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luvbugs-blog · 8 days ago

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celestial alignment ꔛ armin arlert x reader (pt. 2)

a/n: the banners just get weirder.... part two to in your orbit but idk if u need to read that one to understand this one lmao 😝🙏 #idk why this one is so much longer than part one but yolo

words: 9.6k

cw: nerd!armin, college au, she/her pronouns and fem anatomy for reader, fwb (kinda) to lovers, confessions, smut, blowjobs, cunnilingus, fingering, p in v sex, MDNI !!

ꔛ

The morning after the party, Armin woke with a pounding headache and fragments of memories that made his face burn crimson against his pillow. But even through the haze of his first-ever hangover, he couldn't bring himself to regret a single moment of what had happened between you.

Three weeks had passed since that night, and your astronomy project had become both the most productive and least efficient academic endeavor of Armin's college career. What should have been straightforward work sessions frequently dissolved into lingering touches, stolen kisses, and eventually, hurried excuses to abandon the library study room for somewhere more private.

Armin frequently worked shifts at his part-time job at the cinema on top of being the project leader. It was confusing to you how he had time to do anything besides work and school, but he managed to play an unhealthy amount of games and watch an embarassing amount of anime whenever he got the chance.

That was, unless you were around. After your hookup at the frat party in Jean's room (something Armin would never allow him to know), you and him had spent a considerable amount of time together.

You continued working on the project together, the other members eventually showing up to the meetings Armin hosted, but things were obviously different than they had been—and no, Armin did not regret anything.

In fact, he'd shown you how little he regretted the encounter many times since then. He'd act as though he wanted your special input on the project when he invited you over, only to not keep his hands to himself the entire time you'd be at his place.

You'd sat beside him at the desk in his room, looking at his PC where you were looking over the slides and ideas from your groupmates.

"This one's just ridiculous," he said, his chin rested in his hand. "I suppose graphic design doesn't come easy to everyone."

"I don't know," you teased, "that neon green and purple combo really makes the statistical analysis pop, don't you think?"

Armin groaned, running his fingers through his blonde hair. "It's physically painful to look at. I'm going to have to redo this entire section before submission."

"Always the perfectionist," you said, nudging his shoulder with yours.

"Someone has to be." He clicked through a few more slides, his knee occasionally brushing against yours under the desk. "Otherwise we'd be presenting with clip art and Comic Sans."

You reached for the mouse, your hand briefly covering his. "Let me show you mine."

Armin leaned back in his chair, watching you navigate through the shared folder. You could feel his eyes on you rather than the screen, that subtle attention he'd been giving you since the party. It made concentrating on the project increasingly difficult.

"Here," you said, opening a new file. "This is what I was working on last night."

Armin's casual expression shifted as he leaned forward, eyes widening slightly as he reviewed your slides. The casual criticism vanished as he scrolled through your work.

"(Y/N), this is..." he paused, scanning the detailed analysis you'd prepared. "This is really good. The way you've visualized the data is exactly what we needed."

You felt a flush of pride at his genuine appreciation. "Yeah? I spent way too long on it, honestly."

"It shows." He turned to face you, his expression softened. "You didn't have to go this in-depth."

"Well, you're not the only perfectionist around here."

The corner of his mouth twitched up into that half-smile you'd grown increasingly fond of. His eyes dropped briefly to your lips before meeting your gaze again.

"I think we deserve a break," he said quietly.

Without waiting for your response, he leaned in and kissed you softly, his hand coming up to rest against your cheek. Unlike the urgent, heated kisses you'd shared before, this one was gentle, appreciative—sweet in a way that made your heart flutter unexpectedly.

When he pulled back, his thumb traced your cheekbone lightly. "Sorry," he murmured, not looking sorry at all. "I've been wanting to do that since you walked in."

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "You don't have to say sorry anymore, Armin. Not for that."

His smile widened, and he leaned in again, this time catching your lips with more confidence. The kiss deepened slowly, his fingers tangling gently in your hair as he pulled you closer. You could feel the warmth of his breath, the way his lips curved against yours when you smiled into the kiss.

One of your hands found its way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss further. His other hand slid down to your waist, thumb brushing against the exposed skin where your shirt had ridden up slightly. The touch sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, and you let out a quiet hum against his lips.

Armin pulled back just enough to look at you, his cheeks slightly flushed, eyes bright with affection—and something else, something warmer. "You're distracting," he murmured, his voice low.

"Me?" you teased, nipping lightly at his lower lip. "You're the one who started this."

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against your mouth as he kissed you again, slower this time, savoring it. His fingers traced idle patterns along your side, his touch feather-light but enough to make your breath hitch.

Just as you were about to shift closer, a loud bang rattled the door, followed by an exasperated shout.

"ARMIN!" Connie's, Armin's roommate and friend you had met a few times and who was always nice if not a little wild, voice carried through the wood, sharp and impatient. "I swear to god, if you don't get your ass out here and deal with the dishes, I'm throwing them all in your bed!"

Armin groaned, dropping his forehead against yours with a defeated sigh. "I told Sasha to clean them last night."

You bit back a laugh, watching as he reluctantly pulled away, his expression torn between irritation and lingering amusement.

"I'm not kidding, man!" Connie banged on the door again. "Sasha refuses to touch them, and I'm not doing it! You live here too!"

Armin exhaled sharply through his nose, casting you an apologetic glance. "I should probably... handle this before he actually follows through."

You grinned, giving his hand a quick squeeze. "Go. Save your bed from dishware."

Armin sighed dramatically but pushed back from the desk, giving you one last lingering glance before heading toward the door. "I'll be right back," he muttered, clearly annoyed at the interruption.

You turned back to the slides, clicking through them with half-hearted focus, but without Armin beside you, the work suddenly felt dull. The silence of the room—now free of his quiet murmurs and occasional frustrated sighs—made the minutes drag.

Bored.

After a few more lackluster attempts at editing, you finally gave up, pushing the chair back and stretching before wandering out of the room. The sound of running water led you to the kitchen, where Armin stood at the sink, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, scrubbing at a stubborn plate with a sponge. His hair was pushed messily behind his ears, slightly damp at the temples from the steam rising from the hot water.

He hadn’t noticed you yet, too busy muttering under his breath about "Sasha’s stupid cereal bowl crusted like cement." The sight was unfairly endearing—his brows furrowed in concentration, the way his forearms flexed slightly as he scrubbed, the way his lips pursed when he was annoyed but trying not to complain too loudly.

Leaning against the doorframe, you crossed your arms and just watched for a moment, a small smile tugging at your lips.

"You know," you finally said, making him jump slightly, "I didn’t take you for the domestic type."

Armin turned, blinking at you in surprise before his expression softened into something playful. "And yet here I am, saving our apartment from a dish-based apocalypse." He flicked soapy water in your direction, grinning when you yelped and dodged.

"You’re terrible," you laughed, stepping closer.

He smirked, rinsing off the last plate before setting it in the drying rack. "But you’re still here, so I must be doing something right."

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue, moving to stand beside him. Without thinking, you reached up and tucked a stray strand of hair back behind his ear, fingers lingering just a second too long.

Armin's cheeks flushed a soft pink as he dried his hands on a dish towel, hesitating for a moment before clearing his throat.

"Uh—so," he started, avoiding your eyes for a second before forcing himself to meet your gaze. "I was thinking... I have free tickets to the movies. Since I work there. And—well—I was wondering if you'd... maybe... want to go? Sometime?"

The words tumbled out in a rush, and he cringed slightly at how awkward it sounded.

"But—!" He held up a hand, suddenly looking panicked. "Not just because it's free. I mean, it is free, but that's not—that's not the point." He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly before trying again.

"What I'm trying to say is... I'd like to take you. On a date. If you want."

His fingers fidgeted with the edge of the towel, his expression caught somewhere between hopeful and terrified.

You grinned, stepping closer and nudging his shoulder with yours. "Armin Arlert," you said, voice teasing but warm, "are you asking me out on a proper date?"

He swallowed hard, then nodded, a shy smile finally breaking through. "Yeah. I am."

You pretended to think about it for a dramatic second, tapping your chin—just long enough to watch his shoulders tense in anticipation—before grinning.

"Obviously, yes."

The relief that washed over his face was instant, his whole posture relaxing as he let out a breathy laugh. "Really?"

You rolled your eyes, reaching out to tug lightly at his sleeve. "Yes, really. I'd love to go on a date with you."

His smile was brighter than you'd ever seen it, boyish and genuine. "Good. Great. I—uh—I'll figure out the details. Make it... nice."

You couldn't resist. Leaning in, you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, pulling back before he could react.

"Looking forward to it."

Armin blinked, momentarily stunned, before his grin turned lopsided, a playful glint in his eye.

"Me too."

