Discover Top Posts Tagged with #nerd armin x reader

You Right! 𝜗᭪

"I got a man but I want you."

aot boys as the other man. ꒰ꗯ꒱ (part one)

✉ part two !

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂

CONTENT WARNINGS : SMUTTY, aot boys as #the other woman af, cheating, infidelity on a made up boyfriend of yours, no cheating on the boys tho or on you, unprotected sex, creampies, oral f!receiving, fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, mutual masturbation, phone sex, consensual photo taking during sex, inappropriate use of fruits (?), slight angst to smut in one of the scenarios, semi public sex, brief mirror sex, and slight jealous sex

TRIGGER WARNINGS : as stated above, this does involve a prominent theme of cheating and while its on a made up person, if it isn't your cup of tea and/or could be potentially triggering please do not read or engage. aditionally, reiner's scenario is lowkey angsty but has a good ending! the reader's bf is also a piece of shit in every scenario, no abuse is depicted other than neglect/insinuations of manipulation, besides that nothing else comes to mind, but pls lmk if i missed smth ! (also floch is mentioned as reader's bf in one of the scenarios but it's just to drive the plot im so sorry)

includes : eren, armin, jean, and reiner

word count : 6k

what's playing 🎧 : you right by doja cat

a/n : hiii okay so i know i didn’t include all the boys like i usually do but i accidentally went a liiiittle crazy with these scenarios and was worried that it got too long, so i just decided to make a part two for connie, levi and erwin! i hope you guys don’t mind and still enjoy this one >_<!!

nerd gone viral ( ˶°ㅁ°) !!

꩜ pairing: nerd!armin arlert x female reader

꩜ warnings: explicit content, language

꩜ word count: 3.7k

꩜ synopsis: a harmless campus interview turns your best friend into an overnight internet sensation—and suddenly, every thirsty TikTok comment feels like it’s whispering your secret.

☆ art cred: @/juvianism on instagram :3

“sugar, we're goin' down”

a college au feat. armin arlert

“a loaded god complex, cock it and pull it.”

wc: 7.2k

mdni

cw: recreational drug use (yknow me), umm greening out, reader is a loser sorry self indulgent, reader is fem + black coded, kys is used lightheartedly, reader is a perv, finger sucking, fingering,

starting track…

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

holy fuck, this bad.

like. really bad.

you should’ve just gone straight home like you planned. maybe grabbed some discount sushi from the place next door that always tastes faintly of fridge, taken a shower that was maybe a little too hot and a little too long, put on the new season of bridgerton you’re not even that invested in, not finished your coursework, and fallen asleep facedown with your laptop open next to your pillow.

but you can’t help yourself. you know that.

and eren definitely fucking knew that.

out of everyone who’s cycled through the store, the gap-year kids, the christmas temps, the mums picking up extra shifts, the summer temps, the guy who got fired for stealing phone chargers. eren yeager is easily one of your favourite coworkers.

he’s kinda like you, in a way.

underpaid overworked college student. unserious to a fault. hitting your vape in the stockroom while you’re both “checking if we have that item in stock.” always showing up ten minutes late and clocking out exactly on time even if there’s a fattass line to the register circling the store.

but you like eren. he’s a bit of you, yknow.

you get on stupidly well, same music, same humor, same mutual understanding that if he takes the trash out you’ll cover for him when he disappears for twenty minutes.

he’s cool.

but you’re rarely ever scheduled together. in fact, you haven’t seen him in like three weeks. so when you dragged yourself into the store that morning, only five minutes late, already dreading this fucking shift, and you see eren fucking yeager clocking in, and he's already grinning from ear to ear because you both have the same clock out time.

oh.

we’re so back.

and you, you and your energy drink for breakfast. you and you’re low blood sugar, and your empty bank account, and your pathological inability to decline bad ideas, you should’ve said no.

but you didn’t.

of course you didn't.

and now you’re in eren’s garden, cross-legged in a plastic chair that sinks slightly to one side, passing a joint back into the rotation, already stoned as fuck. the grass is a little too long. the air smells like weed and damp soil and whatever his next door neighbour is cooking.

you thought your tolerance was better than this.

clearly you overestimated yourself.

fuuuuck.

and this guy, connie?, yeah, that’s his name, one of eren’s roommates, has been talking your fucking ear off for what genuinely feels like a geological era. he’s crouched in front of you, elbows on his knees, hands moving while he talks, animated as hell, like he’s telling the funniest story ever recorded in human history.

it's like, you can hear his voice, i'm sure the whole block can hear his voice, but you have no fucking clue what he's actually saying.

it’s like sound through water. syllables bending. vowels stretching. you catch fragments — bro, and then, no way — but the meaning slides off your brain before it can stick.

you’re nodding anyway. because your mind feels like its about to slip right outta your ears, and your brain is screaming act normal act normal act normal.

and, ugh, mikasa is sitting to your left on the low brick ledge edging the patio, posture perfect even while faded, dark hair tucked behind one ear. she's insanely beautiful, it makes you wonder why she's dating a freak with no brains like eren. and eren himself is sprawled in a lawn chair opposite you, ankle hooked over knee, joint dangling between his fingers, looking insufferably pleased with himself for orchestrating this entire situation.

and you, well... you are not in your body correctly.

everything feels both too far away and too close. your limbs are heavy but also floating slightly off delay, like there’s a half-second lag between thought and movement. the world has that soft, rounded blur at the edges, porch light halos smeared gold across your vision.

also everything is spinning. but also squeezing. it's weird to describe and it makes your head hurt.

and there’s an eyelash in the corner of your left eye. you can feel it. a microscopic needle of irritation. normally you’d just rub it out but your motor skills are out the window. your hand lifts, misses, drops back to your thigh. tragic. and connie is still talking.

and that’s when you see him.

armin.

warm porch light pours over him from above, catching in pale strands of hair that fall across his forehead. shorter than you expected, soft and neat around his ears, but still light enough that it glows. he looks like an angel. he leans his head out the back door like he’s just checking the weather, one hand braced on the frame, and says something to eren, you don’t know what.

all you know is he is the most beautiful creature you’ve ever seen.

and you have to have him.

the next thing you know everyone’s standing up. chairs scraping, joints stubbed, connie clapping his hands once like a fucking transition cue. you scramble to follow, dignity hanging by a thread. walking requires active concentration now and you are manually placing each foot. heel, toe. heel, toe.

the kitchen is darker than outside, which feels illegal. your pupils are still porch-dilated, so everything inside is murky shapes and motion. voices overlap, eren, connie, cabinet doors, the fridge seal suction-popping open.

your stomach reacts before your nose has registered the smell.

a deep growl that cuts through the noise of eren and his roommates. silence drops for half a second. and every turns to look, at what? something behind you. you turn as well. there’s nothing there. only door. oh. they’re looking at you. oh lol. okay. okay. social protocol. smile? laugh? you bare your teeth in what you hope is a human expression. nice. cool. normal. what was —PIZZA???

god bless eren yeager. he appears at your elbow and wordlessly hands you a slice. deep pan. obscene thickness. stuffed crust swollen with molten cheese. oh, the sweet love you would make to him.

once you've eaten you actually feel… better?

isn’t that funny. the weed wasn’t making you crazy. you just needed food.

good to know.

you swallow, wipe your thumb across the corner of your mouth.

but back to business—

“who was that?” you say, you’re voice still slurred but you can blame it on the fact that you’re talking through a mouth of cheese and tomato.

luckily, eren has even less manners than you.

“huh? who? ohhh — uhh, armin?” burp. he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand (see, no manners). “yeah. remember i was telling you, my roommate who’s also my best friend,” another burp building, unstoppable, “who’s also like super duper smart and shit—”

yes, that's it. you do remember.

yeah, yeahhhh — you’ve seen him. not just on instagram, but around campus too, pretty sure. library steps once. outside the engineering building another time, backpack slung over one shoulder, talking with his hands, hair catching sun. you clocked him then, in that idle, cataloguing way you clock attractive people you will never interact with.

but eren keeps going.

“…but you’ve met before, right? on my birthday…”

eren’s birthday.

maybe you’re still a little greened out, because the second he says it you don’t remember. you get mentally yanked backwards, your brain trips over a cable and suddenly you’re there again.

because eren’s birthday party was fucking insane.

like, chemically altered reality insane. music so loud it vibrated your ribs. bottles clinking, glass sweating onto every surface. girls fully twerking on the kitchen counter while someone held their drink so it wouldn’t spill. there was a fight at some point, you’re almost sure, shouting, a chair scraping, people chanting, but the timeline is soup.

and you were outside most of the night.

back against the fence, hoodie smelling like ten different people’s smoke, stealing cigarettes from strangers with the confidence of someone who knows they're never gonna see these people again. passing lighters. laughing at jokes you only half heard. head tilted up at the cold air, nicotine buzz threading through the alcohol.

and then you were in eren’s room.

right, yeah, that part sharpens. door closed, bass thumping through the wall. you and this same connie, cross-legged on the floor, taking catastrophic bong rips, smoke hanging blue in the desk lamp glow. someone’s jacket under your head at some point. your shoes kicked off. the room spinning gently, pleasantly.

and then you were horizontal.

fully passed out on eren’s bed. starfished. lights still on. party still raging somewhere else in the house.

but someone found you.

that part comes back in pieces first, sensation before image. the mattress dipping. a hand, warm and careful, on your shoulder.

“hey,” a voice said, soft, almost apologetic. “you okay?”

him.

blonde. tall, or maybe he just felt tall because you were flat on your back and the room was tilting. hair falling into his eyes. lashes stupidly long. a small silver bar catching light when he spoke.... tongue piercing.

and his voice. god.

gentle in that precise, controlled way that nerdy guys sometimes have when they’re trying very hard not to startle you. low, careful, like he was approaching a nervous animal.

“do you… want some water?”

he was so hot.

you remember staring at him. actually staring. zero shame. full heart eyes. you remember trying to sit up and failing halfway, limbs syrupy and uncooperative. him steadying you automatically, one hand at your upper arm, the other braced on the mattress near your hip so he wouldn’t crush you.

“sorry,” he said, like you were inconveniencing him.

insane.

and then, uhhhh, honestly, the memory fuzzes again. water happened, probably. you think he moved your shoes. you definitely fell back asleep while he was still there. but the feeling stayed. soft voice. warm hand. silver flash when he smiled.

your eyes snap back to eren now, kitchen light too bright after the flashback haze, pizza halfway to your mouth.

you are suddenly extremely alert for someone who was non-functional thirty seconds ago.

“you remember that?” you say, incredulous, grease on your fingers, heart doing a weird little stutter you refuse to examine.

because if eren remembers....

then that means armin definitely remembers.

and oh my god.

you met him while you were passed out, drooling, cross-faded beyond medical recommendation.

oh wow, you might have to die. like actually.

“yeah?” eren says, blinking at you like this is not a catastrophic revelation. “you were like, dead. bro, i thought you died in my bed.”

“oh my god,” you mutter, pressing greasy fingers to your forehead. the kitchen light is still too sharp, halos forming around everything. “shut up.”

“nah, yeah, armin found you,” eren continues cheerfully, asshole, mouth full again. “gave you water. moved you so you didn’t, like, choke or whatever.”

you make a small, strangled sound into your pizza.

connie is still talking. he has not stopped talking this entire time. something about a class, or a gym membership, or crypto, you have no idea. his voice is a radio in another room. mikasa is leaning against the counter beside him, silent, watchful, occasionally giving you that quick assessing glance like she’s checking you’re not about to tip over.

you’re fine. you’re normal.

“—and then i told him, bro, that’s not even how macros work,” connie is saying, gesturing with both hands.

you nod at him. you do not know why.

but your eyes keep drifting. kitchen doorway. hall. back door.

like if you look enough times he might just appear again, summoned by sheer horny humiliation.

and then...

there.

movement in the hallway.

you feel him before you properly see him, which is deeply embarrassing but also scientifically real. your brain just goes him in big glowing letters.

armin steps into the kitchen like he’s unsure he’s allowed to take up space in it.

tall. god, he’s tall. you weren’t imagining that. he has to duck slightly under the stupid low light fixture, one hand automatically coming up to brush his hair back. it’s shorter than it used to be, clean at the nape, longer on top, soft blond falling forward again immediately because physics loves him personally.

grey hoodie. sleeves pushed to his forearms. veins faint under the skin there. dark sweatpants. socks. domestic. dangerous. sexy. you might die.

he pauses when he notices you. and you watch recognition happen.

it’s subtle. a tiny stilling, eyes focusing, head tilting just slightly. but it’s there. he knows exactly who you are.

oh no. no, no, no, no, no.

