you were going to puke now.
He said something about letting him take you home, you couldn’t really make out exactly what he was saying. Your hearing was deafened from the music blasting through the speaker on your other side. You also didn’t care enough to know exactly what was said, too focused on how your vision warped in a way that felt like your head was stuck on sideways.
You forced out a compliant smile, your eyes void of anything at all. You leaned in to tell him that you had to go to the bathroom, the smell of his plasticy cologne glueing your nose shut. He said something about coming with you, but you were gone from his line of vision before the sentence could be finished.
The tile of the kitchen swirled and pulsed as you practically sprinted over it. You drunkenly bounced your shoulder off of someone’s back as you started for the hallway, too confused to even be able to apologize. You grabbed at the door handle, missing it completely on your first try. The door shut behind you and you sank to the floor as soon as the noise became distant and stifled, closing your eyes and tucking your forehead to your knees.
You didn’t know how long you stayed like that, the concept of time becoming far too complex to even begin to think about. But what wasn't complex was sloshing around in your inebriated mind, fast and loose. You had been acting so fucking stupid. One night with someone you’d enjoyed your time with and all the sudden you're acting like a ludicrous middle schooler.
Except, it wasn't just that. It never was. It was something you couldn’t explain, couldn't understand no matter how many times you replayed it in your head. The way you’d felt that night with Armin was absorbing in every way. You felt so fucking stupid.
A soft voice ripped you away from your conviction, your head heavy as you hesitantly lifted it from your knees.
“Y/n?”
You were sure you’d croak any second now, the feeling in your body indescribable. The lights were off and the cold flatness of the ground beneath you had felt like it made sense enough to be the bathroom that you’d wanted to find. The light that spilled in through the newly opened door made you realize you were absolutely not in the room that you thought. You flickered your gaze between the edge of the bed next to you and the desk that was still littered with papers, a lot of them crumpled now.
You finished with your eyes landing on the silhouette of Armin standing in the doorway, the light of the hallway behind him made the edges of him glow like some kind of heavenly liberator.
Your mouth went dry as he gently shut the door behind him. He hurriedly switched on the lamp above the desk and crouched down next to you, his expression clear with concern. “Are you okay? How’d you get in here?”
The ability to speak was amnestic, your voice coming out babbled and lost. “I don’t know…I thought I was in the bathroom. I— god, I’m sorry.”
You found your way to your feet, your legs wobbly and your head sharply throbbing from the change in pressure. You were sure that the embarrassment you’d subjected yourself to tonight would replace any fleeting fantasies that arose in the future. And you were certain he’d hope to never see you again after this.
As you began to stumble your way out of his room, Armin's lanky arm shot out in front of you. He held you steady with his hands in a very similar way to your first interaction. You felt the edge of the bed press against the back of your calves and you uncontrollably dropped down onto the plush mattress once again. The contrast between this moment and the last time you’d sat on his bed like this made you want to claw at your chest.
“Just… let me at least get you some water or something. Jesus, how much did you drink?” He said, his tone still able to remain kind in its bones somehow. The way he felt the need to help you regardless of the way you invaded his personal space made you want to bang your forehead into your fists. Your drunken stupor didn’t erase his humility. Of course it didn’t.
Armin reached into the small fridge that sat behind his desk, a handful of water bottles in it as well as the premade iced coffees he’d drink to get him through the copious late nights he’d spend dumping his mind onto paper. He grabbed one of the waters and walked over to hand it to you.
You reached out weakly to grab it. The cap twisted off and your sip slowly turned into a chug as you felt the coolness of it wash down your throat, soothing the burn you felt in every corner of yourself. Your voice came out a timid jumble, your words slurring together slightly. “I don't know… a lot. Way too much, obviously.” You paused to take another drink. “I was trying to uh… get away from that guy—“
”Jean.”