ꔛ

The theater’s neon lights flickered against the pavement as you spotted Armin waiting near the entrance, hands shoved awkwardly into his jean pockets. The second he saw you, he straightened up, eyes widening slightly before a warm, nervous smile took over.

"You—" He cleared his throat, stepping forward. "You look pretty... cute. I mean pretty and cute. Like. Both. At the same time."

You bit back a laugh, watching as his ears turned pink the second the words left his mouth. It was ridiculous—considering the things you’d done together, the way he’d whispered filthy praise against your skin just last week—yet here he was, stumbling over his words like this was his first-ever date.

God, he’s adorable.

"You clean up nice too," you teased, nodding at his slightly-too-big button-up and the way his hair was trying to be neatly styled but already falling out of place.

Armin exhaled sharply, like he’d been holding his breath, before hesitantly reaching for your hand. His fingers laced with yours, warm and slightly shaky, and when you squeezed, he squeezed back like he was afraid you’d disappear.

"You nervous?" you asked, bumping his shoulder as you walked toward the ticket line.

"No," he lied immediately, then groaned. "Okay, yes. But only because I—I don’t know. This feels different."

You knew exactly what he meant. Hooking up was one thing, but this? The deliberate choice of each other, the quiet intimacy of a date—it was terrifyingly sweet.

Armin led you past the concessions stand, waving casually at his coworker who shot him a knowing grin and a thumbs up. He'd insisted on paying for popcorn despite the fact that most of his perks came free with his job—"It's a proper date," he'd said firmly, handing over actual money when you tried to protest.

The theater was nearly empty for the late showing, just a couple of pairs scattered throughout the front rows. Armin guided you toward the back row, his fingers still intertwined with yours.

"I hope you like horror," he said, settling into the cushy seat beside you. "Jean and Eren said this one was supposed to be good."

What Armin wasn't telling you was the entire embarrassing conversation that had led to this choice.

"Dude, horror movie. No question," Jean had said, sprawled across Armin's couch while Eren nodded enthusiastically from the floor.

"I don't know..." Armin hesitated. "What if she doesn't like being scared?"

Eren rolled his eyes. "That's the point. She gets scared, you comfort her, she feels safe with you—boom, instant connection."

"We've already connected," Armin muttered, his cheeks warming. "Multiple times."

"Yeah, but this is different," Jean insisted, sitting up to look more serious. "This is you being the strong, protective one. Plus, dark theater, back row..." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Eren threw a pillow at Jean before turning to Armin. "Look, trust us. It's the perfect first date movie. You can protect her if it gets too scary."

As the lights dimmed and the previews began to play, Armin lifted the armrest between your seats, allowing you to slide closer. The warmth of your body against his side made him acutely aware of his heartbeat—too fast, too loud—as the movie title splashed across the screen in dripping red letters.

Twenty minutes in, it became abundantly clear that Jean and Eren's advice had been... flawed.

A jump-scare sent Armin practically out of his seat, his hand clutching yours so tightly it almost hurt. You bit back a laugh as he quickly tried to play it off, clearing his throat and settling back down. Another ten minutes passed before a second scare had him actually yelping—a small, startled sound that he immediately tried to cover with a cough.

"You good?" you whispered, leaning closer to his ear, amused by the way he'd tensed up.

"Totally fine," he whispered back unconvincingly, his eyes still fixed on the screen where a shadowy figure lurked behind the protagonist. When the inevitable jumpscare came, he flinched again, harder this time.

You couldn't help it—you laughed softly, squeezing his hand. "It's gonna be okay, Armin."

His face burned in the darkness, visible even in the dim light from the screen. "I don't usually watch this stuff."

"It's fine, really." You leaned your head on his shoulder, feeling him gradually relax against you. "It's cute, though, how scared you're getting."

Armin turned slightly, his breath warm against your temple. "Cute wasn't exactly what I was going for, but I'll take it."

The movie continued, a predictable parade of creaky doors and bloody apparitions, but you found yourself paying less attention to the plot and more to the way Armin's thumb absently stroked the back of your hand. How his breath would catch before each scare, how he'd release it slowly afterward, trying to play it cool.

Halfway through, during a particularly tense scene, you glanced up at him—his profile illuminated by the flickering blue light, his features etched in concentration despite his obvious discomfort. Without thinking, you pressed your lips to the edge of his jaw, just a light brush of contact.

Armin stilled, his attention immediately diverted from the screen to you. His eyes, wide and questioning, found yours in the darkness.

You smiled innocently, but when his gaze dropped to your lips, the air between you shifted. The movie faded to background noise as he leaned closer, hesitating just a breath away. His eyes met yours in question.

In answer, you closed the distance, your lips meeting his in a soft, testing kiss. He responded immediately, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, holding you there as the kiss deepened. The taste of buttered popcorn lingered on his tongue as it slipped past your lips, exploring with a gentleness that made your chest ache.

A particularly loud noise from the movie made him jump again, breaking the kiss with a startled gasp before he laughed softly against your mouth.

"Sorry," he murmured, his thumb stroking your cheek.

"Don't be," you whispered back, shifting to get a better angle.

This time when you kissed him, it was less cautious. Your hand slid up his arm, feeling the tension in his muscles as he pulled you closer, his fingers tangling in your hair. The armrest dug into your side but you hardly noticed, too lost in the way he kissed you—deepening from sweet to something hungrier, something that made heat pool in your stomach.

The protagonist's screams provided a bizarre soundtrack as Armin's hand moved from your cheek down to your neck, his thumb brushing the sensitive spot beneath your ear that he'd discovered weeks ago. You shivered, and he smiled against your lips, clearly pleased with himself.

"Thought you were scared," you teased quietly, nipping at his lower lip.

"Distracted now," he breathed, kissing down to the corner of your mouth, your jaw.

You glanced around quickly—the nearest couple was rows away, focused on the movie—before sliding your hand to his thigh, feeling him tense beneath your touch. His own hand moved to your waist, fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt to brush warm skin.

The kiss turned deeper, messier, as his tongue slid against yours. You could feel him getting bolder, his grip on your waist tightening as you shifted closer, your hand inching higher on his thigh. He made a soft sound in the back of his throat that sent a pulse of want straight through you.

His teeth grazed your lower lip, and you gasped quietly, feeling his smile against your mouth. This was a different Armin than the one who'd stumbled through asking you out—this was the Armin who knew exactly what you liked, who'd mapped your body with his hands and mouth, who'd made you come undone with just his fingers on multiple occasions.

"We should—" he started, pulling back slightly, his breath warm against your lips. "We should probably watch the movie."

"Yeah. I don't want your coworkers making fun of you," you whispered with a smile.

A woman on screen shrieked as something lunged at her, and Armin tensed again, his grip on you tightening reflexively. You laughed softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Maybe we should have gone with a comedy," he admitted, his voice low with embarrassment. "Eren and Jean said horror would be—" He cut himself off, realizing he'd said too much.

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What exactly did they say?"

Armin's hand fell from your waist as he ran it through his hair, messing up the careful styling even further. "Something about, uh... you getting scared and me comforting you." His ears were burning again. "Which obviously backfired because I'm the one jumping at every shadow."

"I don't know," you whispered, leaning in to brush your lips against his ear. "I think I like comforting you just fine."

He shivered, his hand finding yours again in the darkness. For the remainder of the movie, you stayed close, your head on his shoulder, occasionally stealing kisses during the less intense scenes. Whenever a jumpscare hit, you'd squeeze his hand, feeling him relax against you as the moment passed.

By the time the credits rolled, Armin had practically forgotten his embarrassment, too content with your warmth against him, the smell of your shampoo as you rested against his shoulder. As the lights slowly brightened, he turned to look at you properly, taking in your slightly disheveled appearance—lips a little swollen from his kisses, hair mussed where his fingers had tangled in it.

He looked just as affected—cheeks flushed, blonde hair falling messily across his forehead, lips pink and just a touch raw. The sight made your heart flutter.

"So," he said, voice hoarse as he helped you gather your things, "on a scale of one to ten, how bad was my movie choice?"

You laughed, standing to stretch your legs. "Well, I didn't really see much of it, so I can't judge fairly."

His smile was slow, a little smug as he stood beside you. "Me neither."

You both lingered in the theater as others filed out, neither quite ready to end the night.

"We could..." Armin started, then stopped, suddenly looking shy again. "We could go back to my place? Connie and Sasha are out tonight, so..."

The implication hung between you, charged with possibility.

You reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his. "Let's go."

His smile was bright enough to rival the theater's exit signs as he pulled you gently toward the door, the forgotten horror movie already a distant memory.

ꔛ

The door to Armin's apartment swung open, his hand fumbling slightly with the key as he stepped aside to let you in. The familiar space greeted you—Sasha's mismatched throw pillows scattered across the couch, Connie's gaming setup in the corner, and the subtle scent of Armin's sandalwood candle that he always lit when studying late.