“hey,” he says.

same voice.

you actually might pass out again, which would be thematically consistent but socially unrecoverable.

“h—” you try. your mouth is still full of pizza. incredible work. flawless execution. you swallow too fast and cough once. “hi.”

eren points at you with his crust like a presenter unveiling a corpse. “this is who i was telling you about. my coworker.”

i know, his face very clearly says.

“we’ve met,” armin says gently.

KILL YOURSELF.

you make a noise that is meant to be a laugh and comes out like a dying engine. “yeah. yeah i, uh. apparently.”

his mouth twitches. he remembers everything. every single drooling second. you can see it.

“you were asleep,” he says, immediately, like he senses the spiral. “it wasn’t— you were fine.”

you stare at him.

this man is trying to protect your dignity retroactively.

you are going to marry him.

“she was not fine,” eren says.

you kick him in the shin without looking.

“OW—”

“shut up,” you hiss.

connie finally clocks the vibe shift and looks between you two, squinting. “wait, you guys know each other?”

“she died in my bed,” eren says helpfully.

“EREN.”

mikasa sighs, long-suffering. “he means she fell asleep.”

“like dead,” eren insists.

you cover your face with both hands. there is a beat of silence. and then, warm, close. a plate appears in front of you on the counter. you peek through your fingers.

armin has slid the pizza box closer to you. opened the lid properly. even turned it so the intact slices face your side. and given you a warm plate.

you've never been more turned on in your life.

“you should probably eat more,” he says quietly. “you look… a little green.”

he noticed.

of course he fuckin' noticed. you are vibrating like a temu rose toy and blinking like a broken animatronic.

“i’m good,” you say instantly, grabbing another slice. “i’m great. amazing. never been better.”

you take an aggressive bite to prove stability.

he watches you chew like you are a delicate lab experiment. and there’s a tiny smile there now. soft. private. like he finds you… endearing.

oh, this is terminal.

“i’m armin, by the way,” he says after a second, offering his hand like you’re meeting at a networking event instead of over grease and weed stink.

you stare at it.

long fingers. clean nails. faint ink smudge on the side of his index finger. student. nerd. god. the things you could do with those hands—

you wipe your hand frantically on your jeans and take it.

his grip is careful. warm. brief.

“i know,” you blurt.

everyone goes quiet.

abort.

“i mean — eren. he says your name. a lot. not like— weird. just like. normal amount. of name saying.”

kill yourself kill yourself kill yourself.

connie barks a laugh. eren wheezes. mikasa presses her lips together.

armin just nods once, eyes crinkling slightly.

“good,” he says.

and he means: i’m glad you know me.

you are so unbelievably fucked.

he disappears after that, which is honestly a good thing because you're not sure how much more of his genuineness you could've taken before you climbed over the kitchen counter and begged him to let you bounce on his dick.

and you don't see him again, except for a few dreams, until about two weeks later.

it’s been raining all day.

not cute drizzle rain either. heavy, grey, relentless rain that makes the windows look like they’re crying and turns the backyard into a swamp. so eren’s “kinda chill kickback” is now crammed fully inside the house. damp shoes by the door. hoodies slung over chairs. the whole place smells like wet denim, cheap cologne, and weed.

music hums low from the speakers in the living room.

and you, you are not participating correctly.

which is impressive, because for once, you actually look good.

like, intentionally good.

cropped top that shows a strip of stomach when you move. baggy jeans slung low enough that the elastic waistband of your boxers peeks out, Calvin Klein logo flashing every time you shift. fresh sneakers. rings on your fingers. hat pulled low but in a deliberate way. you even lined your lips.

so naturally, instead of mingling like a normal person, you’re currently under the dining table in the corner of the living room.

knees pulled to your chest. back against one of the legs. tablecloth draped down like a little privacy curtain. your modded PSP glowing in your hands, Street Fighter running smooth as hell because you spent three days watching YouTube tutorials to jailbreak the stupid thing.

your THC vape is tucked between your thigh and the wall. you take small hits between rounds.

you can hear everything happening above you. voices overlapping. someone laughing too loud. connie trying to explain something again. eren arguing about music. the thud of someone dropping onto the couch.

you’ve almost forgotten you’re technically at a party when, a pair of sneakers stops in front of the table.

clean. white. slightly rain-specked at the toes.

you freeze mid-combo.

the tablecloth lifts. light floods in. and there he is.

armin (cue dreamy sigh), crouched slightly, one hand holding the fabric up, peering at you as if he’s discovered a rare woodland creature.

he blinks once.

“…are you under the table?”

you stare up at him.

he’s dressed simple but unfairly effective. black tee that fits too well. chain at his neck. hair slightly damp from earlier rain, pushed back messily like he’d run a hand through it one too many times.

you forget how to speak for a full two seconds.

“uhhh, yeah, it's um, strategic positioning?” you say finally, cringing at yourself, god why are you such a loser, pushing your hat back a little. “...better... airflow....?”

his eyes flick to the PSP in your hands.

“…is that a modded 3000?”

oh, yes. oh, no.

you light up immediately. of course, traitor body. you're such a nerd sometim—

“yeah!” you scoot forward without thinking, enthusiasm overriding dignity. “i swapped the firmware, it runs emulators now. i’ve got like, everything on here. ps1, gameboy advance, some old arcade ports—”

you are rambling. and you are so high.

“the stock memory is trash so i had to replace it, and the battery life sucks but i found this workaround online and— look—” you tilt the screen toward him. “i main chun-li but only because her frame data is stupidly good if you actually know how to use her.”

you glance up.

he looks… delighted.

“that’s actually impressive,” he says, crouching properly now. his knee brushes yours under the table. the contact is small but you feel your stomach turn. “most people just download ROMs and call it a day.”

“losers,” you scoff automatically. ironic.

he laughs softly.

you take a quick hit of your vape to stabilize. mistake. the exhale fogs the tiny space between you.

he watches the smoke curl.

“can i?” he asks, gesturing toward the PSP.

you hand it over immediately.

and armin sits down. under the table. with you.

the world above continues. feet moving. bass thudding. someone yelling for more cups. but down here it’s dim and warm and weirdly intimate, just the glow of the screen lighting up his face.

he’s focused instantly. thumbs precise. posture relaxed but intent.

“you’re holding the joystick wrong,” you blurt.

he glances at you and you feel your brain short circuit.

“i mean— not wrong. just, like. uhhh, if you angle it more you can buffer inputs faster.”

you lean in without thinking, reaching to adjust his hand.

your fingers wrap lightly over his.

oh.

his skin is warm. slightly calloused at the tips. you can feel the faint vibration of the game through both of you. you realize what you’re doing. you do not move away.

“like that,” you say, voice suddenly softer.

above you, someone knocks into the table slightly. it shifts. the tablecloth falls a little lower, closing you in further.

you and armin are practically knee-to-knee now, screen glow flickering across his face.

“so,” he says, eyes dropping briefly to your cleavage (SCORE), then snapping back up like he’s trying to behave. “is this what you normally do at parties?”

you grin, unable to help it. “only when the company’s good.”

you are so unbelievably doomed.

he’s locked in now. fully invested. tongue pressing lightly against the inside of his cheek when he concentrates, which you absolutely do not notice in a normal way, and absolutely does NOT make your pussy flutter. your knee is still touching his. neither of you have addressed it.

you’re explaining hitboxes. he’s actually listening. it’s intimate in the nerdiest, most sexiest way possible.

but then of course. a shadow passes the tablecloth. slow. deliberate. you ignore it.

something metallic swings down in front of the fabric. back and forth. back and forth. you squint at it. it’s a lighter. blue. scuffed. unmistakably eren’s. it dangles there like bait.

you stare at it for two full seconds.

you do not move. you are strong. the lighter swings closer.

you reach out on instinct and snatch it.

“AHAA!”

the tablecloth rips up dramatically. light floods in again and eren’s face is there, victorious.

“found you, asshole.”

you blink up at him, his lighter already in your fist. “i was not hiding.”

“you’re literally under a table.”

“strategic positioning,” you repeat.

his eyes flick between you and armin.

armin, still seated cross-legged, PSP in hand, looks… suspiciously comfortable down here.

“rain stopped,” eren says, waggling his eyebrows. “backyard’s not a swamp anymore.”

your brain processes that instantly. outside. air. smoke.

you shift, crawling out from under the table like you’ve been summoned (you kinda have). your hat almost knocks against the underside on the way up.

you stand, brushing imaginary dust off your jeans like you haven’t just been living feral for twenty minutes.

“finally,” you mutter.

eren snorts. “i knew you’d come out for fire.”

you flip him off affectionately.

as you turn, you feel it. armin’s eyes. on you. you glance down and remember. right. you’re dressed. like you actually properly put effort into the fit for once.

cropped top. exposed waist. the boxers waistband peeking over your jeans when you stretch slightly to adjust your hat. the chain at your neck catching the warm lamplight.

his gaze drops. just for a second. to the strip of skin between your top and jeans. then to your back pocket when you reach behind yourself and pull out the small metal case. it clicks open with a neat little sound. inside, two perfectly rolled joints. tidy. symmetrical. artisanal, honestly.

eren whistles. “you came prepared.”

“i don’t leave the house unarmed,” you say.

you hold the case out toward armin without thinking.

his brows lift slightly. “you rolled those?”

“yeah,” you say, suddenly self-conscious in a way that makes no sense. “i mean. it’s not hard.”

he takes one carefully, examining it like it’s something delicate.

“they’re… really clean,” he says, impressed. “mine always canoe.”

you feel your ego inflate instantly.

“that’s because you’re probably packing it unevenly,” you say, stepping closer. “you have to distribute it first. like this—”

you take it back for a second, tapping it lightly, demonstrating with your fingers.

he watches your hands. not the joint. your hands. (oh she fluttered again.)

“you’re very precise,” he says quietly.

you glance up and he’s closer than you thought.

eren makes a gagging noise. “okay, smoke nerds, go outside before you hotbox my living room by accident.”

he heads toward the back door.

you hesitate half a second, then jerk your head at armin. “you coming?”

he doesn’t answer immediately.

just stands, brushing his hands on his sweatpants, stepping closer until there’s barely space between you in the hallway bottleneck.

“yeah,” he says. simple. low.

you step out into the backyard.

the rain really has stopped. everything smells clean and electric. pavement still damp, reflecting the warm yellow light spilling from the house. a few people are already out there, huddled under the overhang, talking in low voices.

you lean against the railing, pop the lighter open. flick. it sparks once. twice.

you cup your hand around it, bringing the flame to the tip of the joint.

you inhale slowly, practiced. the ember glows bright. you exhale toward the cool night air. and then you turn, holding it out toward armin. he steps closer to take it. instead of grabbing it immediately, his fingers brush yours first.

on purpose. (?????)

he takes a drag, less confident but not clueless.

coughs once, lightly, embarrassed.

“newbie.”

“i’m out of practice,” he says, eyes watering slightly, laughing under his breath.

you lean in, lowering your voice.

“good thing i’m patient.”

the rain smell is fading now. the backyard’s warmer, humid from bodies and smoke. someone’s laughing too loud near the fence. there’s noise behind you. eren yelling at someone about tracking mud inside. connie arguing with sasha about something pointless. but it all feels distant. it’s just the damp night air. shared smoke. his shoulder brushing yours when he hands the joint back.

and the very clear, very sudden realization that he did, in fact, come looking for you first.

the joint’s almost done. he’s looking at you like he’s debating something. you clock on immediately.

“what,” you say, squinting at him.

“when you passed out,” he starts, for fuck sake, your stomach drops.

“i didn’t pass out,” you correct automatically on defence, “i was just... rebooting?” shut up, shut up, shut up.

he smiles faintly. “right. rebooting.”

you wait.

he rubs the back of his neck, almost shy. almost.