“Sure, I don't remember.” You answered defeatedly, not even questioning why Armin knew who you were referring to. He sat next to you on the bed in the same way he did two weeks ago, the same arms length between the two of you. “He said something about coming home with him or whatever so I just dipped. I seriously thought I was in the bathroom…” you admitted, still trying to rack your brain and figure out how you made such a severe misjudgment.
”I’m glad you're not…”
His words come out so quiet that you're not sure what he just said. “Huh?”
Armin cleared his throat, fixing his posture so he sat up a little taller next to your crumpled form. “I— uh… said that sounds about right.” he stuttered out before he continued. “Jean is kinda…forward, I guess. I’m sorry if he made you uncomfortable.”
He felt the need to apologize for his fraternity brother’s behavior, despite the way he would prefer to never bring him up again in front of you. You wave your hand lazily towards him, brushing off the apology.
“It’s not your fault, you apologize too much.” You spit out, your inhibition making you speak before your conscience even has a chance to stop you. Armin lets out a struggled chuff, his shoulders dropping a little in defeat. You’re right, he did apologize too much. Of course you saw that.
“He wasn’t being overly creepy or anything anyways… I just wasn't interested.” You continued, Armin's eyes sparking with something you couldn’t quite place.
”Why not?” He asked. His question came out casual enough, a facade of mindless curiosity. You shrugged your shoulders, a nervous giggle as you speak. “Just not my type I guess.”
Armin felt like he was going to explode. His heart lurched when he saw you sat on his floor, disoriented and filled with guilt. All he wanted was to see you again tonight, to feel your presence. Now that he had it, he felt like he was gonna be sick. His stomach dipped with every different expression you flashed at him. His legs physically ached from how badly he wanted to brush his knee up against yours. Why would you dance with Jean if he wasn't your type? He continues to beat the horse that’s been dead for at least a week now, wondering if you felt the same urge he did.
He can’t keep you here for hours again and not say anything about the thing he felt shattering every bone. You're drunk. His shame had layers now.
Armin chuckled under his breath. He’s the first one to lay back on the bed this time, feeling as though he might pass out if he stayed upright. He lets his toes bounce lightly against the floor, the back of his calves moving against the flat edge of the bed. “So what’s your type then?”
You felt every ounce of blood in your body seem to still from his question. As much as you tried not to, you couldn’t help but read into it front to back. You’d begun to fiddle with the loose threads of the blanket you sit on. Eye contact wasn’t even in the question. Shock began to sober you a little, your easy answers slipping away. ”What do you mean?”
Maybe the clueless drunk girl thing will work. You knew he was too insightful for it to work.
“Well… I don't know. Jean’s an attractive guy. He’s decently popular with women so he must be funny and nice enough to talk to.” Armin's hands rested intertwined on his chest, his thumbs circling each other.
”True… there’s just something missing.” You said as you thought through the maze that presented itself when you tried to think of the right thing to say without exposing yourself too much.
Armin shifted a little. His teeth picked and bit at his cheek and he tasted metal. He could feel his heart thumping in between his shoulder blades. “What’s missing?”
You let out a sigh as you laid back messily onto the bed, your body language beginning to show the bits of frustration that brewed in you. You assumed this is just one of his genuine curiosities, him wanting to know for his own archives of the human mind. You wanted him to let it go and pick something else so you could take a full breath.
”Does that really matter?”
”If it didn't you would’ve gone home with him.”
“I wouldn’t have.”
“Why not?”
“Because… he’s not who I want to go home with.” You felt like you were going to choke. Armin shifted again, turning onto his side. His eyes were on you and you knew it without looking to check. You were choking.
“So there was someone you wanted to go home with?” Armin didn’t even know what he was saying. He was trying to test the waters in his own beat around the bush way. He wanted you to say something that he could bend into perceived rejection, but each answer of yours seemed to confuse him further.
“I didn't say that.”
“So what were you trying to say then?”