"They're definitely out?" you asked, slipping off your shoes by the door.

Armin nodded, his eyes never leaving yours as he set his keys on the counter. "Until late. Frat party, I guess."

There was a beat of silence—a moment of shared understanding—before you both moved at once. Armin's hands found your waist as he backed you toward his bedroom, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that made it clear he'd been restraining himself at the theater. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging lightly in the way you'd discovered made him groan.

He navigated the hallway without breaking the kiss, blindly pushing open his bedroom door. The familiar space—desk cluttered with textbooks and astronomy notes, walls adorned with star charts and anime posters he'd shyly explained on your first visit—welcomed you like an old friend.

Armin walked you backward until your legs hit the edge of his bed, his hands steady at your waist. He broke the kiss, looking down at you with eyes darkened by desire, a question in them that you answered by sitting down at the edge of the mattress.

Before he could make another move, you reached for the button of his jeans, watching his breath hitch as your fingers worked the metal through the hole. His hands moved to your shoulders, gentle but trembling slightly.

"You don't have to—" he started, his voice cracking embarrassingly in the middle.

You glanced up, meeting his eyes with a small smile. "I already told you, I want to."

The flush on his cheeks deepened, but he nodded, swallowing hard as you slowly lowered his zipper. His fingers twitched against your shoulders, anticipation building in the way he shifted his weight.

The contrast between drunk Armin and sober Armin had fascinated you from the start.

Drunk Armin was all impulse and confidence—hands everywhere, whispered confessions against your skin, boldly telling you exactly what he wanted with none of his usual hesitation. The first night at the party, he'd been liquid courage and hungry eyes, pulling you into Jean's room without a second thought.

Sober Armin was a slow burn—starting tentative and sweet, checking in with gentle touches and questioning looks, always making sure you were comfortable. But what made him so intoxicating was the transformation that happened when pleasure built—how his careful control would gradually unravel, revealing the intensity he usually kept hidden beneath his quiet exterior.

As you tugged his jeans down his thighs, you could see that transformation beginning. His fingers flexed against your shoulders, his breathing already uneven despite how little you'd done.

"Is this okay?" you asked, looking up at him through your lashes, your hands resting on his hips.

He nodded rapidly, then cleared his throat. "Yeah—yes, it's... it's more than okay."

You smiled, hooking your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, enjoying the way his abdominal muscles tensed in anticipation. Slowly, you pulled the fabric down, revealing him inch by inch until he sprang free, already hard and straining.

Armin's breath caught audibly, his hands moving from your shoulders to card gently through your hair. The touch was reverent, careful—so typically Armin at the start.

You wrapped your hand around him, feeling him pulse against your palm as you stroked slowly from base to tip. His eyes fell shut momentarily, lips parting on a shaky exhale.

"You're already so hard," you murmured, thumb circling the sensitive head.

"Been thinking about this all night," he admitted, voice strained but still controlled. "Since the theater."

You leaned forward, maintaining eye contact as you pressed a soft kiss to the tip, watching his pupils dilate at the contact. His fingers tightened slightly in your hair, not pushing, just holding on like he needed an anchor.

When you finally took him into your mouth, Armin's quiet gasp filled the room. You started slow, taking just the head between your lips, tongue swirling around the sensitive ridge before dipping into the slit. His thighs trembled beneath your hands, restraint evident in every tense muscle.

"That feels—" he broke off as you took him deeper, his voice cracking again. "So good, God."

You hollowed your cheeks, establishing a rhythm as you worked him with your mouth and hand together. Sweet, shy Armin was still present in the gentle way his fingers stroked your hair, in the soft, appreciative sounds he made with each movement of your tongue.

But as the minutes passed, you felt the shift.

His breathing grew heavier, his normally precise vocabulary reduced to fragments and your name. When you took him particularly deep, letting him hit the back of your throat, his hips jerked forward involuntarily causing you to gag slightly.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," he gasped immediately, trying to pull back.

You responded by gripping his hips, encouraging him to stay where he was, looking up to meet his gaze. The message was clear: It's okay. I can take it.

The careful restraint in his expression began to crack. His hand tightened in your hair, not painful but definitely more commanding than before, guiding your movements as you continued.

"You look so—" he swallowed hard, jaw clenching as you swirled your tongue around him. "So perfect like this."

This was where drunk and sober Armin began to converge—where pleasure stripped away his inhibitions, leaving raw need in their place. His hips started to move in shallow, careful thrusts that grew more confident when you moaned encouragingly around him.

"Is this okay?" he asked, voice rough with desire, his hand now firmly guiding your head. When you nodded, he exhaled sharply. "Good, because I—fuck—I need to—"

The proper, articulate Armin was gone now, replaced by a version of him that chased his pleasure with focused intensity. His fingers tangled more firmly in your hair, his thrusts growing more deliberate as he watched himself disappear between your lips.

"You're so good at this," he praised, the words tumbling out between ragged breaths. "So perfect with your mouth, taking me so well."

You hummed around him, sending vibrations through his length that made him curse—something rare from his usual vocabulary. His self-consciousness had evaporated, replaced by a man who knew exactly what he wanted and wasn't afraid to ask.

"Deeper," he urged, voice strained but commanding. "Please, just like—yes—just like that."

When you felt him start to throb against your tongue, his thighs tensing beneath your hands, you knew he was close. His careful rhythm faltered, growing erratic as his control slipped further.

"I'm going to—" he warned, trying to pull back slightly. "If you don't stop, I'll—"

You dug your fingers into his hips, taking him deeper instead, and the last thread of his restraint snapped. His head fell back, throat working around a groan that seemed torn from somewhere deep inside him as he pulsed against your tongue.

"Fuck," he gasped, the words falling from his lips as he came, his fingers clenching in your hair, his body shuddering with release.

You worked him through it, swallowing around him until he became too sensitive, his hands gently urging you back as he caught his breath. When you finally pulled away, looking up at him with a satisfied smile, his expression was dazed, cheeks flushed dark red.

Armin was still catching his breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly, when his gaze dropped to you—eyes dark with hunger, lips kiss-swollen, fingers twitching like he couldn’t decide whether to pull you closer or give you a second to recover.

Then, with a suddenness that made your pulse jump, he pushed you back onto the bed.

You let out a surprised laugh as you landed against his pillows, but the sound choked off when he climbed over you, his hands sliding possessively up your thighs. His glasses—already fogged from his heavy breathing—slipped slightly down his nose, and with an impatient noise, he yanked them off and tossed them onto the nightstand.

"Fuck these things," he muttered, before his attention snapped back to you, making you laugh momentarily before your breath hitched.

His fingers hooked into the hem of your skirt, pushing it up your hips in one smooth motion, exposing the damp fabric of your panties. He exhaled sharply at the sight, his thumbs immediately pressing against the soaked material, dragging slowly along the seam.

"Armin," you gasped, arching into the touch.

He smirked—actually smirked—before dipping his head to press a kiss to the inside of your thigh. His lips were warm, teasing, moving higher with agonizing slowness.

"You’re so wet," he murmured, fingertips ghosting over the damp fabric of your panties. "Just from sucking me off?"

You bit your lip, nodding, and his expression darkened with satisfaction.

"Then let me return the favor."

Armin’s fingers curled into the sides of your panties, dragging them down your legs with deliberate slowness, his knuckles brushing against your thighs in a way that made you shiver. The moment they were off, tossed carelessly onto the floor, his hands returned—spreading your thighs wider, thumbs pressing into the soft skin just beneath your hips, like he was memorizing the way you opened for him.

His breath was warm against your bare skin as he leaned in, pressing a kiss just above the apex of your thighs, teasing.

"You're so cute," he murmured, voice rough with want, lips brushing against your slick folds without giving you what you wanted. "The way you react every time."

You whined, hips lifting desperately toward his mouth, but he chuckled—chuckled, the bastard—and held you down with one firm hand on your stomach.

"I—fuck, Armin—" you gasped, fingers twisting in the sheets.

"Hm?" he hummed breath fanning over your overheated skin. Then, finally, his tongue dragged through your wetness in one slow, torturous stroke, and you nearly arched clean off the bed.

His grip on your hip tightened, pinning you in place as he repeated the motion, lapping at you like he was savoring the taste. The contrast was maddening—his usual careful precision in everything he did, now applied to unraveling you completely.

Armin's mouth was relentless—hot, wet, and hungry as he devoured you with the same focus he usually reserved for his astronomy charts. His tongue laved broad, slow strokes through your folds before zeroing in on your clit, circling it with just the right amount of pressure to make your thighs tremble.

"Fuck—yes, like that—" you gasped, fingers threading through his hair, tugging lightly as he worked you over with his lips and tongue.