“you said something,” he says.

oh god.

“people talk in their sleep all the time,” you wave off. change the subject quickly—

“you said,” he continues, ignoring you now, “that i was ‘objectively hot.’”

there it is. your brain goes white noise. because, damn, did you really say that? you do not react. externally.

“did i?” you say, voice flat. casual. bored. you take the last drag, exhale slowly. “well. i stand by it.”

his brows lift slightly.

you flick the roach away, grind it under your sneaker.

“you are,” you continue, like you’re discussing the weather. “objectively attractive. good bone structure. symmetrical. clear skin. tall. statistically, you’re doing well.” stop talking, stop talking, now.

you shrug. “i just appreciate aesthetics.”

he’s staring at you now. not laughing. not brushing it off.

“objectively,” he repeats.

“yeah,” you nod. “it’s not personal.” liar, liar, liar, liar.

he steps closer. just slightly.

“so you weren’t flirting,” he says.

you tilt your head. “i was unconscious.”

“you just… evaluated me.”

“correct.”

he studies you for a second, like he’s trying to see through the performance.

you refuse to blink first. you are cool. you are detached. you are absolutely not thinking about his hands or his mouth or the fact that he smells clean even in a backyard full of smoke.

“you also said,” he adds quietly, “that my voice was ‘dangerous.’”

you almost choke on air.

“did i.” did you????

“yeah.”

you click your tongue thoughtfully, “that tracks.”

“does it?”

“low register,” you say calmly. “soft delivery. good cadence. it’s a lethal combination.”

he huffs a laugh, but it’s shakier than before.

“you’re very clinical about this.”

“it’s important to stay grounded.”

grounded. hah. funny

he steps closer again. there’s barely a foot between you now.

“so if i said,” he begins slowly, “that i think you’re hot—”

your heart punches your ribcage. you raise a brow. “objectively?”

“no,” he says. and he doesn’t look away. “personally.”

your mouth goes dry. you refuse to crumble.

“that would be your subjective experience,” you say evenly.

he smiles, but there’s tension in it now. curiosity. challenge.

“and if i told you,” he continues, voice lowering just slightly, “that i've seen you around campus before then, and i thought you were intimidating because you always looked like you knew exactly what you wanted.”

your stomach flips violently. you lean back against the railing to compensate.

“maybe i do,” you say. no you don’t.

you absolutely do not.

except right now.

right now you do.

and it’s him.

he glances at your mouth, quick, but you catch it, your pulse goes crazy.

“so,” he says softly, “was i wrong?”

you hold his gaze and let the silence stretch just enough to feel intentional. then you shrug. “guess you should’ve tried.”

it’s light, teasing, but there’s an opening in it. a real one. and his jaw tightens slightly, like he’s processing that, like he might actually do something about it.

from behind you, eren (fucking cockblock) yells your name loudly for absolutely no reason.

“don’t let it go to your head,” you say as you brush past him, shoulder grazing his chest on purpose. “being objectively hot isn’t a personality.”

you make it three steps toward the back door before you feel it. him. still behind you.

you turn around slowly.

“you following me?” you ask.

“maybe,” he says.

the backyard’s thinned out. most people drifted back inside when the music got louder. it’s just a couple silhouettes near the fence now, the yellow porch light casting long shadows across the damp ground.

you lean back against the wooden railing again. you’re trying to look relaxed. you are not relaxed.

“you never answered me,” he says.

“about what.”

“whether i should’ve tried.”

oh. uhhhhh, you've run out of flirty lines and you genuinely don't know what to say to this guy, and he definitely knows that.

you cross your arms.

bad move. it draws attention to your cropped top. you feel his eyes flick down again before he catches himself. he’s not slick. it’s cute.

“you’re smart,” you say. “you figure it out.”

“that’s not how data works,” he replies immediately.

you grin despite yourself. “don’t start.”

“no, seriously,” he steps closer, leaning one elbow on the railing near you. not touching. just close enough that you can feel the heat off him. “if the variable is ‘intimidating girl on campus,’ and the hypothesis is ‘she will reject me,’ the only way to test that is—”

“to collect evidence,” you finish.

he smiles. “exactly.”

“so you’re saying this is research.”

“i’m saying,” he says, voice dipping just slightly, “i miscalculated.”

your stomach flips. you try to stay cool. “what part.”

“i thought you wouldn’t talk to me,” he says. “but you’re actually—” he gestures vaguely. “—like this.”

“like what,” you press.

“excited,” he says.

you scoff. “i’m not excited.”

“you ramble when you’re excited.”

you freeze.

he clocks it instantly. “see?” he adds softly.

fucking traitor body. you push off the railing and step closer instead of retreating.

“i ramble when someone’s worth explaining things to,” you counter.

his eyes sharpen a little at that. “so i’m worth explaining things to?”

“don’t fish,” you say.

“i’m not.”

“you are.”

he laughs under his breath. the air feels thicker now. not from smoke. from proximity.

“teach me something then,” he says suddenly.

you blink. what? “what.”

“anything. you like teaching. i’ll be your student.”

that should not sound like that.

you narrow your eyes suspiciously. “you’re being weird.”

“i’m being curious.”

you hesitate. then your brain lights up with the worst possible idea.

“okay,” you say slowly. “Street Fighter.”

he exhales a small amused breath. “we don’t have the PSP.”

“we don’t need it,” you step even closer, so now you’re almost chest to chest. you can see the faint freckles across the bridge of his nose. you are holding it together with tape. “frame advantage.”

his gaze drops to your mouth again (gotcha). then back to your eyes.

“explain.”

“when you make a move,” you say, lifting your hand between you, “there’s recovery time. if you recover faster than your opponent, you have advantage.”

“so you can move first.”

“exactly.”

he nods slowly.

“so right now,” he says, “who has advantage?”

oh. you swallow.

“depends,” you say lightly. “who committed first.”

“you called me hot.”

“objectively.”

“you lingered when you handed me the joint.”

you did. you absolutely did. observant bastard.

“you followed me,” you shoot back.

“because you told me to try.”

your breath catches, that was not supposed to land like that. he steps closer, this time, you don’t step back. there is barely space between you now. your chest rises. his does too. you can feel the warmth of him through the thin fabric of your top.

“so,” he murmurs, voice low enough that it barely carries past you, “who has frame advantage?”

you are so gone.

“i do,” you say.

he waits, you don’t move, neither does he. you’re both waiting. testing. and then, you reach up and lightly adjust the chain at his neck. just two fingers hooking it, straightening it. slow. intentional. his breath stutters, tiny, but you feel it.

“see,” you say quietly. “you reacted.”

his jaw tightens.

“that’s not an advantage,” he says. “that’s bait.”

you grin. “maybe.”

his hand comes up then, not to grab you, not to pull you in, just to mirror you. he brushes his thumb lightly along the waistband peeking over your jeans. not under, just there, barely touching. electric. erotic.

you inhale sharply despite yourself.

“you reacted too,” he says.

your brain is melting, you are folding, catastrophically, and he knows it.

he leans in slightly, close enough that his breath ghosts near your ear.

“so maybe,” he murmurs, “it’s a tie.”

your hands find the front of his hoodie without thinking. fist loosely curling in the fabric.

“temporary stalemate,” you whisper back.

“can i ask you something,” he says.

your pulse spikes again. “you’re asking a lot tonight.”

“i’m collecting data.”

you roll your eyes but your grip tightens slightly in his hoodie. “what.”

his thumb slides away from your waistband, but his hand doesn’t drop. it rests lightly at your hip now. not squeezing. just there.

“do you want to keep pretending this is theoretical,” he says quietly, “or do you want to continue this experiment somewhere less… public.”

your brain short circuits.

“define public,” you manage.

he glances toward the house where silhouettes move past the windows.

“somewhere with fewer variables,” he clarifies.

oh. oh that’s smooth.

you try to keep your voice steady, but you are kicking your feet. “and where would that be, professor.”

his mouth twitches. “my room.”

“what’s in it for me?”

his hand at your hip shifts just barely closer.

“privacy,” he says.

your stomach flips.

“and?” you press.

his eyes drop to your mouth again. then back up.

“undivided attention.”

safe to say you went up to his room.

armin doesn’t rush you. that might be the worst part. he kisses you slowly, deliberately, like he’s mapping something out instead of losing control. his weight settles more fully over you, one knee pressing into the mattress beside your thigh, his hand sliding from your waist up along your ribs until it rests just under your chest.

you are absolutely not calm.

you kiss him harder to compensate. your fingers curl in the front of his shirt and pull him down closer, your mouth parting against his. you’re trying to look like you’ve done this a thousand times, like you’re not seconds away from combusting. but your breathing keeps giving you away. every time his tongue brushes yours, your grip tightens involuntarily.

he notices. of course he notices.

he pulls back just enough to look at you, his lips barely a breath from yours. his thumb drifts up from your ribs, tracing slowly along your collarbone, then down the centre of your chest, light enough to make you shiver.

“you’re trying so hard,” he murmurs.

“to what,” you shoot back, though your voice comes out softer than intended.

“to act like this isn’t affecting you.”

you roll your eyes, but your pulse is hammering and there's a pool slick growing in your underwear. “you’re not exactly neutral.”

“that’s not what i said.”

his hand shifts lower again, thumb hooking briefly at the waistband of your jeans before sliding back up. the movement is slow, controlled, and it makes your stomach flip in a way that feels unfair. you need something to ground yourself, something to prove you’re not the only one unravelling.

so you grab his wrist.

he stills immediately, watching you.

you bring his hand up between you. his fingers brush your mouth as you guide them there, your eyes stay locked on his as you part your lips and press a soft kiss to the pad of his index finger.

his breathing changes.

you feel it before you hear it.

you drag your tongue slowly along the side of his finger, then close your lips around it, warm and deliberate.

your gaze doesn’t drop. you want him to see exactly what you’re doing.

his shoulders tense. his jaw tightens. his free hand grips your hip harder, fingers digging into the fabric of your jeans.

you suck gently, then a little deeper, your tongue pressing against him. you can feel the way his breathing stutters, the way his body shifts instinctively closer without him even realizing it. when you pull back, you let your lips slide slowly over his knuckle, leaving his skin warm and damp.

the room is very quiet.

“that,” he says, voice lower now, rougher, “was not subtle.”

“i wasn’t aiming for subtle.”

he exhales through his nose, a quiet, almost disbelieving sound, and then he leans down and kisses you again, but it’s different this time. hungrier. dirtier. less measured. his hand that you just had in your mouth moves to your jaw, tilting your head so he can deepen the kiss. you feel the shift in him. the control slipping just a little.

you slide your hands under the hem of his shirt now, palms against warm skin, fingers splaying over his back. he reacts instantly, a quiet groan escaping him when your nails drag lightly across his lower spine. his hips press forward before he catches himself, and that tiny loss of composure makes heat rush straight through you.

“you’re impossible,” he murmurs against your mouth.

“and you invited me up here,” you reply, breathless.

those same fingers you had in your mouth slide from your jaw, down your neck, tracing the centre of your chest slowly. he doesn’t rush. he’s watching you the entire time, tracking every flicker of your expression.

his hand drifts lower. down your stomach. over the curve of your hip. his thumb hooks into your waistband again, slower this time. intentional. he doesn’t break eye contact when he slips his hand just beneath the fabric.

your stomach tightens.

he leans down and kisses you while his fingers slide further, testing, careful at first. you inhale sharply into his mouth when he finally presses his palm fully against you through the thin fabric. the heat of his touch sends a pulse straight through your spine.

“still a stalemate?” he asks quietly against your lips.

you try to answer coolly, but your voice comes out breathless. “maybe.”

"maybe?" he hums softly, like he doesn’t believe you for a second. "you're dripping."

those same fingers you had wrapped around your tongue move slowly, deliberately. he takes his time, brushing, learning, watching how your body reacts. when he finally presses with more purpose, you grip his shirt again, the composure you were clinging to slipping through your fingers.

he notices immediately.