You shifted yourself to face him, both of you laying on your sides on the bed. His elbow was propped up so he can hold himself up, you mirrored him. You felt like you were going insane.
His eyes flashed and whirled with something you couldn’t place, his tone was almost painful. You felt like he was holding something back, but the way his eyes and his words seemed to clash made you want to scream into the mattress and kick like a child.
You told yourself that if you did see him again tonight, you were one hundred percent going to say something. You were going to end the borderline obsession you’d formed one way or another. Yet here you were, face to face with the man you’d spent the last two weeks ogling over, and you’re dodging and ducking. ”What are you trying to say?”
Armin felt a ball of apprehension in the back of his throat, swallowing hard to try and get it down. He was at his breaking point, a place he can't say he’d ever been before in this context. Uncharted territory. As the two of you went back and forth, his eyes darted down the side of your body. Saliva began pooling on the back of his tongue when he got sight of the way your body curved, the way your hips rounded so perfectly. Fuck.
He let out a strangled sigh as he spoke, his eyes staring at the wall behind you to avoid your reaction. “Would you have let Jean kiss you if he tried?”
You paused for a moment so you didn’t scream. You let out a broken laugh instead. “No.”
Armin's next words came out so quiet like he’s trying to find his voice, but like he would die if he didn't say them. “Would you let me kiss you if I tried?”
A beat of silence fell between the foot of space between you and him, the foot of space that turned into six inches without either of you noticing. You felt like you needed to pinch yourself. Maybe this is just another one of his charged questions, or some kind of sick joke.
When your eyes snapped to his, you realized it was neither. He’s serious. His lids hung slightly lower, his brows slanted. You felt the tips of your toes start to tingle, your tongue subconsciously coming out to wet your bottom lip. Your voice came out more like a breath, just barely there. “Yes.”
That’s all it took for Armin to close the space between the two of you. You blink once and his forehead is pressed to yours, his hand cupping your face like you’re holy to him. His fingers splayed over your cheek, his thumb tracing your jaw over and over again. His words came out on a shaky breath, like he is using every ounce of his self control. “You have no idea how beautiful you look right now…”
“I’m half drunk…”
“You’re so fucking beautiful.”
The minuscule gap was closed as he pressed his lips to yours. His lips were indescribably plush and so, so warm. He kissed you almost hesitantly at first, not daring to move his lips or press them harder into yours. Once he felt you move your mouth against his that all went out the window, any shred of self control he had left vanished without a second thought.
He kissed you like he was starving, like your lips on his was the only thing keeping him alive. His fingertips curled around the beginning of your jaw just below your ear, tugging your mouth into his like he wanted to consume you. He swallowed a groan when he felt you sigh into his mouth, brushing his tongue against your bottom lip to see if you’ll take. You swiftly parted your lips to let him explore you deeper without hesitation.
And explore he did. His other hand came down to the belt loops of your jeans, sliding his fingers in them and tugging you flush to him with ease. His tongue brushed back and forth against yours, hands came to tangle in each other's hair. The way the two of you kissed was sanctified, like you had been wasting your time by spending it doing anything other than tasting each other.
You felt the clothed ridge of his dick press against your hip and you couldn’t help the way you squeezed your thighs together, your body already demanding some kind of friction.
He broke from the kiss, his lips swollen and flushed. His eyes pleaded as he spoke. “Tell me you’ll remember this tomorrow…that you’ve been thinking about this like I have, please.”
You let out a strangled chuckle, dropping your forehead to his shoulder. If only he knew. You began to leave a wet trail of kisses up his throat, sloppy and half-hazard in between your words. “…I’ve thinking about this since we met.”
A kiss.
“thinking about you…”
Another.
“I haven’t been able to get away from you, you're everywhere..”
Armin let out a sharp groan at your words, his hand grabbing for your face to pull you back up to his lips. He kissed you like he wanted to swallow you whole, like he'd been fantasizing about this just as relentlessly as you have the past two weeks.