He hummed against you in response, the vibrations sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. Then, without warning, his fingers joined—two of them pressing against your entrance before sliding inside in one smooth thrust.

"You like that?" he asked, pulling back just enough to watch your face as he curled his fingers just right, the heel of his palm grinding against your clit.

All you could manage was a desperate nod, your voice failing you as pleasure coiled tight in your stomach.

Armin’s lips curved into a smirk—smug bastard—before his mouth descended again, tongue flicking over your clit in quick, relentless circles as his fingers fucked into you with growing insistence.

"You sound so pretty," he muttered against you, the vibrations making you writhe. "Always." His movements were precise, almost scientific, as if he’d studied exactly how to make you fall apart.

"Armin—" you panted, your grip tightening in his hair as his fingers pumped in and out, his thumb brushing your clit in tandem. "Don’t stop—please—"

He didn’t. If anything, he doubled down—sucking your clit between his lips, fucking you with his fingers at a steady, maddening pace. His free hand gripped your thigh, holding you open for him as he worked you toward the edge with terrifying efficiency.

You could feel the coil tightening in your stomach, your breathing coming in ragged gasps as he pushed you closer and closer.

"Come for me," he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with arousal. "Let me feel it."

And just like that, you shattered—your orgasm crashing over you in waves, your body clenching around his fingers as he coaxed every last pulse of pleasure from you.

When you finally slumped back against the bed, boneless and breathless, Armin pulled back just enough to look up at you, lips glistening, eyes dark with satisfaction.

"Fuck," was all you could manage.

"Good?" he asked, like he didn’t already know.

You simply whined, lips curling into a grin at his pleased expression. Armin crawled up your body, his lips finding yours in a deep, hungry kiss that let you taste yourself on his tongue. You moaned into his mouth, hands sliding up his back, feeling the muscles shift beneath your palms as he settled between your thighs.

His fingers tangled in your hair, cradling your head as he kissed you thoroughly, unhurried now despite the way his arousal pressed insistently against your stomach. Each sweep of his tongue was deliberate, each gentle bite to your lower lip calculated to make you gasp.

He sat back just enough to pull his shirt over his head, revealing the lean, subtle muscle of his chest and stomach. Not bulky like some of his friends, but defined in a way that made your mouth water. You reached up, tracing a finger down the center of his chest, feeling him shiver under your touch.

"Let me grab something," he murmured, pressing one more quick kiss to your lips before leaning over to his nightstand.

He pulled open the drawer, retrieving a small box of condoms that still had the plastic wrap on it. You raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at your lips.

"Recent purchase?" you teased.

Armin's cheeks flushed, but he nodded, tearing open the box with slightly fumbling fingers. "Got them last week. After, uh—" he met your eyes, a small smile playing at his lips. "After I decided I never wanted to use Jean's condoms again. Completely ruined the mood knowing they were his."

You laughed, the sound turning into a soft gasp as he tore open a packet and rolled the condom onto his length with careful precision.

"Plus," he added, his voice dropping lower as he settled back between your legs, "I wanted to be prepared. For you."

His hands slid beneath your knees, gently pushing them back and open, exposing you completely to his gaze. The position left you feeling vulnerable, but the reverent way he looked at you—like you were a particularly fascinating celestial phenomenon he'd just discovered—made heat pool in your stomach.

Armin positioned himself at your entrance, the blunt head of his cock pressing against your slick folds without pushing in. He guidded his cock with his hand, coating himself in your wetness, watching your face as he teased you.

You whimpered, trying to shift your hips to take him in.

His hands tightened on your thighs, holding you in place as he continued the maddening tease. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice soft but steady.

You didn't answer immediately, distracted by the pleasure building again as he rubbed his dick against your sensitive clit.

"Tell me," he prompted, leaning down to kiss your neck. "I want to hear you say it."

You threw your arm over your face, suddenly embarrassed despite everything you'd already done together. "You know what I want."

"I do," he agreed, nipping lightly at your collarbone. "But I want to hear you ask for it."

Something about his tone—not demanding or smug, but genuinely wanting to hear your desire—made heat pool in your stomach. You peeked at him from beneath your arm, taking in his flushed cheeks, the way his lower lip was caught between his teeth, the eager anticipation in his eyes.

"Please," you whispered, the word barely audible.

His smile was gentle, encouraging. "Please what?" he asked, pressing a soft kiss to your jaw.

You swallowed, gathering your courage. "Please fuck me, Armin. I want you inside me."

The words sent a visible shudder through him, his breath catching as he lined himself up properly. "Like this?" he asked, pushing just the tip inside, watching your face carefully.

"Yes," you gasped, hands flying to his shoulders as he sank deeper, stretching you deliciously. "Just like that—god."

Armin's breath hitched as he pushed in deeper, his hands gripping your thighs with increasing pressure. You watched his face transform—the careful control giving way to raw sensation as he buried himself inside you completely, his hips finally flush against yours.

"Fuck," he breathed, eyes falling closed for a moment as he adjusted to the feeling. "You feel—you feel incredible."

He stayed like that for a heartbeat, fully seated inside you, his thumbs drawing small, soothing circles against your skin. Then he opened his eyes, meeting your gaze with an intensity that made your heart stutter.

"Tell me if it's too much," he murmured, pulling back slowly before pushing in again with careful precision.

You shook your head, digging your fingers into his shoulders. "It's perfect. You're perfect."

The praise sent a visible shiver through him, his rhythm faltering briefly before he found it again, setting a deliberate pace that had you arching beneath him. Each thrust was measured and deep, hitting exactly where you needed it.

Armin bent down, capturing your lips in a messy kiss as he continued to move within you. His hand slid from your thigh to your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple through the fabric of your top.

"Take this off," he murmured against your mouth. "Want to see all of you."

You nodded, and he helped you pull the shirt over your head, followed quickly by your bra. The moment you were bare beneath him, his eyes darkened with appreciation, his hands immediately moving to cup your breasts.

"Beautiful," he whispered, almost to himself, as he rolled a nipple between his fingers, watching your reaction with fascination.

The dual sensation of his cock inside you and his fingers on your sensitive nipples had you moaning, head thrown back against the pillows. Armin took advantage, his lips finding your exposed throat, sucking and nipping at the tender skin there.

His thrusts grew deeper, more insistent, each one drawing a soft gasp from your lips. You'd almost forgotten how perfectly he filled you—the past few weeks had been rushed encounters between classes, hurried orgasms from his fingers and tongue, but not this. Not since that first drunken night in Jean's room had you felt the delicious stretch of him inside you, and your body was reacquainting itself with the sensation.

"You feel so good," Armin breathed, his voice strained as his hips snapped forward with increasing force. "So fucking tight—god—"

His cursing sent a thrill through you—the contrast between the polite, studious Armin who explained Europa's atmospheric composition with such precision and the Armin currently fucking you into his mattress, hair falling messily across his forehead as sweat beaded on his brow.

"Harder," you urged, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him deeper.

Something flashed in his eyes—a momentary hesitation, then resolve. "You sure?"

"Yes—please—"

He didn't need to be told twice. His next thrust came with enough force to make the headboard hit the wall, drawing a surprised moan from your lips. His hands found yours, fingers interlacing as he pinned them beside your head, using the leverage to drive into you with newfound intensity.

"Like this?" he asked, voice rough, eyes dark with concentration as he watched your face for every reaction. "This what you need?"

"Yes—fuck—just like that," you gasped, arching beneath him.

A particularly deep thrust had you crying out, and Armin groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck as his hips worked against yours.

"Missed this," he confessed against your skin, the words tumbling out between thrusts. "Thinking about fucking you again—couldn't focus on the project—kept remembering how you felt—"

You whimpered, the admission sending heat spiraling through your core. The idea of him daydreaming about this while working on those meticulous slides, wanting you while discussing celestial phenomena—it was both ridiculously endearing and intoxicating.

"Me too," you admitted, "got wet thinking about you in class, when you were sitting right next to me—"

Armin groaned, his hips stuttering before finding their rhythm again. "Yeah? While I was discussing Titan's atmosphere?" His voice was playful despite the strain, his lips curving against your neck.

"Especially then," you teased back, gasping as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. "Something about the way you talk about space—ah!—really does it for me."

He laughed, breathless and surprised, before pulling back enough to look at you. His expression shifted to something more serious, more vulnerable, as his pace slowed momentarily.

"I'm falling for you," he admitted quietly, the words hanging between you as his hips rolled in a slow, deliberate grind. "Not just this—though fuck, this is amazing—but all of it. You."

Your heart stuttered, warmth blooming in your chest that had nothing to do with the physical pleasure coursing through your veins.

Your heart swelled at his confession, but before you could respond, Armin's hips snapped forward with renewed vigor, stealing the words from your throat.