"fuck you're so wet, is this all for me?"

god, he sounds so smug, but the way your walls clench at the sound of his voice makes him suck in a deep breath.

your head falls back against the mattress as his hand moves more confidently now, guided by every sharp inhale and involuntary shift of your hips. he keeps kissing you between murmured comments that are far too calm for what he’s doing.

you grab his wrist again, but this time it’s not to redirect. it’s because you need something to hold onto. your nails press into his skin as he continues, slow and steady. it's torture but, fuck, it's everything you've ever wanted.

he leans down to your ear. “you tasted good on my fingers,” he murmurs. “thought it was only fair they return the favour.”

that does something dangerous to you.

your confidence finally cracks completely, replaced by open, needy heat. you arch into his hand without meaning to, and he exhales sharply at the movement, control slipping further.

“temporary,” he breathes, as your composure dissolves under his touch. “right?”

he groans into your mouth, low and wrecked, hips shifting forward before he even thinks about it. the fact that you react so quickly, so sensitively, makes his control snap in real time. you feel it in the way his hand tightens, the way his fingers move with sudden urgency instead of patience.

“you’re—ngh,” he exhales, voice breaking slightly. “you’re so responsive.”

his forehead drops to yours for a second as he keeps moving his hand, breathing uneven, like he’s trying to keep up with you and failing. every twitch of your hips, every sharp inhale, every squelch of your pussy, every little involuntary movement feeds him.

“you have no idea what that does to me,” he mutters, almost frustrated.

the fact that you’re this affected, this undone, clearly flips something in him. his hips roll forward instinctively, seeking friction against your thigh, and he exhales sharply when he gets it.

“you react so easily,” he says, voice low and strained. “it’s driving me insane

he drops his mouth to your neck, biting lightly. his hand keeps working, less measured now, scissoring in and out of you, responding to every noise you make. the mattress shifts beneath you as he adjusts closer, pressing into you without thinking.

you can feel how turned on he is.

your hips jerk forward. your breath stutters. and you make a mess all over his fingers while he’s still murmuring against your mouth.

his hand tightens reflexively and he exhales sharply, hips rocking forward against your thigh again because he can’t help himself. the physical proof of what he did to you clearly hits him somewhere deep

“jesus,” he mutters, he looks worse than you.

his hair’s a mess. his lips are swollen from kissing you. his breathing is uneven and he hasn’t even tried to pretend otherwise. he studies his hand for half a second like he’s processing what just happened, then looks back at you with something dangerously intent in his eyes.

and then, those same fingers that were in your mouth, then your pussy, he pops them into his mouth with a deep groan. god he's such a freak, he licks your essence off his digits as his eyes roll back. hips still humping your thigh.

...end of playback

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

pervert! nerd armin who cannot concentrate on his classes anymore because the tiny skirts you wear are a distraction to him

pervert! nerd armin who is asked by his and your professor to tutor you because at this point with your grade you will not be able to graduate or pass the class

pervert! nerd armin who teases you and makes fun of you for being “dumb”

pervert! nerd armin who pokes your thigh with his pencil whenever you get a a question wrong or whenever you’re spacing off

pervert! nerd armin who sighs loudly and rests his chin on the palm of his hand when you take too long to answer a question

pervert! nerd armin who is confused as to why you are starting to sit next to him in clas

pervert! nerd armin who snickers whenever you get called on and he whispers the answer to you but when you say it out loud, it’s wrong

pervert! nerd armin who makes fun of you whenever you forget your homework

pervert! nerd armin who secretly takes pictures of you whenever you’re not looking to add to his “collection”

pervert! nerd armin who tells you to come study at his dorm because the library gets packed at this time of the semester

pervert! nerd armin who grins when you gasp once you come inside his dorm just to be bombarded with his room full of gooner figures, action figures, geeky posters, and a collection of comics and mangas

pervert! nerd armin who purposely directs you to the wrong answers while he tutors you and scowls at you whenever “you” get the answer wrong

pervert! nerd armin who says he’s lost hope in you, that you won’t pass the class, until you say “please help me armin! i’ll do anything!” he side eyes you with a raised eyebrow while his glasses slowly fall off his nose. “anything?”

pervert! nerd armin who has you tied up in his bed, while he has a vibarator on your clit while he makes you recite the answers for the upcoming test, turning up the setting whenever you get it wrong

“p-please a-armiiiin-!” “tut tut, how else am I supposed to make you understand the material? if i reward you then just maaaybe you will start understanding”

pervert! nerd armin who is not suprised when you come running to him showing your 98/100 test score

#virtual bunny talks #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk #armin arlet #armin arlet x y/n #armin arlet x reader #armin x y/n #armin x you #armin x reader #nerd armin #nerd armin x reader #nerd armin smut #armin #armin arlet smut #armin smut

He's so pretty when he cries... Gender-Neutral, Verse 18+

His heart was just too big for his body, and he was by no means ashamed of his emotions. His disgust showed in scrunched noses, furrowed brow and slight frowns. His anger in squinted eyes, flushed face and silence. His happiness appears in short bursts, flailing hands and big smiles, bitten lips and rapid kisses. But when he cries,

oh boy.

His eyelashes flutter, sending droplets cascading down his cheek. Your clothes get damp where he had his face pressed into your ribs. His hands are warm and pathetic against your waist as he shakes against your stomach. You don't ask what happened, you have to remove his glasses. You run your hand through his messy hair, scratch lightly at his scalp until his silent tears turn into little sniffles. Then he snakes his way up your body until he has encased you in his firm arms. He burrows into the dip of your neck, snuggling deeper like a cat searching for the dark, warm, and comfortable. You ignore the wetness of your clothes. You ignore the lips trembling at your neck, and you try to ignore how good he sounds.

He whimpers. He tilts his head up as you drag your tongue up his Adam's apple and nibble at his jaw. You kiss him as a way to sooth his distress, his lips trembling as he tries to kiss you back. He pulls away with a mellow, and you lick the salt off his cheeks.

His face a blotchy red mess. His eyes flicker up to you then back down at his hand around his cock, stuck between acknowledging the intensity of your gaze and the vulgarity of his actions. His eyes squeeze shut, his nose burns. Droplets of salt join the cum on his hands.

He sniffles as you wipe your thumb across his cheek, rubbing the indentation from his glasses on his nose bridge smearing the wetness in an attempt to dry it. His eyes stare at you with such vulnerability. They're squinted with emotion; they must burn with how they glisten and whine.

You think yourself sick with how fast your chest aches with need. You can't help how your eyes track his wet, pouty lips, and you don't fight against the urge to catch them in between your teeth. He shudders, hesitant in kissing you back. You have to pry open his mouth with your thumb, hunting down his skittish tongue. He sobs in your mouth. You know that's not what he needs, and you know you're going to hell for how little you care.

He whines when he enters you for the first time. He's big where he's propped himself above you, his arms firm but trembling. He thrusts, uncoordinated and hard. A sob drips from his throat; his glasses slide down his nose, stopping tears from landing on your face. You cry out too when he drops down to rest on your shoulders, he pistols inside you like he's trying to make himself at home. He listens to the wet slap of his balls against the small fat of your ass; he hears your hiccups for breath and drowning moans and feels your erratic pulse against his lips. You listen to the sobs and apologies that pour from his mouth, breathless and trying to be full. Cumming and flooding you with all his love.

He cries out when you enter him. His lips parted, his tongue rests lazy in his mouth, drool seeping past the corners of his bitten lips. His arms are wrapped tight around your neck, nails digging trenches from your back to your shoulders, then your shoulders to your arms. You hold him up against the wall, it digs into his back. Your hands are like claws on his thighs, keeping him up as you ease into him. You can feel the lube push around the head of your cock and drip down your length. He cries in your ear, he nibbles at your shoulder to muffle them. You jerk at the sting, he has to swallow a hiccup. The more you are inside him, the more restless he becomes. He writhes in your grip, his toes curling behind your back. His cheek rubs against yours, it stains with his tears. Anything you say just slips out between the crevices of his brain.

Imagine all the noise he makes when you start moving. They're needy, coaxing and constant, then sharp and few.

-> Ryland Grace, Steven Grant, Izuku Midoriya, Jimmy Novak, Raj Koothrappali, Mark Grayson, Armin Arlet, ...

Nerd!Armin x PervFem!Reader

☆ Match my freak ☆

TAKES PLACE DURING END SENIOR OF YEAR, ALL ARE 18+

Stalking, masturbation, clothes stealing, oral (M receiving), slight anal fingering (M receiving), unprotected sex, and creampies ahead! Read at your own risk!

Nerd!Armin who noticed during the last 2 months of senior year a new, very attractive girl, had joined his tormentors friend group. Everytime he saw you walking down the hall with Historia, Reiner, and Ymir, He felt a little disappointed that such a pretty girl would hang out with such assholes.

Nerd!Armin who quickly figured out you only hang out with Historias clique because you are cousins with Ymir. He later overheard Historia telling you she only makes fun of him because he seemed like the typical discord using and hentai watching loser.

Nerd!Armin who is constantly bullied by the popular kids because he likes manga, video games, and sexual anime figures. Every time he gets dog piled on by them, you're always there with an almost sadistic grin. It bothered him more than the bullying itself, but at the same time he found it slightly hot.

Nerd!Armin who started noticing his pens going missing from his backpack, as well as keychains, books, and other miscellaneous objects. One day after gym he opened his locker to find that his normal clothes had been taken, leaving him having to wear his sweaty gym attire the rest of the day.

Nerd!Armin who kept accidentally locking eyes with you from across the cafeteria where he sat with Eren and Mikasa. He couldn't stop himself from getting flustered as you looked at him through your lashes with what he could only interpret as a lustful gaze. He had to embarrassingly use his books to cover up the tent in his pants.

Nerd!Armin who got a video from an unknown number while watching Seven Deadly Sins and eating microwave noodles. When he opened it he let out a gasp. it was a video of just the thighs and cunt of a girl and she was aggressively rubbing her clit with two of her fingers. He didn’t really stop and think how strange the situation was before he quickly unzipped his pants and wrapped his hand around his cock. As he jerked himself off he couldn't help but imagine you.

Nerd!Armin who was too focused on the idea of you bouncing up and down on his dick and moaning your name, he didn't even realize that his missing shirt and pants were on the nightstand behind the mystery woman till after he shot a load on himself.

Nerd!Armin who told Eren immediately the next day about what had happened the night before, minus the part where he was jerking off to fantasies about you. "I swear it was my clothes Eren! I don't sound crazy, right?" He ended up convincing himself it was just some freak coincidence and it was a wrong number situation.

Nerd!Armin who continued receiving videos from the unknown woman, but her face was never shown. Eventually he just saved the phone number as a contact, and like the freak he was he saved it under your name.

Nerd!Armin who continuously fantasized about you well he watched in the mystery porn videos he was sent. He couldn't help but whimper your name along with curses as he sat with his legs spread, his phone in his left hand, and thrusting into the new pocket pussy held by his right. "Fuck... [Y/N]... g-gonna... ngh!" He had saved up and bought it specifically to imagine you while either scrolling through your Instagram or watching the videos. He couldn't deny his growing crush on you.

Nerd!Armin who finally built up the courage to ask to get to know you better and hang out over the summer before you went to college. He was practically ecstatic when he found out that both of you were going to the same community college not too far away.

Nerd!Armin who after graduation invited you over to his house, he even cleaned up the monster cans and ramen bowls. While the two of you hung out and played whichever game you could figure out the fastest, he noticed the ocean blue color you had your nails done. Instead of the usual lust that washed over him when thinking about you, it felt more like butterflies in his stomach.

Nerd!Armin who took a shower once you left for the night and once he was getting dressed for bed he noticed a pair of his boxers were missing from his dresser. His face scrunched with confusion as he saw one of those ocean blue nails on the carpet by the drawer. "Must have fallen off." He put the nail on his nightstand and crawled into bed for the night.

Nerd!Armin who got a text from the contact that he named after you the next morning. As his still sleep filled eyes slowly opened to check his photo notifications he found himself paralyzed momentarily when he realized it was a picture of him sleeping.

Nerd!Armin who debated blocking the person now that the situation was getting more creepy, but at the same time he didn't want the free porn to stop and even though it was illogical he found the fact he had a stalker almost... sexy?