“Fuck…you’ve made me lose my mind since that night. All I can think about is you.” He breathed out against your mouth, the confirmation made you exhale shakily as you felt anything that's not you and him in his bed completely disappear. Your leg hooked around the side of him and you pressed your body weight against him so he’d roll onto his back.
You barely had to force. Armin’s mouth went slightly agape as he watched you sit on top of him, his eyes deepening in a way that could hypnotize you if you let them. The weight of you on his lap was enough to make him twitch, but the way the soft lines of your curves pooled and dipped sent his brain into overdrive.
He grasped and clutched at your hips as you brought your mouth back down to his, a sharp exhale leaving him when you instinctively rolled your hips forward. Just once. Not enough but far too much.
“Y/n… you don't have to do… we can take things slow if you want. I don't want you to feel— oh fuck.” He began, but was quickly cut off by how you drew your tongue up the side of his neck, teeth dragging against the skin right below his pulse point. His shaky hands slid up your hips and landed just below your ribs, his fingertips curling around the bottom hem of your shirt.
“Do you want to take things slower?” You breathed into his ear, his head shaking rapidly in response. He was unable to get the words ‘fuck no’ out fast enough. “Good. Me neither.” You giggled as you grabbed his wrists and slid the palms of his hands under your shirt. His hands splayed over the skin of your stomach, wanting to cover as much surface area as he could.
He continued to slide his hands up further, studying you with an undying precision. He had imagined you like this so many times, and even the best of it didn't come close to the way you felt in his hands.
He began trailing them over the lace that covered the swells of your breasts. He brushed his thumb against your nipple over the thin mesh of your bra, grinning when he heard you let out a stifled whine into his mouth. His other hand went back down to tug and grip at the bottom of your shirt, his voice desperate and gravelly. “Take this off. Please, baby.”
The pet name had you complying immediately, sliding the shirt off with ease and tossing it across the room. His eyes darkened as he drank you in, his hands trailing up and down your bare skin as if he'd never seen anything this perfect.
He started to sit up, holding you against him as he shifted the two of you to the head of the bed, leaning his back against the headboard. You settled on top of his lap again and he grabbed at your ass like a rabid animal. His lips started to attack your neck, his kisses there being irreverent and famished.
You ground your hips down onto him again when you felt him trail his mouth down to your collarbones, and then to the pudge of your breasts that dared to spill over the edge of your bra. He let out a hiss against your skin, biting and sucking so a mark would be left there. He needed you to have a reminder of this that you’d see even if he escaped your mind. He needed you to remember him.
You started to wiggle against his lap as he stuck his tongue out to soothe the bruised skin. His hands came to grasp your hips, holding you still with unexpected strength. “Fucking hell, you gotta stop moving like that…” he mumbled into your soft skin. He wanted to worship you. He wasn’t going to let that be ruined by his own weakness.
You let out a breathy sound, the feeling of his fingertips pressing into your skin to keep your hips immobile made you yearn for something more. Armin kept his mouth on you the entire time his hand started to caress your stomach, landing low at the edge of your jeans. He fiddled with the buttons and looked up at you through ignited eyes, eliciting a gasp out of you as he toyed with the hem of your underwear.
“Wanna touch you some more before you make me cum in my pants…” he muttered out, low and sure. He touched you everywhere but where you needed him most. It was torture. It was so good.
He ran a single fingertip over your clothed core, groaning into your shoulder like a wounded animal when he felt how soaked you were. “Jesus Christ… you can't be real.”
Your hips bucked against his finger, your clit begging for something… anything. It was like he read your mind when he finally slid the crotch of your underwear to the side, taking that same finger and running it up your slit, collecting some of your slick and settling it on your swollen nub to rub painfully slow circles.
“Fuck, fuck Armin..” you moaned out, your hands reaching for his shoulders to steady yourself. Armin let out a stifled whimper at the sound of his name falling off your lips in such a perverted tone. He felt his dick pulse wildly in his pants, but his own release was the last thing on his mind.