"But right now," he continued, voice dropping to a husky whisper as he picked up the pace, "right now I just want to make you come around my cock."

The filthy words from his usually proper mouth sent a shock of heat straight to your core. You watched, transfixed, as his lean muscles tensed with each thrust—the subtle definition of his abs contracting, the way his biceps flexed as he held himself above you. His golden hair, usually so neatly combed, now hung in sweaty strands around his flushed face, his blue eyes dark and unfocused with pleasure.

"Fuck," you moaned as he shifted, the angle changing just enough that the head of his cock dragged perfectly against your g-spot with every thrust.

"There it is," he murmured, a hint of smug satisfaction in his voice as he noted your reaction. "Found it."

He slammed into you harder, making the bed frame creak beneath you, each thrust precise despite the increasing desperation of his movements. The wet sounds of your bodies meeting filled the room, obscene and arousing.

"You're so fucking wet," Armin groaned, watching where your bodies connected. "Taking my dick so perfectly—shit—"

You whimpered at his words, clenching around him involuntarily, which made his eyes flutter closed for a brief moment.

Just as the tension was building, coiling tight in your lower belly, a sound from the apartment's entrance made you both freeze.

"Armin? You home?" Connie's voice carried down the hallway, followed by the distinct jingle of keys.

"Shit," Armin whispered, his eyes widening in panic. He glanced at the door—which, you realized with a jolt of adrenaline, neither of you had thought to lock.

Before you could process what was happening, Armin's hand clamped over your mouth, his body still buried deep inside yours.

"Yeah, I'm here!" he called back, voice remarkably steady despite the situation. "Just working on some stuff in my room. Don't—don't come in, I'm changing!"

His eyes met yours, a silent question in them—okay?—as he remained perfectly still, his cock pulsing inside you.

You nodded against his palm, heart racing with the thrill of nearly being caught. To your shock, instead of pulling out, Armin began to move again—slower now, more deliberate, his hips rolling in shallow thrusts that maintained the pressure against your sweet spot without making the bed creak.

"We brought pizza!" Sasha's voice called. "Extra pepperoni! You want some?"

Armin bit his lip, stifling a groan as you clenched around him again, the danger of the situation somehow heightening every sensation.

"Maybe—ah—maybe later!" he called back, his voice hitching slightly as you deliberately tightened around him. He shot you a warning look that only made heat pool lower in your belly.

"Suit yourself," Connie replied, his voice thankfully moving toward the living room. "We're gonna watch that new anime you were talking about. The one with the monsters."

Armin's hips stuttered at the mention, and you couldn't help but smile against his palm, imagining him trying to focus on serious conversation while balls-deep inside you.

"Go ahead!" Armin called, then lowered his voice to a whisper meant only for you. "If you make a sound, I'll stop."

The threat—not truly a threat given how desperately you both wanted this—made you shiver.

The moment he was satisfied his roommates were settled in the living room, Armin's hips snapped forward with renewed force, his hand pressing harder against your mouth. His eyes were wild, a mixture of arousal and danger as he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

"Gotta be quiet now," he breathed, his voice trembling slightly as he picked up the pace. "Can't let them hear how fucking wet your pussy is for me."

You whimpered against his hand, feeling yourself clench around him at the unexpected dirty talk. This was a side of Armin you'd glimpsed before—the way he'd whisper filthy praise against your ear when you sucked him off, how he'd gotten bolder with his words each time you hooked up—but never quite this raw, this uninhibited. His thrusts grew deeper, harder, the wet sounds of your bodies meeting seeming obscenely loud in the quiet room.

"Look at you," he continued, watching your breasts bounce with each powerful thrust. "Fuck, you're so perfect."

His free hand moved to cup one breast, thumb circling the hardened nipple before pinching it lightly, causing you to arch beneath him. Your muffled moan was captured by his hand, which pressed more firmly against your lips.

"Shh," he warned, but his eyes were dark with satisfaction at your reaction. "They'll hear you."

The position shifted slightly as he leaned more weight on the hand covering your mouth, his cock driving impossibly deeper. You could feel his heavy balls slap against your ass with each thrust, adding to the obscene symphony of skin against skin.

"You're dripping," he groaned quietly, glancing down at where your bodies joined. "Soaking the sheets, fuck—"

Despite his assertive words, Armin was falling apart above you—his composure cracking with each thrust. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he tried to stifle his own sounds. A whimper escaped him when you deliberately clenched around his length, his eyes squeezing shut for a brief moment.

"Do that—do that again," he pleaded, voice breaking slightly as you obliged, squeezing your inner muscles around him. "God—feels so good—"

His rhythm faltered briefly before he found it again, driving into you with precision that belied his trembling thighs and stuttered breathing. The head of his cock hit that perfect spot deep inside you with each thrust, sending jolts of pleasure up your spine.

You tried to say his name, the sound muffled against his palm as your hands clutched at his back, nails digging into the smooth skin. Armin hissed at the sting but didn't slow down—if anything, the pain seemed to spur him on, his hips snapping forward with increased fervor.

"You like this?" he whispered, sweat-dampened hair falling into his eyes as he looked down at you. "Like me keeping you quiet while I fuck you? While my roommates are right outside?"

You nodded frantically, eyes wide as pressure built inside you, coiling tighter with each precise thrust.

"Such a—fuck—such a dirty girl," he continued, voice breaking on a particularly deep thrust. "Getting off on this—on me—ahh—holding you down and—and fucking you while—"

He couldn't even finish the sentence, too caught up in the sensation. His expression was a beautiful mess—flushed cheeks, parted lips, eyes glazed with pleasure. When you clenched around him again, he let out a whine that he immediately tried to muffle by burying his face in your neck.

"Close," he gasped against your skin, his rhythm growing erratic. "So close—need you to—need you to come with me—"

His hand slipped from your mouth just long enough to slide between your bodies, finding your clit with practiced ease. The sudden stimulation made you gasp, and his palm clamped back over your lips instantly.

"Quiet," he reminded you, but the command lacked authority as his own breath hitched. His fingers worked your clit in tight, fast circles as his cock continued to pound into you, the dual sensation rapidly pushing you toward the edge.

"Come on my cock," he urged, words turning desperate as his control slipped further. "Want to feel you—feel you squeeze me—God—squeeze me when you come—"

Your orgasm hit without warning, crashing over you in intense waves as your body clenched rhythmically around his length. Armin's hand barely muffled your cry as pleasure flooded every nerve, your back arching off the bed.

The feeling of your walls pulsing around him was too much. Armin's hips stuttered, his rhythm faltering completely as he buried himself deep inside you with one final thrust. His whole body tensed, a choked whimper escaping his lips as he came, his cock throbbing within you as he spilled into the condom.

For a long moment, he remained frozen above you, trembling with the force of his release. Then, slowly, he removed his hand from your mouth, replacing it with his lips in a gentle, almost apologetic kiss.

"Sorry," he whispered against your lips, still catching his breath. "Got a bit... carried away."

You smiled, reaching up to brush sweat-dampened hair from his forehead. "Don't apologize. That was... wow."

A flush that had nothing to do with exertion spread across his cheeks, the shy, sweet Armin returning now that the heat of the moment had passed. The transformation was as endearing as it was fascinating—how quickly he could shift from filthy-mouthed confidence back to soft-spoken tenderness.

"Yeah?" he asked, a hint of uncertainty in his voice despite what you'd just shared.

"Yeah," you confirmed, pulling him down for another kiss. "Definitely wow."

Armin carefully pulled out, both of you wincing slightly at the sensitivity. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before climbing off the bed and padding to the bathroom. You heard water running briefly before he returned, condom disposed of and a warm washcloth in hand.

"Here," he offered softly, gently cleaning between your thighs with a tenderness that made your chest ache. When he was done, he tossed the cloth into his hamper and climbed back onto the bed, immediately pulling you against his chest.

His fingers combed through your tangled hair, pushing sweaty strands away from your face. "You okay?"

You nodded, nestling into his warmth. "Perfect."

Armin reached toward the nightstand, grabbing a half-empty water bottle and offering it to you. "Drink something."

You took a few grateful sips before passing it back, watching as he drank deeply, his Adam's apple bobbing with each swallow. The care in these small gestures was somehow more intimate than what you'd just shared.

After a comfortable silence, you traced a finger along his collarbone. "So..."

His eyes met yours, a hint of vulnerability in them. "So?"

"You said something. During." You bit your lip, suddenly shy despite everything. "About falling for me."

A blush immediately spread across his cheeks, but to his credit, he didn't look away. "I did."

"Did you mean it?"

Armin exhaled, his hand finding yours, fingers intertwining. "Yeah. I did. I am." His thumb stroked the back of your hand nervously. "Falling for you, that is."