Nerd!Armin who decided because the weather was getting warmer and he was starting a whole new chapter of his life now that he graduated, he was going to cut his hair. As he got in his car after leaving the barber he got another message. It was a photo of him merely moments before when he walked out into the parking lot. It was captioned 'I liked your hair better longer.'

Nerd!Armin who immediately looked out his windows to try it and figure out who took the picture, and that's when he noticed your car in the direction it had to have been taken from. Accidentally the two of you locked eyes through the windshields of your cars for a moment and you immediately drove away.

Nerd!Armin who once again brushed the whole situation off as a coincidence. Or at least he tried. As you and him got closer and he spent more time at your house he noticed some things. Almost every time he went over he somehow would manage to walk in on you either changing or touching yourself. You would then fiercely deny that you were in fact doing that and get angry at him before making him leave your room.

Nerd!Armin who noticed when he finally got your number so you guys wouldn't have to keep messaging each other on insta, the number was a contact in his phone. It was already under your name too.

Nerd!Armin who may or may not have been snooping through your stuff when he found a box under your bed. It contained almost every single missing item he had. Including the stuff from when he was still in school. His boxers, his keychains, his mangas, they were all there. He also found a couple of toys mixed into the collection of items. He couldn't help but feel ashamed when his cock went hard because of it.

Nerd!Armin who well staying the night at your house woke up to the feeling of hands on his thighs. When he opened his eyes he let out a small gasp at the sight of you climbing into his lap. “H-Hey… what are you doing?” Only for you to back off and stare at him. "Sorry... just wanted to see if you were awake."

Nerd!Armin who couldn't sleep the rest of that night. He wanted to say he was disturbed with your behavior, but found himself silently wishing you would come back.

Nerd!Armin who was becoming less oblivious to the signs of you being his stalker. Even though most people would have been creeped out, some dark part of him found it endearing that such a gorgeous woman was so obsessed with him.

Nerd!Armin who came over again a week later, but had to let himself in after you wouldn't answer the door. When he entered he could hear you moaning and the soft buzz of vibrations coming from the living room. "God... You're mine... Fuck! Armin!"

Nerd!Armin who turned the corner and could feel his cock twitch when he realized it was his name on your tongue while you were rubbing your vibrator along your clit, not to mention he was quite literally watching you do that.

Nerd!Armin who blushed when you noticed him. "[Y/N]! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to walk in... I just... uh.. I think I should probably go now!" He didn't even realize how obvious his erection was from your angle.

Nerd!Armin who couldn't quite remember how he ended up on the couch with you between his knees but he wasn't complaining about it. He breathed shakily as you made quick work of his belt before you undid the fly of his pants.

Nerd!Armin who whined as you yanked both his jeans and boxers off with one tug. His dick immediately sprung up, gladly free from its cloth constraints. Your eyes lock onto his tip. It was a flushed pink and you could only describe it as pretty. You wasted no time before it was in your mouth.

Nerd!Armin who had to do everything in his power to not finish right there. Your mouth felt so good but it felt even better as you went all the way down on him. A choked moan was ripped from his throat when he felt the tip of your nose against his pubic bone.

Nerd!Armin who could only watch and tremble as you practically face-fucked yourself on his cock. Every time you took all of him in your mouth he could hear a small gagging sound, making the whole situation feel even more erotic.

Nerd!Armin who could feel your saliva dripping down to his balls. Your index finger gently swiped some off and found its way to his rim as you teased him. He let out a loud gasp and his hips twitched as your finger prodded at his entrance.

Nerd!Armin who moaned uncontrollably as you continued sucking his cock and fingering his ass at an excessive pace. Suddenly your finger curled inside him, hitting his prostate. Without warning he spilled ropes of his cum into your mouth.

Nerd!Armin who could only watch with wide eyes as you stared him down and swallowed his seed.

Nerd!Armin who held your hips with his hands as you sank down on his dick while you were feverishly kissing and sucking hickeys into his neck. He had to close his eyes when he bottomed out to ground himself.

Nerd!Armin who could barely keep up with you bouncing on his pretty cock. He had no clue you had so much energy or stamina. He tried to continue holding on to you but you are simply going too fast, loudly babbling his name and other obscenities. "Armin! Armin! Fuck your so big... All mine!"

Nerd!Armin who became a whining mess as he got close. Somewhere along the line his hands had reached under your shirt and were playing with your nipples. He could only stare at your boobs bouncing in the fabric of your shirt while he groped them.

Nerd!Armin who started crying due to the overwhelming sensation of you atop of him. Your tight pussy felt so warm around his aching dick. "Oh fuck... I'm so close... Please don't stop!"

Nerd!Armin who watched as you threw your head back and your walls spasmed around him as your orgasm washed over you. That sensation was enough to pull him over the edge and he tried lifting you off him so he wouldn't come inside you.

Nerd!Armin who could only whimper loudly as your thighs clench down around his hips making it so he couldn't pull you off. Without being able to pull out, he ended up filling you up with his cum.

Nerd!Armin who after coming down from his high could only stare as a mix of both his and your juices formed a ring around his cock where the two of you met.

Nerd!Armin who had to hold back a smile when you asked him a question. "Wanna go for round two?"

|| Word count: 2,239 || || Writen by a freak, for freaks ||

#armin smut #armin x reader #nerd armin #nerdmin #attack on titan #armin arlert #aot x reader #nerdmin x reader #nerd armin x reader #aot smut #armin x reader smut #for freaks

is it still me that makes you sweat?

nerd! armin x reader (nsfw)

tags: college au, f/m, tongue piercing, semi-public sex, oral fixation library sex, edging, nipple piercing, dry humping, virgin, smut with plot, dirty talk, nipple play, making out, soft dom/sub, 18+, whimpering

The fall semester is nearing its end, and the only thing you’ve been up to is finals, of course. However, there’s somebody else who has piqued your interest lately at the library where you’ve been studying…

Armin Arlert, the library assistant at your college.

Every time you pop into the library for a long study session alone, you constantly manage to grab his attention.

Maybe it’s because of how put-together you always are? Or how good you look in those tiny skirts you wear from time to time?

You’ve had many interactions with him: when you need help finding a book on the subject you’re learning about, or with a question you’re struggling with, somehow he’s always there whenever you need him. You find it cute. Even though he seems somewhat reserved whenever he’s around you. Then again, both of you are somewhat strangers to other. Sometimes you wish it could be more than that…

──────────────────────

“I need to stop procrastinating and finish this damn essay for psych,” you said, heaving a sigh.

“Why don’t you head over to the library instead of staying in the dorm with me and Sasha?" Mikasa offers as she cleans up around the dorm you share. “Plus, once you’re done, we can all have movie night together! I’m dying to have one again,” Sasha chimes in, agreeing with Mikasa.

“Yeah, you’re right. I was thinking about going out in a bit. I just wanna get ready before I go,” you say as you slowly head to the bathroom to touch up your makeup and find a cute outfit to put on.

“Getting ready for the library, I see? Is there somebody specific you’re hoping to see hm?” Mikasa giggles, hoping to get some kind of reaction out of you.

“Maybe y/n is going to pay Armin a little visit,” Sasha teases, giggling with Mikasa.

You froze for a second, thinking about how you’ve been caught…

“How do you guys know me so well,” you sighed in disbelief. Mikasa and Sasha always know when you’re up to something. Maybe Armin has mentioned you when they all hang out… I mean, they’ve all been good friends for years. I’m sure you get brought up from time to time..

“Well, don’t go doing anything stupid. You need to get your finals done, deadlines are approaching way too fast,” Mikasa scolds you a bit for not being on track with your academics.

“I know, I know. I will,” you sigh loudly enough for everyone to hear. You finished getting ready to head out, slinging your tote bag over your shoulder. “I’m gonna head out now, see you later, guys. I’ll send a text in the group chat if I’m coming back late.” Mikasa nods, and Sasha blows you a kiss goodbye, wishing you well on your studies as you hurry out the door.

You finally made it to the library after you grabbed a coffee and a sweet treat, so you’re motivated enough to write your essay.

As you approach the building, you’re eager to see if the blondie is on his shift. Maybe he’s just as eager to see you, too? You shrug away the thought as you enter the building through those heavy wooden doors.

Finally, you enter the library, inhaling the smell of still air and old books. You take the elevator to go to on 5th floor of the library.

…

*ding* you’re here

Stepping out of the elevator, you sigh in relief at how very few people are on this floor. You walk around, looking at shelves upon shelves of books as you look for a secluded place to do your work.

While looking for a spot, you suddenly catch a glimpse of the very person you hoped to see.

His beautiful blonde hair was hard to miss; those sweet blue eyes that make your heart flutter every time he stares at you a little too long, glasses that slide down his nose when he looks down at you. There was no doubt about it. He was already staring at you the moment he noticed you were here.

He smiled when he saw you, waving slightly. Both of you make quick but heavy eye contact with one another. Before you could break eye contact with him, he says, “Let me know if you need help with anything. I’ll be happy to help.” You blush at his kindness but quickly nod and thank him as he goes back to stacking books up on the shelf.

You continue walking and find a seat close enough to be able find him if you needed to. You set everything down on the table, sipping your cup of coffee and resting a bit before you started working. Eventually, you pull out your laptop and notebooks, getting comfortable and ready to start working when you realize, “shit… I forgot my textbook.” You suddenly recall that you left it on your desk in your bedroom, frustrated at the thought since you need it to write your psych essay.

Maybe Armin can help me… You smile at the thought of him helping you out. Eager to find him, you slowly get up, pulling yourself together while you make your way through the narrow walls of bookshelves, hoping to find him, and you eventually do. You find him near the back; the walls of bookshelves tower over both of you.

There he is…You found him organizing more stacks of books, immersed in his own world.

Before approaching him, you stop to admire him..

You don’t know why, but there’s just something about him that you can’t seem to resist, like a moth attracted to the light. You continue walking closer to him.

“Hey Armin, is there any way you guys happen to have this psych textbook? I desperately need it for my essay that’s due on Friday,” you asked.

He startles and quickly turns to you, immediately recognizing your voice. “Uh- y-yeah, yeah! I definitely have it. What was the name of the textbook again?” he stutters, eyes lowered while trying not to make too much eye contact with you. You quickly tell him the name of the book you’re looking for.

"I believe it should be around here… you can follow me,” he says as you continue to thank him for helping you out, which managed to crack a cute smile from him. “The book should be here somewhere…” He ran his slender fingers along the spines of each book he looked through. At last, he does find it and hands it over to you, giving you a small smile. Before you can say anything, he suddenly decides to asks you something.

“By the way, your name is y/n right? Sorry I know that was out of the blue,” he quickly looks down at his feet out of nervousness, hoping you don’t notice. Your heart skips a beat at the thought of him saying your name. After all, you do have mutual friends, yet you’re intrigued who told him about you...

“Yeah it is. Who told you that?” you shoot him a snarky grin as he stammers to explain himself. “Eren actually told me since you dorm with his girlfriend Mikasa. We’re all pretty close friends and I’ve always seen you around a lot, so I just wanted to know…”he starts rambling in an attempt to reassure you so he doesn’t come off as a perv somehow.

You giggle at what he says. Seeing just how flushed he gets when he talks to you, you can’t help but want to tease him more. “Honestly I wanted to get to know you too. I mean… I see the way you stare at me,” you say as you slowly move closer to him.

He realizes what you’re doing and clenches his jaw as he looks you up and down. You see the way his eyes drop down directly at your chest for a moment, lingering before they snap back up to your face. Can you blame him though? You were wearing a low-cut long sleeve top, with no bra underneath as your nipple piercings peaked through your tight fitting top.

He can’t help the fact that his dick twitches at the thought of being this close to you. The air suddenly feels thick and heavy around you, and he’s trying so hard to keep his composure but the way you look at him makes it all that more difficult… you want him and he knows that.

You can’t help but be a bit bold. “Would you want my number? I think you can get good use out of it, no?” you hummed to yourself. He was not expecting that… He looks dumbfounded at what you said, feeling flabbergasted at how blunt you are. He slowly nods his head, not knowing what to say he blurts out, “y-yeah of course.” He shakily hands you his phone. Putting your digits in, you swiftly hand the phone back to him. His fingers accidentally brushed against yours.