He continued to work your clit with his finger, smiling against your skin when he felt you relax fully into his lap, every muscle in your body starting to become pliable. “Please, baby. Let me make you feel good…. let me take care of you in the way you deserve. God, you look so pretty. So fucking pretty.”
His muffled slew of words had you moaning profanities into the thick air around you, and he felt each one of them reverberate through his body and shoot straight to his crotch. He felt your heavy breaths on his skin, goosebumps trailing down his arms. He sped up his circles, watching the way you tilted your head back and rolled your hips into his palm.
The air was sucked out of his lungs every time he looked at you, it was almost painful how breathtaking you were. He was completely lost in you. You had him so deeply at your mercy, there wasn't anything he wouldn’t do if you asked for it.
A sharp gasp left you as he shifted his hand, using his thumb now to rub your clit while his middle finger toyed at your entrance. He tilted his head to look at you, his eyes dazed and on fire despite their cool hue. “Can I…?” He asked sweetly, so sweetly that you felt your chest swell. He was the kind of lover you’d hoped for most, devoted but deeply desperate. Once he felt the way your body responded to him, the only thing he thought about was how many different ways he could make you cum. His own pleasure was a distant afterthought.
You nodded furiously and a coy grin spread across his face. “I need you to tell me, y/n… need to hear you say it.” He teased as he dipped just the slightest bit of his fingertip into you. It took everything in him not to bury every last knuckle once he felt the tight band of muscle kiss his fingertip with a throb.
“God— please, baby. Need your fingers, don't you wanna feel me?” You pouted, your voice so erotic Armin thought he might die on the spot. He wasted no time, sliding his slender finger into you and cursing under his breath as he felt your walls immediately squeeze it.
“Hm— fuck, baby. You’re so tight… I’m gonna add another, okay?” He groaned, his question being met with a choked out ‘yes’ from you. He slid his ring finger into you to join his middle finger as his thumb continued to swirl around your clit. You whined into his neck, your body shuddering at the stretch.
You jutted your hips down onto his hand, and he took that as a green light. He started pumping his fingers in and out of you slowly, wanting to memorize the feel of you like this. He rolled his wrist against the inside seam of your jeans as he started fucking you faster with his fingers, looking down to see his hand stuffed desperately into your pants as you humped against it. He was done for.
Your face pressed up against his neck, drool threatening to leave your slightly agape mouth as he worked you out. His words were fucking filthy, his knack for writing showing even now.
“You feel so good… fuck— you have no idea how many times I’ve thought about making you moan like this.”
“I’m so fucking hooked on you, my god. Tell me what you want, I’ll do anything…”
”I can feel you squeezing, baby. You like it like this? I’ll give it to you over and over again.”
Your body hummed with rapture as he cooed his filth. Your mind was hazy, the only thing you could feel being his fingers working you out as if they were made for it. They started to nudge that spot deep inside of you that made spots appear in your vision. You choked out a moan, your voice wrecked and laced with pure bliss. “Shit— right there… don’t fucking stop.”
The way you demanded him made his chest flood with heat, his free hand coming up to toy with your nipple over the thin fabric of your bra. “I won't, baby. God, not when you sound like that… take this off, please.” He panted as he tugged at the underwire.
You reached your hands back behind you, your hips still grinding into his hand. You undid the clasp of your bra, your fingers trembling making it a little harder than it should’ve been. You let your bra slide down your arms and you tossed it aimlessly to the side.
Armin's eyes grew wide with desire at the sight of you. Topless, blissed out, bucking your hips to ride his hand. He let out a shaky whimper as he watched your tits bounce in his face. He grabbed one of your nipples between the thumb and forefinger of his free hand, rolling the sensitive bud.