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you smiled up at him. "Good. Because I'm falling for you too."

The relief that washed over his face was almost comical—like he'd been genuinely worried after everything you'd shared. His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

"Does that mean... I mean, would you want to..." he trailed off, then took a deep breath, forcing himself to meet your eyes. "Will you be my girlfriend? Officially?"

You couldn't help but laugh—not at him, but at the endearing formality of it all, asking you to be his girlfriend while you were both naked and sweaty in his bed.

"Yes, Armin," you said, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "I'll be your girlfriend. Officially."

His answering smile was brilliant, crinkling the corners of his eyes in a way that made your stomach flutter.

"Great," he said, voice soft but steady. "That's... really great."

A loud burst of laughter from the living room reminded you both that you weren't alone in the apartment. Armin glanced toward the door, then back at you.

"We should probably..."

"Join civilization?" you suggested, already reaching for your scattered clothes.

"Yeah," he chuckled, climbing off the bed and searching for his boxers. "Plus, there's pizza."

You both dressed quickly, stealing glances and sharing small smiles as you put yourselves back together. Armin ran his fingers through his hair, attempting to tame it back into something presentable while you straightened your clothes and checked for any visible marks he might have left.

When you finally emerged from his bedroom, Connie and Sasha were sprawled across the couch, an open pizza box on the coffee table between them and some colorful anime playing on the TV.

"Well, well, look who finally emerged," Connie said, giving you a knowing grin as he paused the show. "Thought you said you were changing, Armin."

Armin froze for a half-second, his ears turning bright red as he fumbled for words. "I was—I mean, we were just—"

"Uh-huh," Sasha smirked, grabbing another slice of pizza. "Changing."

Armin's shoulders straightened suddenly, his hand finding yours and lacing your fingers together. "Well, I have a girlfriend now, so..." he trailed off defensively, the statement hanging in the air like he wasn't quite sure where he was going with it.

Connie and Sasha were silent, amusement on their expressions at Armin's words.

"Yeah, I have a girlfriend now, so what does it matter if I change in front of her?" Armin challenged more confidently, chin lifting slightly despite the blush still coloring his cheeks.

Connie rolled his eyes dramatically, throwing a wadded-up napkin in Armin's direction. "Yeah, yeah, just rub it in our faces, why don't you? Some of us are still single and suffering."

But there was no real bite to his words, just good-natured teasing as he scooted over to make room on the couch.

Sasha couldn't seem to stop smiling, her eyes darting between you and Armin with barely contained delight. "About time," she said, pushing the pizza box toward you both.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Armin asked, guiding you to the spot Connie had cleared.

"Dude, you've been talking about her non-stop for weeks," Connie snorted. "Pretty sure Sasha and I could recite your astronomy project by heart at this point."

"That's not true," Armin protested weakly, but the way he avoided eye contact made it clear Connie wasn't exaggerating.

Sasha leaned forward, stage-whispering to you. "He's had a crush on you since like, the second week of class. It was painful to watch."

"Okay," Armin interrupted loudly, reaching for a slice of pizza. "Can we please just watch the show now?"

You couldn't help but laugh at his embarrassment, settling comfortably against his side as Connie hit play on the remote. The anime resumed—something about giant humanoid creatures that seemed equal parts fascinating and terrifying—but you found yourself more interested in watching the easy camaraderie between the three roommates.

Despite their teasing, it was obvious how much Connie and Sasha cared about Armin. The way Sasha would occasionally glance over with a soft, approving smile, or how Connie had immediately made space for both of you, accepting you into their little circle without question.

As the show continued, Armin's arm found its way around your shoulders, pulling you closer. You leaned into him, enjoying the warmth of his body and the comforting weight of his arm. His fingers traced absent patterns on your shoulder as he focused on the screen, occasionally leaning down to whisper explanations of characters or plot points you might have missed.

It felt natural. Easy. Like you'd always belonged here, nestled against Armin's side while his friends bickered good-naturedly over the last slice of pizza.

When Armin's phone buzzed with a text from Eren asking how the date went, he simply smiled, typing back a quick response before tucking his phone away and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"Good?" he asked quietly, and you knew he wasn't just asking about the anime or the pizza.

"Perfect," you confirmed, settling more comfortably against him as the next episode began to play.

646 notes · View notes

luvbugs-blog · 8 days ago

Text

in your orbit ꔛ armin arlert x reader

a/n: made the banner in 2 seconds on picsart myb 🫡👍 i usually dont fw the modern/college au for aot but nerdmin has so much potential :3 read part two here !!

words: 5.9k

cw: nerd!armin, college au, she/her pronouns and fem anatomy for reader, somewhat inexperienced armin #idk, armin is actually a nice person in this au, frat boy eren makes an appearance (obvi), armin gets drunk, reader gets drunk, SMUT!!, so drunk sex, mutual attraction, blowjobs, p in v sex, doggystyle, dirty talk, he whines and whimpers 😦‼️, MDNI !!

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

The rec center was lively, as it usually was this time of day. You checked your phone to look at the time—3:56 P.M. Would it be weird to go in 4 minutes early? You wondered to yourself, anxiety getting the best of you. Especially when you couldn't hear even the smallest sound come from the small study room, though you told yourself maybe it was a soundproof design.

Armin Arlert, one of your classmates and now a member of the group project you had been assigned, was the one to set this meeting up. The group project from your astronomy class was a semester-long task, given to you during syllabus week and not to be turned in until finals. Half of the semester had passed and you hadn't even really met the rest of your group members—aside from Armin.

The two of you hadn't really talked, though. You followed each other on Instagram now and you sat at the same table as him in class (along with a few other people you didn't really know). Aside from that, the guy was practically a stranger to you. But you couldn't deny how you admired him. He always raised his hand in class, never sounding too full of himself or annoying like other people typically sounded to you in lecture. He was also helpful if you ever had a question, especially because you hated going to office hours with professors you hardly knew.

Armin had texted the group chat he made with all the group members a week ago asking if everyone had availability that Friday. A couple people said yes while others just put a thumbs up emoji to react to his message. He didn't mind if they didn't show to the first meeting, really. It was individually graded and if they didn't have availability to meet Friday they could have said so.

You took a deep breath, trying your best to compose yourself before you knocked once and then entered the tiny study room. It contained one table with 6 chairs around it, a TV you could connect your laptop to, and a trash can off in the corner.

And it also contained only one person—Armin.

"Hey," you greeted with a smile, shutting the door behind you and seating yourself down in a chair across from him.

"Hi, you made it," Armin smiled, looking up from his laptop as you entered. "I was just setting things up so we all have access to the slides, just in case anyone wants to make changes."

You nodded, putting your bag on the chair next to you and taking out your notebook and your own laptop. Armin turned his screen slightly so you could see the Google Slides presentation he'd already started.

“So,” he began, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “the project is basically split into three parts. We each pick a topic from the syllabus—we're focusing on one planetary system or celestial phenomenon—and then tie it back to a central question or theme. I thought we could go with, like… how different environments in space might support life? It leaves a lot of room for interpretation.”

“That actually sounds really cool,” you said, surprised by how easily the conversation was flowing. Armin was easy to talk to—calm, thoughtful, never pushing too hard. “I was kind of thinking about Europa. Like, that moon of Jupiter? There’s been speculation that it could have an ocean under the ice.”

Armin’s eyes lit up. “That would be perfect for your section. I was thinking of doing something about Titan, Saturn’s moon. We could compare how the chemical compositions of each moon might influence the potential for life—or even just how scientists are studying them.”

The hour passed quicker than you expected. Armin’s presence, though quiet, was reassuring. The two of you bounced ideas back and forth, shared articles, and even got a little distracted googling strange facts about different moons. At one point, Armin laughed quietly at a meme someone had edited into one of Titan's photos, and you felt your shoulders finally relax.

“No one else showing up kinda worked out,” you said as you started packing up your things.

“Yeah,” Armin replied, unplugging his laptop from the monitor. “Honestly, I don’t mind. We got a lot done. I’ll just post our outline in the chat and if they don’t contribute by the next meeting, I’ll talk to the professor. He said we could document that stuff.”

You both walked out into the early evening sunlight, your backpacks slung over your shoulders as the automatic doors of the rec center whooshed open.

As you and Armin stepped outside, the soft warmth of the sun casting long shadows on the pavement, he glanced over at you with a relaxed expression.

“Got any plans this weekend?” he asked, shifting his backpack on his shoulder.

You sighed, a little amused. “My friend’s been begging me to go to this frat party Saturday night. I haven't been to one since my first week of freshman year."

Armin raised an eyebrow, a small grin tugging at his lips. “At Delta Sig?”

You blinked in surprise. “Yeah. Are you in that frat?”