You both don’t say anything for a while; just taking each other in for a moment. The tension between you is unbearable. Armin stands there stiff as wood, trying to figure out what to say to you next, but you quickly say something first to break the silence.

“Well I really should get back to my work. Maybe you can find me again once your shift is over?” you grin, waiting for his response.

“Yeah I get off in about an hour so maybe you can use some help, i-if you would like that. I believe I’ve taken the class before too,” he says while trying to keep his cool. Knowing me, I need all the help I can get. You sigh in relief, nodding at his offer.

“Thenn I’ll see you later okay?” winking at him as you slowly turn and walk back to your seat.

“Fuck me…”Armin mumbles lowly under his breath while watching you walk away, getting a good look at the tiny black miniskirt you happen to be wearing. He can’t help but wonder if you’re the slutty type or if you wear a thong underneath your skirts… Pervert. He shrugs his dirty thoughts away and goes back to his work.

You return to where you left your stuff. Finally, you take a seat, trying to concentrate on your essay, but you can’t seem to get him off your mind. I wonder if he’ll actually help me, you think to yourself as you work on your essay.

Before you realize it, two hours have gone by.

It’s 7:00 pm on the dot, and the 5th floor is completely empty by now. You decide to text the group chat you have with the girls.

You: Guys, I’m still at the library I think I’m gonna be here until it closes, it feels like..

Sasha: Nooo we were hoping you could have dinner with us :((

You: I wish but I have 2 more pages to go babes

Mikasa: I’ll save you a plate so you have dinner to enjoy when you get home <3

Sasha: Aw okay we’ll miss you now go finish that essay !

You: Ily both i’ll catch you guys later :3

As you put your phone away, guess who finally shows up?

It’s Armin, of course. As soon as you see him, you give him a gesture to come over. He notices you as he begins to walk towards you. He’s finally off his shift. In his comfortable clothes, you can’t help but stare at him. He quickly notices, making him nervous as he approaches the seat next to you. Quite bold of him.

“Hey y/n, how’s the essay coming along?” he takes a seat, trying not to make eye contact with you as he starts making himself comfortable, pulling out his laptop and his notes. “I’m telling you this is literally torture. How am I supposed to finish a 6-page essay in two days?” you complained. Felt like the exhaustion from all the stress during finals week has gotten to you.

“It’s doable, but at least I can help you out. Can I take a look?” he asks. You move your laptop so he can see what you’ve written so far, without realizing he gets significantly closer to you to get a better look. You feel his knee bump into yours. That’s when he realizes how close he was to you. “O-oh sorry, am I too close?” he asks, ears turning red from embarrassment. “Get closer if you want,” you say, slightly flustered.

As you say that, he leans slightly closer to you, his body reacting first before his mind does. At this closeness, he can smell the sweet scent of your perfume on your neck. It kinda smells like cherries, he thinks to himself. God, he can’t get enough of you. He wants you on him.

The sexual tension between you two gets stronger; it’s just you and him in the library. Forget your essay. It’s such a perfect time for one of you to make a move on the other. Pausing for a moment, you look up at him. “Armin… have you ever kissed anyone before?”

His breath hitched at your words. “N-no, I actually haven’t done anything like that with anyone before,” he replies. “Really…? Not even a little peck?” you teased him. He quickly shook his head no. All he could focus on was the way you’re looking at him.

“Then… can I be your first?” you ask, failing not to burn up at your own words. He freezes for a moment. “I-I mean.. how can I say no to you?” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. You gently grab his face while staring into his pretty eyes. “Just follow my lead, okay?” you whispered into his ear. He nods. Tilting his head, he’s leaning towards you. Your lips softly brush together, kissing him ever so slowly but desperately. He already lost his composure when you pressed your lips against his. He’s been wanting this for so long.

Armin is a fast learner, though. He’s doing such a good job mirroring your movements to the point where you started wondering if he’d actually done this before… Gaining more confidence, he slowly starts to swirl his tongue around yours, and you feel the slight pressure of his tongue piercing. Oh? It surprised you, the fact that he has one.

Your heart is racing, and you can’t help but crave more. The kiss is getting more intense as he slowly slides his hand onto your thigh, caressing it ever so lightly. You moaned in his mouth, pressing your thighs together from how good he makes you feel. Fuck. If he wasn’t already hard now… he thought, while he breaks apart from the kiss, letting you catch your breath.

He was still grabbing your thigh. “Didn’t expect you to have a tongue piercing,” you said softly as a small smile touched your lips. “Y-yeah.. I kinda forgot to mention that. I hope that wasn’t weird for you.” He swallows hard, throat feeling dry, trying to regain some composure as his hand lets go of your thigh. “No, I enjoyed it. It was really hot,” you murmured slightly, getting close to him again. You put your hand on his chest, gliding it lower and reaching for his crotch. Feeling how hard he is, you gasped quietly.

Armin tilts his head back, letting out a low whine just from your touch. Fuck. He’s so hard it hurts… He clenches his jaw tightly, teeth grinding against each other, thinking about all the things he can do to you while no one’s watching. It’s exactly what he needs to relieve himself. You can’t help but bite your lip, showing him how badly you want it. “You’re such a virgin Armin, it’s cute. Do you want to keep going?” you asked, continuing to palm his erection.

“Yes. Please y/n,” he says as he bites back a moan. With that, you make your move, fixing your bunched-up miniskirt as you slowly get up from your seat. He definitely caught a glimpse of your underwear. “Lace panties? How fitting…” he cooed. Your face turns red at his remark. “You’re such a pervert.” He leans back in his seat, spreading his legs out just a bit. He feels his pants tightening even more at the pretty view in front of him. Armin reaches his hand out for you, and you’re surprised at him taking the lead. You grab his hand, and he’s pulling you straight into his lap.

You’re flustered when he sets you down on top of him, grabbing your waist softly. Immediately feeling his bulge now directly on your cunt, you can’t help but start grinding back and forth on him. Gasps and moans slowly leave your mouth. “You don’t know how badly I’ve been wanting to do this with you,” he whispered. A sudden neediness fills his voice as his hips try to match your pace. He feels how wet you are for him.

Oh fuck. He can cum just by doing this. If you keep going any longer, he might just…

On queue, you slowly stop bucking your hips onto him, almost like you read his mind. “Armin… I don’t want you to cum just yet,” you said coyly. He throws his head back, feeling breathless. “Please, y/n I’ll do anything,” staring at you so desperately with those pretty eyes. “Anything…?” Your adrenaline kicks in a little, continuing the deep eye contact you both make with one another. “You should kiss me slowly down my neck, then you can go from there,” you say in a haze.

“L-like this?” Firmly grabbing your waist, he leans closer, starting to kiss the top of your neck. Not knowing what he’s really doing, he slowly goes lower and lower, nibbling your skin ever so gently, letting out faint moans. “You’re doing so well Armin… you want me to take my top off for you?” you say teasingly as you bite your lip. Without hesitation, he’s already lifting your top off, desperately wanting to see how hot nipple piercings look on you. “Fuck y/n. How do you keep getting hotter,” he murmurs, already grabbing your tits with the cold touch of his hands.

His words send a tingle down your spine as he firmly gropes your chest. Seeing the glare in his eyes you he knows exactly what he wants to do with you. He shudders out a “Can I...?”

Tilting your head, you give him a sweet smirk.

“Go ahead, but... remember what I told you, okay?” He doesn’t even care if you won’t let him cum yet, he just wants to make you feel good..

He exhales, and before you know it, you feel him sinking his mouth in, feeling his tongue piercing glide over your nipple piercing. His tongue circles around it softly as he gropes the other tit.

The feeling makes you quiver, throwing your head back, and blurting out many moans that echo around the library.

Armin realizes how loud both of you have been. He doesn’t stop what he’s doing, though..

“If you’re too loud, we might get caught,” he says between heavy breaths. You can’t help but whine in annoyance. “I hope we get caught so everyone can see how desperate you are to get your dick wet,” you say, biting back a moan as you start rolling your cunt over his hard erection again.

He can feel how wet you are against him through the fabric of your underwear. Armin jolts a little as he hears what you said.

“Y/n, please. You’re gonna make me cum and I’m not even inside you..” he whines. Seeing the desperation in his eyes

The way he’s looking at you is mesmerizing, observing his desire for you

You can’t help but give in. How could you not?

You let him know you’re giving in by slowly smirking at him

He starts grabbing onto you waist again moving your hips up and down rubbing against his cock, his pace gets faster and faster

Leaning towards him now kissing him up his neck, slightly biting his collarbone, leaving him all red

Letting desperate whines from his mouth, he breathes out “ Mmph just like that y/n,” he murmured

You remain calm while continuing to kiss him, leaving a few hickey marks on his neck. His groaning is growing louder and more needy

Armin is not lasting another second of this feeling, his vision fading..

“fuck, I can’t— I-I’m almost-” inhaling sharply, bucking your hips down one last time before he releases, he cums fucking hard. His body jolts harshly from the intensity of his orgasm, his hands gripping your hips tightly as a string of moans leaves his mouth. The sight of him like this makes you cry out, reaching your peak. All you can hear is the sounds of your breathing as you come down from your high.

Armin feels his body limp, hair sticks to his forehead from all the sweating. After catching your breath, you feel a wet spot underneath you, realizing you made a mess in his pants and realizing what he just did.

You stop to look back up at him, arching your back lightly as you feel the pool of wetness under you. "armin, did you just cum? I guess you really are a virgin," you tease him.

"Shitt," he says, deeply gasping for air. You lean towards him, putting your head on his chest. As you both try to catch your breath, exhausted, you say, "We should do more of these study sessions. I have a thing or two I can teach you." You giggle, and his face turns red from embarrassment. Soon after you say those words, you both hear an unexpected *ding* from the elevator.

Hearing someone walking inside the building, both of you freeze in place, staring at each other. Remembering you're still in the library, you both realize you aren't alone anymore..

Oh god, if anyone sees you both as a hot mess and you on Armin's lap, both of you are done for. You swiftly hop off his lap, pulling your top back on, fixing your lifted miniskirt. As you do, you finally get a good look at the mess you made all over his pants.

You turn your head away, noticing he was also staring down at his pants.

You sit back down next to him, keeping your composure as he leans back in his chair, wiping the sweat off his forehead, fixing his messy hair, and cleaning off his glasses. You can help but stare, seeing how good he looks after practically ruining him.

"Should we get back to working on your essay?" he whispers, giving u a soft smile.

…

notes: I hope you enjoyed! this is my first time writing something like this so lmk if should more like this

update 8/11: sorry for the long awaited update life has been ROUGH but thank you for all the support on my first fic recently uploaded a new work abt nerd armin & fratboy eren check it out if you enjoy this one <3

(crossposted on ao3)

Nerd!Armin … pt.1??

Warnings: unedited Oral, Tongue Piercing, Alcohol, cheating, uhh idk I havent done this in a while LOLZ, eating from the back???

Nerd!Armin was an undercover freak, and you had no idea. Not until tonight, that is.

Nerd!Armin was just a quiet guy in one of your mandatory history courses.

Nerd!Armin literally never spoke, and when he did, it was mumbles so quiet and unclear that everyone had given up speaking to him in general, including your professors.

Nerd!Armin was the type of guy who kept his head down, did his work, and left. He had only two friends, Mikasa and Eren, both very much losers in their own right.

Nerd!Armin was the kind of guy you avoided at all costs, not because of reputation or anything, but cause he kind of weirded you out.

Nerd!Armin had somehow scored an invitation to one of the frat parties your boyfriend was hosting, probably through Connie, a guy who gave out invites like candy.

Nerd!Armin sat in the corner with Eren and Mikasa, silently drinking away and occasionally nodding his head to the music.

Nerd!Armin looked good tonight, his stupid dinosaur shirt clinging to his skinny frame, making your mouth dry. It was probably the alcohol or your boyfriend getting on your nerves.

Nerd!Armin looked good drunk and now stood swaying; his eyes caught sight of you from across the room. You sat in the corner opposite him, your boyfriend long gone, drunk off his mind, probably going to jump off a roof or something.