“Oh god… baby I— shit. You’re gonna make me…” you cried out, the familiar bubble begging to swell deep in your stomach. Armin kept his movements steady, his voice dripping with desperation as he whispered into your ear. “Fuck, y/n. Let me make you cum… please. I need it. Need to know what you sound like when you cum, what you feel like…”
You sobbed out against him, a string of profanities falling from your lips. You felt yourself start to flutter around him, your eyes glued shut and your body thrumming with an indescribable pleasure. He lowered his head, using his free hand to hold your breast as he took your nipple into his mouth. You felt him swirl his tongue and bite down gently, and that sent you over the edge into oblivion.
You grabbed mindlessly at the hair at the base of his skull, tugging and letting out a ragged mewl. Your orgasm ripped through you like a bolt of lightning, all consuming and persistent. You shook wildly against him, and Armin's eyes were trailing your every movement. Every shiver felt sacred. Every moan made his dick spill a little more into his boxers.
His mouth found yours with fervor as he worked you down from your release, his kisses slow and tumultuous. The way you struggled to keep your mouth pressed to his made him want to drop to his knees. He wanted to make you cum so many times that he’d spoil the feeling for you for any lover after him.
You let out muffled cries into his mouth as he continued to pump his fingers slowly. He was still so greedy. He couldn't stop, his fingers would have to be ripped away from your pussy to make him stop.
You twitched harshly as his thumb brushed up against your overwhelmed clit. You croaked out a groan, grabbing his wrist to stop his movements as you collapsed into his lap, forehead falling to his chest. “B-baby… I c-can’t. Too much…”
Armin let out a stifled whine against your hair, but he reluctantly stopped his movements anyways. He was addicted to you, your smell, the feeling of your bare tits pressed up against him. He slid his fingers out of you and you shuddered from the loss.
He brought his fingers to his mouth with zero hesitation, sucking every last drop of you off of them. He let out a pathetic whine as the taste of you spread across his tongue, he would never get enough of you. “So perfect..” he muttered to himself as you finally began to catch your breath.
He shifted the both of you, holding your limp body against his like it was pure gold in his hands. He laid back and moved you to rest your head on his chest, his fingers tracing unrecognizable shapes onto your bare back. A few moments of bliss filled silence washed over the two of you before Armin broke it, his voice much mushier now. “…have you really been thinking about me too?”
You raised your head to look up at him, his eyes like a begging puppy. You let out a small giggle, your head falling back to his chest. “Armin, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. That's why I came here tonight in the first place.”
You felt his chest release, a deep exhale coming out of him like he was holding his breath that whole time. “I’m so glad you came tonight—“ he cuts off, bringing his hand up to his forehead and wincing when he realizes what he just said. “I mean, I’m glad you showed up. Yeah.”
You let out a stifled chuckle into his chest, him returning the favor as he continued. “Well I am glad you came too. You know, the other way. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my whole life and I’m really glad you felt safe enough to share that with me and… okay im just gonna shut up now.”
You laughed at how easily he got flustered, but you still rubbed small circles into his chest as reassurance. A way to say ‘I see you’ without any words. Your gaze shifted down to his crotch and the tent that remained firmly pitched in his pants. You reached to toy with the waistband, his hands quickly coming down to stop you.
You shot him a concerned look, his face turning a bright shade of crimson. His voice came out stuttered and slow. “You… don't have to do anything. This was about you anyways…”
Your brows lowered as you ran your palm over the hard ridge of his dick through his pants, his hips twitching and his legs shaking a little. He let out a choked sigh, his face turning impossibly redder. “I—fuck. I already uh…”
You cocked a brow, the confusion in your expression softening when you noticed the wet patch leaking through the fabric. Oh my god. You had made Armin Arlert cum in his pants. Without even touching him.
A wild smirk spread across your face as you looked back up at him, his hands covering his face as he let out a defeated laugh. “I told you it was the hottest thing I’d ever seen… I wasn't lying.”