He laughed—soft, a little disbelieving. “God, no. Not even close. But my friend Eren is. Our friend Mikasa and I usually end up at those parties to keep him from doing something insane.”

You tilted your head curiously. “So… you do go sometimes?”

“Sometimes,” Armin admitted, his tone casual. “Delta Sig almost got shut down, actually. They had, like, a ton of hazing violations documented over the past decade. I tried convincing Eren not to rush, but he did anyway. Even after I showed him an article about it online.”

You laughed. “Wow. That makes me feel so great about possibly going.”

He smiled, nudging your arm lightly with his elbow. “If you do end up there, try to find me, alright?”

“Yeah?” you asked, a little surprised by the offer.

“I’m not a big drinker or anything,” Armin said with a small shrug, “but I’ll probably be hanging around Eren and Mikasa, keeping them out of trouble. If you go, say hi.”

You nodded, a little smile growing on your face and a flutter in your heart at the idea. “Okay. I will.”

ꔛ

"I look like an idiot," you whined, eyeing yourself in the mirror as you looked over your outfit. As a freshman, you might've worn something like this to these types of parties, but now you weren't sure anyone should wear this kind of outfit. The top was so low cut and the jeans were just simply not it, you weren't sure if you were going for slutty or casual.

"Come on, you look great," your friend, Hitch, said. Her dirty blonde hair was neatly styled and she wore an outfit combination similar to yours—tiny top with jeans.

"We look like we're matching," you replied, but with no malice. That could be cute, you thought.

"Ugh, you're right. Be right back."

You glared at the back of her head as she turned to presumably go get changed. Your hair looked nice, and so did your makeup. The outfit felt dumb but it wasn't terrible. So why did you feel like throwing up?

"Armin really said to come find you?" Hitch asked when she returned with a grin and different outfit, bringing up the conversation you had in her car when she picked you up. Hitch seemed to be a frequent partygoer to this specific frat, and had met Armin a few times at these functions. When you brought it up in the car, she confirmed that Armin hardly ever drank and mostly stayed near Eren and Mikasa.

"Yeah. He's really sweet, so I didn't expect him to even go to these," you replied honestly, applying more lip gloss. "It wasn't a surprise when he said he doesn't drink, though."

"I'm sure you guys will really hit it off then. You even turned down my 'getting ready shots'."

You rolled your eyes, and soon you were on your way, taking the short walk towards Greek row where the party was presumably already in full swing—Hitch insisting on being late so you two didn't look lame waiting for people to show up.

ꔛ

Armin was a mess.

He didn't know why, or how, but in the hours leading up to the party he convinced himself he was awkward and weird for telling you to come see him. He even went to Jean and Eren and begged for advice.

He had so much trouble reading you, but he knew you were kind. And pretty. What he didn't really know was—well, everything else. Did you drink? What kind of clothes would you wear? Would you care that he didn't like dancing?

None of the questions made sense, but neithed did anything in his mind. Why was he this stressed over a party? He was practically the babysitter when attending, and it's not like he personally invited you. He just said you should come see him. God, was that even more weird?

Somehow, some way, Jean and Eren convinced Armin to take some shots. Three shots, actually. To "ease his mind" and to "calm his nerves" apparently.

Now, there Armin was in the back of Eren's car, finding the way the streetlights passed the window and the bass of the music electrifying. Everything was warm and fuzzy, and he felt his head spin the entire drive.

ꔛ

The music hit you before anything else—thick, throbbing bass that vibrated through the concrete steps leading up to the frat house. Red cups were already scattered across the yard, and the dim porch light revealed clusters of people smoking and laughing.

"This is going to be fun," Hitch said, linking her arm through yours. "Come on, let's find your astronomy boy."

You felt heat rise to your face at the nickname. "He's not my—"

"Yeah, yeah," Hitch interrupted with a knowing smile.

As you squeezed your way through the packed living room, the scent of cheap beer and cologne made your nose scrunch. Bodies were pressed together everywhere, dancing and swaying to music that was way too loud for any actual conversation. You were starting to regret coming when Hitch suddenly squealed and pointed toward the kitchen.

"There he is! Armin's over there with Eren and Jean."

You followed her gaze, and sure enough, there was Armin—but not the Armin you expected. His normally neat blond hair was slightly mussed, cheeks flushed pink, and he was... laughing? Not the reserved, thoughtful chuckle you'd heard in the study room, but a full, uninhibited laugh that made his whole face light up.

"Is he..." you trailed off, not quite believing what you were seeing.

Hitch's eyes widened with delight. "Oh my god, I think he's drunk! This is amazing. I've literally never seen Armin anything but sober."

You made your way over to the kitchen, Hitch practically dragging you. Armin was leaning against the counter, talking animatedly with two guys you assumed were Eren and Jean. He was gesturing with his hands, something about... constellations? It was hard to hear over the music.

When he spotted you, his eyes widened almost comically.

"You came!" Armin said with such genuine excitement that it made your heart do a strange flip. He pushed himself off the counter—a bit unsteadily—and made his way over. "I wasn't sure if you would. But you did!"

"I said I would," you replied with a smile, surprised by how endearing his enthusiasm was.

"Hey, Armin," Hitch said, giving him a little wave. "Looking good tonight! Where's Marlowe at?"

"Marlowe? Oh! He's out back, I think. By the beer pong tables." Armin seemed to remember his friends then, turning back to the two guys watching with amused expressions. "Oh! This is (Y/N)," he said your name with such care it made your cheeks warm again. "She's in my astronomy group. We're doing Europa and Titan and life possibilities and it's really cool. And she's friends with Hitch."

The shorter of the two guys—brown hair, intense eyes—reached out a hand. "I'm Eren. This is Jean." He nodded toward a guy with an undercut and a smirk.

"Nice to meet you," you said, shaking hands with both of them.

"You're in Armin's class? Good luck with that. He's been talking about space for the past hour," Jean said, but there was affection in his voice.

Hitch was already scanning the room. "I'm going to find Marlowe. You good here?" she asked you.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you assured her, secretly relieved to have an out from being around her boyfriend. Marlowe was nice enough, but he was so serious it made conversations feel like job interviews.

"Don't wait up," she winked, then disappeared into the crowd.

Armin was staring at you with an expression of pure fascination. "Your hair looks really nice," he said, the filter between his thoughts and words clearly compromised. "Like—like starlight. Did you know some stars have different colors? Red giants, blue dwarfs—"

"You're such a nerd," Eren cut him off, but ruffled Armin's hair affectionately. "Even drunk you're giving astronomy lectures."

"How much did you drink?" you asked Armin, unable to keep the amusement from your voice.

"Three shots!" Armin held up only two fingers, then frowned and corrected himself. "Only three. They said it would help with nerves. I don't usually drink." He leaned in conspiratorially, lowering his voice but still speaking loudly enough for everyone to hear. "I feel weird. Like my brain is swimming."

Jean snorted. "Lightweight."

Eren reached into a nearby cooler and pulled out a beer, offering it to you. "Want one? Fair warning, I think we've corrupted your study buddy."

You hesitated. You weren't planning on drinking much tonight, but Armin was looking at you with such hopeful eyes.

"Please?" Armin said, swaying slightly. "I feel like an alien right now. Everyone's having fun and I'm just... vibrating on a different frequency."

The way he said it made you laugh. "Okay, fine. One beer. Maybe three, eventually."

Armin's face lit up again as you accepted the beer from Eren. You popped the tab and took a small sip, grimacing at the taste. Cheap beer was still cheap beer.

"Well, now that Armin's in good hands," Eren said with an exaggerated stretch, "Jean and I are gonna go find Mikasa. She texted that she just got here."

"Wait, you're leaving?" Armin asked, a flash of panic crossing his face.

"Relax, we'll be back," Jean said, already backing away. "Besides, you've got your project partner now."

Before Armin could protest further, they disappeared into the crowd, leaving you alone with a slightly swaying Armin Arlert.

"They always do that," Armin said, leaning back against the counter for stability. "Leave me places."

"Looks like I'm on babysitting duty," you teased, taking another small sip of your beer.

"No, no," Armin protested, reaching out and nearly missing as he tried to touch your arm. "You should have fun too. Not just—just watch me being weird."

"Who says watching you being weird isn't fun?" you replied, finding yourself genuinely enjoying this uninhibited version of him.

Armin stared at you for a moment, then broke into a wide smile. "You're really nice, you know that? And smart. Your Europa idea was so good. I went home and read, like, three papers about it."

"After our meeting? I thought you said you were going to meet Eren and Mikasa."

"I did! But after. I couldn't stop thinking about the project. And..." he trailed off, that flush on his cheeks deepening.

"And what?" you prompted, suddenly curious.

Armin took a sip from his cup—soda, you noticed—and looked around at the party as if gathering courage. "And I was kind of hoping you'd come tonight. I don't know why. I just... wanted to see you outside of class."