Nerd!Armin swayed closer and closer to you, mouthing the words of some 2hollis song that blasted in both of your ears. His mouth mouthing every word so distinctly that it was the first time you'd seen his mouth move, his mouth open.

Nerd!Armin had a tongue piercing.

Nerd!Armin stood above your sitting figure and looked down at you before entering the bathroom.

Nerd!Armin turned his head back to face you as if beckoning you to join him.

Nerd!Armin had forgotten his friends long ago; the only reason he came was to see you.

Nerd!Armin had you bent over the bathroom counter as he pulled down your thong and stroked at your wet cunt with his middle finger, the only one actually with a green lantern ring on it.

Nerd!Armin didn't speak to you as he bent down to take a long stripe from your pussy, afraid he'd begin to stutter and turn you off. Nerd!Armin did, however, eat you out until you screamed his name over and over.

Nerd!Armin smirked into your cunny when your boyfriend knocked at the door, begging to take a piss. Feeling you freeze up at the sound of your boyfriend's voice, Armin pushed his piercing into your clit once more time and forced an orgasm out of you once more; this time, you bit your lip and clenched onto the tap in front of you and shook violently.

Nerd!Armin's glasses fogged up, and mouth dripping with your cum satisfied, he turned you around and guided you onto your knees as he unbuckled his pants, all while your boyfriend still waited on the other side.

Nerd!Armin had no intention of keeping quiet, though…

#armin #armin attack on titan #nerd! armin #nerd armin #armin x reader #armin smut #armin arlet smut #armin arlert #armin headcanons #armin thirst #nerd armin x reader #black reader #armin aot #cat writes ★#aot x black reader #aot x you #attack on titan x reader #aot smut

“sugar, we're goin' down”

a college au feat. armin arlert

“a loaded god complex, cock it and pull it.”

wc: 7.2k

mdni

cw: recreational drug use (yknow me), umm greening out, reader is a loser sorry self indulgent, reader is fem + black coded, kys is used lightheartedly, reader is a perv, finger sucking, fingering,

starting track…

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

holy fuck, this bad.

like. really bad.

but you can’t help yourself. you know that.

and eren definitely fucking knew that.

he’s kinda like you, in a way.

but you like eren. he’s a bit of you, yknow.

you get on stupidly well, same music, same humor, same mutual understanding that if he takes the trash out you’ll cover for him when he disappears for twenty minutes.

he’s cool.

oh.

we’re so back.

and you, you and your energy drink for breakfast. you and you’re low blood sugar, and your empty bank account, and your pathological inability to decline bad ideas, you should’ve said no.

but you didn’t.

of course you didn't.

you thought your tolerance was better than this.

clearly you overestimated yourself.

fuuuuck.

it's like, you can hear his voice, i'm sure the whole block can hear his voice, but you have no fucking clue what he's actually saying.

it’s like sound through water. syllables bending. vowels stretching. you catch fragments — bro, and then, no way — but the meaning slides off your brain before it can stick.

you’re nodding anyway. because your mind feels like its about to slip right outta your ears, and your brain is screaming act normal act normal act normal.

and you, well... you are not in your body correctly.

also everything is spinning. but also squeezing. it's weird to describe and it makes your head hurt.

and that’s when you see him.

armin.

all you know is he is the most beautiful creature you’ve ever seen.

and you have to have him.

your stomach reacts before your nose has registered the smell.

god bless eren yeager. he appears at your elbow and wordlessly hands you a slice. deep pan. obscene thickness. stuffed crust swollen with molten cheese. oh, the sweet love you would make to him.

once you've eaten you actually feel… better?

isn’t that funny. the weed wasn’t making you crazy. you just needed food.

good to know.

you swallow, wipe your thumb across the corner of your mouth.

but back to business—

“who was that?” you say, you’re voice still slurred but you can blame it on the fact that you’re talking through a mouth of cheese and tomato.

luckily, eren has even less manners than you.

yes, that's it. you do remember.

but eren keeps going.

“…but you’ve met before, right? on my birthday…”

eren’s birthday.

maybe you’re still a little greened out, because the second he says it you don’t remember. you get mentally yanked backwards, your brain trips over a cable and suddenly you’re there again.

because eren’s birthday party was fucking insane.

and you were outside most of the night.

and then you were in eren’s room.

and then you were horizontal.

fully passed out on eren’s bed. starfished. lights still on. party still raging somewhere else in the house.

but someone found you.

that part comes back in pieces first, sensation before image. the mattress dipping. a hand, warm and careful, on your shoulder.

“hey,” a voice said, soft, almost apologetic. “you okay?”

him.

and his voice. god.

gentle in that precise, controlled way that nerdy guys sometimes have when they’re trying very hard not to startle you. low, careful, like he was approaching a nervous animal.

“do you… want some water?”

he was so hot.

“sorry,” he said, like you were inconveniencing him.

insane.

your eyes snap back to eren now, kitchen light too bright after the flashback haze, pizza halfway to your mouth.

you are suddenly extremely alert for someone who was non-functional thirty seconds ago.

“you remember that?” you say, incredulous, grease on your fingers, heart doing a weird little stutter you refuse to examine.

because if eren remembers....

then that means armin definitely remembers.

and oh my god.

you met him while you were passed out, drooling, cross-faded beyond medical recommendation.

oh wow, you might have to die. like actually.

“yeah?” eren says, blinking at you like this is not a catastrophic revelation. “you were like, dead. bro, i thought you died in my bed.”

“oh my god,” you mutter, pressing greasy fingers to your forehead. the kitchen light is still too sharp, halos forming around everything. “shut up.”

“nah, yeah, armin found you,” eren continues cheerfully, asshole, mouth full again. “gave you water. moved you so you didn’t, like, choke or whatever.”

you make a small, strangled sound into your pizza.

you’re fine. you’re normal.

“—and then i told him, bro, that’s not even how macros work,” connie is saying, gesturing with both hands.

you nod at him. you do not know why.

but your eyes keep drifting. kitchen doorway. hall. back door.

like if you look enough times he might just appear again, summoned by sheer horny humiliation.

and then...

there.

movement in the hallway.

you feel him before you properly see him, which is deeply embarrassing but also scientifically real. your brain just goes him in big glowing letters.

armin steps into the kitchen like he’s unsure he’s allowed to take up space in it.

grey hoodie. sleeves pushed to his forearms. veins faint under the skin there. dark sweatpants. socks. domestic. dangerous. sexy. you might die.

he pauses when he notices you. and you watch recognition happen.

it’s subtle. a tiny stilling, eyes focusing, head tilting just slightly. but it’s there. he knows exactly who you are.

oh no. no, no, no, no, no.

“hey,” he says.

same voice.

you actually might pass out again, which would be thematically consistent but socially unrecoverable.

“h—” you try. your mouth is still full of pizza. incredible work. flawless execution. you swallow too fast and cough once. “hi.”

eren points at you with his crust like a presenter unveiling a corpse. “this is who i was telling you about. my coworker.”

i know, his face very clearly says.

“we’ve met,” armin says gently.

KILL YOURSELF.

you make a noise that is meant to be a laugh and comes out like a dying engine. “yeah. yeah i, uh. apparently.”

his mouth twitches. he remembers everything. every single drooling second. you can see it.

“you were asleep,” he says, immediately, like he senses the spiral. “it wasn’t— you were fine.”

you stare at him.

this man is trying to protect your dignity retroactively.

you are going to marry him.

“she was not fine,” eren says.

you kick him in the shin without looking.

“OW—”

“shut up,” you hiss.

connie finally clocks the vibe shift and looks between you two, squinting. “wait, you guys know each other?”

“she died in my bed,” eren says helpfully.

“EREN.”

mikasa sighs, long-suffering. “he means she fell asleep.”

“like dead,” eren insists.

you cover your face with both hands. there is a beat of silence. and then, warm, close. a plate appears in front of you on the counter. you peek through your fingers.

armin has slid the pizza box closer to you. opened the lid properly. even turned it so the intact slices face your side. and given you a warm plate.

you've never been more turned on in your life.

“you should probably eat more,” he says quietly. “you look… a little green.”

he noticed.

of course he fuckin' noticed. you are vibrating like a temu rose toy and blinking like a broken animatronic.

“i’m good,” you say instantly, grabbing another slice. “i’m great. amazing. never been better.”

you take an aggressive bite to prove stability.

he watches you chew like you are a delicate lab experiment. and there’s a tiny smile there now. soft. private. like he finds you… endearing.

oh, this is terminal.

“i’m armin, by the way,” he says after a second, offering his hand like you’re meeting at a networking event instead of over grease and weed stink.

you stare at it.

long fingers. clean nails. faint ink smudge on the side of his index finger. student. nerd. god. the things you could do with those hands—

you wipe your hand frantically on your jeans and take it.

his grip is careful. warm. brief.

“i know,” you blurt.

everyone goes quiet.

abort.

“i mean — eren. he says your name. a lot. not like— weird. just like. normal amount. of name saying.”

kill yourself kill yourself kill yourself.

connie barks a laugh. eren wheezes. mikasa presses her lips together.

armin just nods once, eyes crinkling slightly.

“good,” he says.

and he means: i’m glad you know me.

you are so unbelievably fucked.

and you don't see him again, except for a few dreams, until about two weeks later.

it’s been raining all day.

music hums low from the speakers in the living room.

and you, you are not participating correctly.

which is impressive, because for once, you actually look good.

like, intentionally good.

so naturally, instead of mingling like a normal person, you’re currently under the dining table in the corner of the living room.

your THC vape is tucked between your thigh and the wall. you take small hits between rounds.

you’ve almost forgotten you’re technically at a party when, a pair of sneakers stops in front of the table.

clean. white. slightly rain-specked at the toes.

you freeze mid-combo.

the tablecloth lifts. light floods in. and there he is.

armin (cue dreamy sigh), crouched slightly, one hand holding the fabric up, peering at you as if he’s discovered a rare woodland creature.

he blinks once.

“…are you under the table?”

you stare up at him.

you forget how to speak for a full two seconds.

“uhhh, yeah, it's um, strategic positioning?” you say finally, cringing at yourself, god why are you such a loser, pushing your hat back a little. “...better... airflow....?”

his eyes flick to the PSP in your hands.

“…is that a modded 3000?”

oh, yes. oh, no.

you light up immediately. of course, traitor body. you're such a nerd sometim—

you are rambling. and you are so high.

you glance up.

he looks… delighted.

“losers,” you scoff automatically. ironic.

he laughs softly.

you take a quick hit of your vape to stabilize. mistake. the exhale fogs the tiny space between you.

he watches the smoke curl.

“can i?” he asks, gesturing toward the PSP.

you hand it over immediately.

and armin sits down. under the table. with you.

the world above continues. feet moving. bass thudding. someone yelling for more cups. but down here it’s dim and warm and weirdly intimate, just the glow of the screen lighting up his face.

he’s focused instantly. thumbs precise. posture relaxed but intent.

“you’re holding the joystick wrong,” you blurt.

he glances at you and you feel your brain short circuit.

“i mean— not wrong. just, like. uhhh, if you angle it more you can buffer inputs faster.”

you lean in without thinking, reaching to adjust his hand.

your fingers wrap lightly over his.

oh.

his skin is warm. slightly calloused at the tips. you can feel the faint vibration of the game through both of you. you realize what you’re doing. you do not move away.

“like that,” you say, voice suddenly softer.

above you, someone knocks into the table slightly. it shifts. the tablecloth falls a little lower, closing you in further.

you and armin are practically knee-to-knee now, screen glow flickering across his face.

“so,” he says, eyes dropping briefly to your cleavage (SCORE), then snapping back up like he’s trying to behave. “is this what you normally do at parties?”

you grin, unable to help it. “only when the company’s good.”

you are so unbelievably doomed.

you’re explaining hitboxes. he’s actually listening. it’s intimate in the nerdiest, most sexiest way possible.

but then of course. a shadow passes the tablecloth. slow. deliberate. you ignore it.

something metallic swings down in front of the fabric. back and forth. back and forth. you squint at it. it’s a lighter. blue. scuffed. unmistakably eren’s. it dangles there like bait.

you stare at it for two full seconds.

you do not move. you are strong. the lighter swings closer.

you reach out on instinct and snatch it.

“AHAA!”

the tablecloth rips up dramatically. light floods in again and eren’s face is there, victorious.

“found you, asshole.”

you blink up at him, his lighter already in your fist. “i was not hiding.”

“you’re literally under a table.”

“strategic positioning,” you repeat.

his eyes flick between you and armin.

armin, still seated cross-legged, PSP in hand, looks… suspiciously comfortable down here.

“rain stopped,” eren says, waggling his eyebrows. “backyard’s not a swamp anymore.”

your brain processes that instantly. outside. air. smoke.

you shift, crawling out from under the table like you’ve been summoned (you kinda have). your hat almost knocks against the underside on the way up.

you stand, brushing imaginary dust off your jeans like you haven’t just been living feral for twenty minutes.

“finally,” you mutter.

eren snorts. “i knew you’d come out for fire.”

you flip him off affectionately.

as you turn, you feel it. armin’s eyes. on you. you glance down and remember. right. you’re dressed. like you actually properly put effort into the fit for once.

cropped top. exposed waist. the boxers waistband peeking over your jeans when you stretch slightly to adjust your hat. the chain at your neck catching the warm lamplight.

eren whistles. “you came prepared.”

“i don’t leave the house unarmed,” you say.

you hold the case out toward armin without thinking.

his brows lift slightly. “you rolled those?”

“yeah,” you say, suddenly self-conscious in a way that makes no sense. “i mean. it’s not hard.”

he takes one carefully, examining it like it’s something delicate.

“they’re… really clean,” he says, impressed. “mine always canoe.”

you feel your ego inflate instantly.

“that’s because you’re probably packing it unevenly,” you say, stepping closer. “you have to distribute it first. like this—”

you take it back for a second, tapping it lightly, demonstrating with your fingers.

he watches your hands. not the joint. your hands. (oh she fluttered again.)

“you’re very precise,” he says quietly.

you glance up and he’s closer than you thought.

eren makes a gagging noise. “okay, smoke nerds, go outside before you hotbox my living room by accident.”

he heads toward the back door.

you hesitate half a second, then jerk your head at armin. “you coming?”

he doesn’t answer immediately.

just stands, brushing his hands on his sweatpants, stepping closer until there’s barely space between you in the hallway bottleneck.

“yeah,” he says. simple. low.

you step out into the backyard.

you lean against the railing, pop the lighter open. flick. it sparks once. twice.

you cup your hand around it, bringing the flame to the tip of the joint.

on purpose. (?????)

he takes a drag, less confident but not clueless.

coughs once, lightly, embarrassed.

“newbie.”

“i’m out of practice,” he says, eyes watering slightly, laughing under his breath.

you lean in, lowering your voice.

“good thing i’m patient.”

and the very clear, very sudden realization that he did, in fact, come looking for you first.

the joint’s almost done. he’s looking at you like he’s debating something. you clock on immediately.

“what,” you say, squinting at him.

“when you passed out,” he starts, for fuck sake, your stomach drops.

“i didn’t pass out,” you correct automatically on defence, “i was just... rebooting?” shut up, shut up, shut up.

he smiles faintly. “right. rebooting.”

you wait.

he rubs the back of his neck, almost shy. almost.

“you said something,” he says.

oh god.

“people talk in their sleep all the time,” you wave off. change the subject quickly—

“you said,” he continues, ignoring you now, “that i was ‘objectively hot.’”

there it is. your brain goes white noise. because, damn, did you really say that? you do not react. externally.

“did i?” you say, voice flat. casual. bored. you take the last drag, exhale slowly. “well. i stand by it.”

his brows lift slightly.

you flick the roach away, grind it under your sneaker.

you shrug. “i just appreciate aesthetics.”

he’s staring at you now. not laughing. not brushing it off.

“objectively,” he repeats.

“yeah,” you nod. “it’s not personal.” liar, liar, liar, liar.

he steps closer. just slightly.

“so you weren’t flirting,” he says.

you tilt your head. “i was unconscious.”

“you just… evaluated me.”

“correct.”

he studies you for a second, like he’s trying to see through the performance.

you refuse to blink first. you are cool. you are detached. you are absolutely not thinking about his hands or his mouth or the fact that he smells clean even in a backyard full of smoke.

“you also said,” he adds quietly, “that my voice was ‘dangerous.’”

you almost choke on air.

“did i.” did you????

“yeah.”

you click your tongue thoughtfully, “that tracks.”

“does it?”

“low register,” you say calmly. “soft delivery. good cadence. it’s a lethal combination.”

he huffs a laugh, but it’s shakier than before.

“you’re very clinical about this.”

“it’s important to stay grounded.”

grounded. hah. funny

he steps closer again. there’s barely a foot between you now.

“so if i said,” he begins slowly, “that i think you’re hot—”

your heart punches your ribcage. you raise a brow. “objectively?”

“no,” he says. and he doesn’t look away. “personally.”

your mouth goes dry. you refuse to crumble.

“that would be your subjective experience,” you say evenly.

he smiles, but there’s tension in it now. curiosity. challenge.

your stomach flips violently. you lean back against the railing to compensate.

“maybe i do,” you say. no you don’t.

you absolutely do not.

except right now.

right now you do.

and it’s him.

he glances at your mouth, quick, but you catch it, your pulse goes crazy.

“so,” he says softly, “was i wrong?”

you hold his gaze and let the silence stretch just enough to feel intentional. then you shrug. “guess you should’ve tried.”

it’s light, teasing, but there’s an opening in it. a real one. and his jaw tightens slightly, like he’s processing that, like he might actually do something about it.

from behind you, eren (fucking cockblock) yells your name loudly for absolutely no reason.

“don’t let it go to your head,” you say as you brush past him, shoulder grazing his chest on purpose. “being objectively hot isn’t a personality.”

you make it three steps toward the back door before you feel it. him. still behind you.

you turn around slowly.

“you following me?” you ask.

“maybe,” he says.

you lean back against the wooden railing again. you’re trying to look relaxed. you are not relaxed.

“you never answered me,” he says.

“about what.”

“whether i should’ve tried.”

oh. uhhhhh, you've run out of flirty lines and you genuinely don't know what to say to this guy, and he definitely knows that.

you cross your arms.

bad move. it draws attention to your cropped top. you feel his eyes flick down again before he catches himself. he’s not slick. it’s cute.

“you’re smart,” you say. “you figure it out.”

“that’s not how data works,” he replies immediately.

you grin despite yourself. “don’t start.”

“to collect evidence,” you finish.

he smiles. “exactly.”

“so you’re saying this is research.”

“i’m saying,” he says, voice dipping just slightly, “i miscalculated.”

your stomach flips. you try to stay cool. “what part.”

“i thought you wouldn’t talk to me,” he says. “but you’re actually—” he gestures vaguely. “—like this.”

“like what,” you press.

“excited,” he says.

you scoff. “i’m not excited.”

“you ramble when you’re excited.”

you freeze.

he clocks it instantly. “see?” he adds softly.

fucking traitor body. you push off the railing and step closer instead of retreating.

“i ramble when someone’s worth explaining things to,” you counter.

his eyes sharpen a little at that. “so i’m worth explaining things to?”

“don’t fish,” you say.

“i’m not.”

“you are.”

he laughs under his breath. the air feels thicker now. not from smoke. from proximity.

“teach me something then,” he says suddenly.

you blink. what? “what.”

“anything. you like teaching. i’ll be your student.”

that should not sound like that.

you narrow your eyes suspiciously. “you’re being weird.”

“i’m being curious.”

you hesitate. then your brain lights up with the worst possible idea.

“okay,” you say slowly. “Street Fighter.”

he exhales a small amused breath. “we don’t have the PSP.”

his gaze drops to your mouth again (gotcha). then back to your eyes.

“explain.”

“when you make a move,” you say, lifting your hand between you, “there’s recovery time. if you recover faster than your opponent, you have advantage.”

“so you can move first.”

“exactly.”

he nods slowly.

“so right now,” he says, “who has advantage?”

oh. you swallow.

“depends,” you say lightly. “who committed first.”

“you called me hot.”

“objectively.”

“you lingered when you handed me the joint.”

you did. you absolutely did. observant bastard.

“you followed me,” you shoot back.

“because you told me to try.”

“so,” he murmurs, voice low enough that it barely carries past you, “who has frame advantage?”

you are so gone.

“i do,” you say.

“see,” you say quietly. “you reacted.”

his jaw tightens.

“that’s not an advantage,” he says. “that’s bait.”

you grin. “maybe.”

you inhale sharply despite yourself.

“you reacted too,” he says.

your brain is melting, you are folding, catastrophically, and he knows it.

he leans in slightly, close enough that his breath ghosts near your ear.

“so maybe,” he murmurs, “it’s a tie.”

your hands find the front of his hoodie without thinking. fist loosely curling in the fabric.

“temporary stalemate,” you whisper back.

“can i ask you something,” he says.

your pulse spikes again. “you’re asking a lot tonight.”

“i’m collecting data.”

you roll your eyes but your grip tightens slightly in his hoodie. “what.”

his thumb slides away from your waistband, but his hand doesn’t drop. it rests lightly at your hip now. not squeezing. just there.

“do you want to keep pretending this is theoretical,” he says quietly, “or do you want to continue this experiment somewhere less… public.”

your brain short circuits.

“define public,” you manage.

he glances toward the house where silhouettes move past the windows.

“somewhere with fewer variables,” he clarifies.

oh. oh that’s smooth.

you try to keep your voice steady, but you are kicking your feet. “and where would that be, professor.”

his mouth twitches. “my room.”

“what’s in it for me?”

his hand at your hip shifts just barely closer.

“privacy,” he says.

your stomach flips.

“and?” you press.

his eyes drop to your mouth again. then back up.

“undivided attention.”

safe to say you went up to his room.

you are absolutely not calm.

he notices. of course he notices.

“you’re trying so hard,” he murmurs.

“to what,” you shoot back, though your voice comes out softer than intended.

“to act like this isn’t affecting you.”

you roll your eyes, but your pulse is hammering and there's a pool slick growing in your underwear. “you’re not exactly neutral.”

“that’s not what i said.”

so you grab his wrist.

he stills immediately, watching you.

you bring his hand up between you. his fingers brush your mouth as you guide them there, your eyes stay locked on his as you part your lips and press a soft kiss to the pad of his index finger.

his breathing changes.

you feel it before you hear it.

you drag your tongue slowly along the side of his finger, then close your lips around it, warm and deliberate.

your gaze doesn’t drop. you want him to see exactly what you’re doing.

his shoulders tense. his jaw tightens. his free hand grips your hip harder, fingers digging into the fabric of your jeans.

the room is very quiet.

“that,” he says, voice lower now, rougher, “was not subtle.”

“i wasn’t aiming for subtle.”

“you’re impossible,” he murmurs against your mouth.

“and you invited me up here,” you reply, breathless.

your stomach tightens.

“still a stalemate?” he asks quietly against your lips.

you try to answer coolly, but your voice comes out breathless. “maybe.”

"maybe?" he hums softly, like he doesn’t believe you for a second. "you're dripping."

he notices immediately.

"fuck you're so wet, is this all for me?"

god, he sounds so smug, but the way your walls clench at the sound of his voice makes him suck in a deep breath.

he leans down to your ear. “you tasted good on my fingers,” he murmurs. “thought it was only fair they return the favour.”

that does something dangerous to you.

your confidence finally cracks completely, replaced by open, needy heat. you arch into his hand without meaning to, and he exhales sharply at the movement, control slipping further.

“temporary,” he breathes, as your composure dissolves under his touch. “right?”

“you’re—ngh,” he exhales, voice breaking slightly. “you’re so responsive.”

“you have no idea what that does to me,” he mutters, almost frustrated.

the fact that you’re this affected, this undone, clearly flips something in him. his hips roll forward instinctively, seeking friction against your thigh, and he exhales sharply when he gets it.

“you react so easily,” he says, voice low and strained. “it’s driving me insane

you can feel how turned on he is.

your hips jerk forward. your breath stutters. and you make a mess all over his fingers while he’s still murmuring against your mouth.

“jesus,” he mutters, he looks worse than you.

...end of playback

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