Your heart did that strange flip again. "Well, here I am," you said softly, not sure what else to say.

"Here you are," Armin echoed, his eyes meeting yours with surprising clarity despite his intoxication. "Want to go somewhere quieter? I can't hear myself think in here, and I have so many thoughts right now."

You laughed, finding his honesty refreshing. "Lead the way."

Armin grinned and pushed himself off the counter, taking your hand with a boldness you suspected was alcohol-induced, pulling you through the crowded living room toward the staircase.

As you followed him, fingers intertwined with his, you found yourself thinking that this was definitely not how you expected your Friday night to go—but somehow, it was exactly what you needed.

Armin led you up the stairs, his hand still holding yours as you weaved through small clusters of people gathered on the steps. You were glad for his guidance—the house was a maze of narrow hallways, dimly lit and pulsing with the bass from downstairs. Finally, he stopped in front of a door and turned the handle, peeking in before ushering you inside.

"Jean's room," he explained, closing the door behind you both. The music instantly became muffled, a distant thumping rather than the overwhelming roar from downstairs.

The room was surprisingly clean for a frat house bedroom—minimal clutter, a neatly made bed, and even a small bookshelf in the corner. You glanced around, suddenly feeling like you were intruding.

"Should we be in here? I feel bad taking his room," you said, hovering awkwardly near the door.

Armin shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "He won't even need it until like 4 AM. Trust me. He's either going to be downstairs until everyone leaves or..." He trailed off, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Got it," you laughed, understanding the implication. You took another sip of your beer, feeling the pleasant warmth spreading through your limbs as you made your way to sit on the edge of the bed.

Armin joined you, leaving a respectful few inches between you. "Better, right? I can actually hear you now."

"Much better," you agreed, finding it easier to relax now that you weren't surrounded by sweaty strangers. "So... you really went home and read scientific papers after our meeting?"

His face lit up immediately. "Yeah! There was this one about the chemical composition of Europa's ocean and how it might compare to Earth's deep-sea hydrothermal vents. Did you know there are organisms on Earth that don't need sunlight at all? They just use chemical energy from the vents."

You watched him as he spoke, his hands gesturing enthusiastically, eyes bright with genuine passion. The alcohol had lowered his usual reserve, but it was still Armin—brilliant, thoughtful Armin—just with his thoughts flowing more freely. You found yourself drawn to this version of him, the slight flush on his cheeks and the way his hair fell across his forehead when he leaned forward.

"That's actually fascinating," you said, taking another long sip of your beer. You were starting to feel it now, that pleasant buzz that made everything seem warmer, more immediate. "So you think there could be something like that on Europa?"

"It's possible! That's what makes it so exciting," he said, shifting to face you more directly. "We're just beginning to understand how diverse life can be. The universe is so much stranger than we imagine."

You nodded, feeling a pleasant heaviness in your limbs as you leaned back on your elbows. "I need to catch up to your level of intoxication if we're going to have deep space conversations all night."

Armin laughed, the sound soft and genuine. "Trust me, you don't. I feel like my brain is both racing and moving through molasses at the same time."

"That actually sounds kind of nice right now," you admitted, finishing the last of your beer. The room had taken on a gentle, swaying quality, and you found yourself increasingly aware of how close Armin was sitting.

"Here," he said, reaching over to take your empty can and placing it on Jean's desk. As he moved, his shoulder brushed against yours, and you felt a small jolt at the contact.

When he settled back beside you, he seemed to hesitate for a moment before lying back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. You joined him, both of you lying side by side, shoulders almost touching.

"There are glow-in-the-dark stars up there," Armin pointed out quietly. Sure enough, faint green stars were stuck to the ceiling in no particular pattern. "Jean would die if he knew I told anyone. He says they were there when he moved in."

You laughed softly, still tipsy but feeling more sober now.

The dim glow from the ceiling stars cast a soft, ethereal light over Armin’s face as you lay beside him. The alcohol had settled warmly in your veins, making every sensation just a little more intense—the softness of the bed beneath you, the muffled bass of the music downstairs, the way Armin’s breathing had slowed into something deep and steady beside you.

You turned your head slightly to look at him, studying the delicate slope of his button nose, the way his eyelashes fluttered when he blinked behind his glasses. His cheeks were still flushed pink from the drinks, and his lips—soft, slightly parted—were just inches from yours. His hair, usually so neat, was tousled from the night’s chaos, falling in golden strands across his forehead. You had the sudden, overwhelming urge to run your fingers through it, to see if it was as silky as it looked.

Armin must have noticed you staring, because his eyes flicked to yours, and for a moment, the air between you stilled. His gaze was warm, hazy with alcohol but still so Armin, so full of quiet intensity.

Then, without a word, he shifted onto his elbow, leaning over you. His free hand came up, fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear with a tenderness that made your pulse jump.

You barely had time to process it before he was kissing you.

His lips were warm, slightly chapped, and tasted faintly of cheap beer and something sweet—maybe the soda he’d been drinking earlier. The kiss was soft at first, hesitant, as if he was still unsure if this was okay. But when you sighed against his mouth, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer, he deepened it with a quiet urgency that sent heat spiraling through your stomach.

His hand slid from your hair to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek as he kissed you again, slower this time, more deliberate. You could feel the warmth of his body pressing into yours, the way his breath hitched when you nipped lightly at his lower lip.

“Is this okay?” he murmured against your mouth, voice rough.

You answered by tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling him back down to you. He groaned softly, the sound vibrating against your lips, and suddenly his weight was pressing you into the mattress, his hips slotting between your thighs in a way that made your breath catch.

The kiss turned hotter, messier—his tongue sliding against yours, his hands roaming your sides, tracing the curve of your waist before settling on your hips. You could feel the heat of his skin through your clothes, the way his fingers flexed against you like he was holding back from touching you everywhere.

Armin’s breath was hot against your lips as he kissed you again, deeper this time, his tongue sliding against yours in a slow, filthy drag that sent a shiver down your spine. His hands were everywhere—tangling in your hair, skimming down your sides, gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks. You could feel the heat of him pressed against you, the way his body trembled slightly with restraint, like he was holding himself back from just taking what he wanted.

You arched up into him, grinding your hips against his, and he let out a broken groan against your mouth.

“Fuck,” he panted, pulling back just enough to look at you, his pupils blown wide with want. His lips were swollen, his cheeks flushed, and his voice was rough when he spoke again. “I—I wanna fuck you. So bad.”

The words sent a jolt of heat straight between your legs. You could feel how hard he was already, the thick line of his cock pressing insistently against your thigh through his jeans.

“Yeah?” you breathed, your own voice shaky.

Armin nodded, biting his lower lip as his hands slid under the hem of your top, fingers brushing against the bare skin of your stomach. “Yeah. God, you feel—you feel so good. Can I—?”

You didn’t let him finish. Instead, you unzipped your jeans and grabbed his wrist to guide his hand lower, past the waistband of your jeans, letting him feel the damp heat of your panties. His breath hitched, fingers twitching against you.

“Fuck,” he whispered again, voice wrecked. “You’re—you’re already—”

You cut him off with another kiss, sucking his tongue into your mouth as your own hands wandered lower, palming the hard bulge in his jeans. He jerked against your touch, hips bucking forward with a desperate little noise.

“You too,” you murmured against his lips, squeezing him through the fabric.

Armin shuddered, his forehead dropping against yours as he let out a shaky exhale. “Shit—shit—keep doing that—”

You did, rubbing him slowly, feeling him throb under your fingers. His breath came in ragged gasps, his hips rocking into your hand, chasing the friction.

“You’re so hard,” you whispered, biting at his jaw.

Armin whined, his fingers digging into your hips. “Because of you—fuck, I—I wanna fuck you—”

His hand slid back down, slipping beneath your panties this time, fingers brushing through your slick folds. You gasped, arching into his touch, and he groaned against your neck.

Armin’s breath hitched when you suddenly switched positions and pushed him back onto the bed, his chest rising and falling rapidly as you straddled his thighs. His cock strained against his jeans, the fabric damp with pre-cum, and his fingers twitched at his sides like he wasn’t sure if he should touch you or not.

“You—you don’t have to—” he started, voice already wrecked.

You silenced him with a smirk, taking his glasses off which were slightly fogged up and folding them to put on the nearby nightstand, then popping the button of his jeans and dragging the zipper down agonizingly slow. His hips jerked up, chasing your touch, and you could see the way his cock twitched under his boxers, desperate for relief.

“I want to,” you murmured, hooking your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and pulling them down just enough to free him.

Armin gasped as the cool air hit his flushed skin, his cock springing free—hard, leaking, and so fucking pretty. You licked your lips, watching the way his stomach clenched as you wrapped your fingers around him, giving him a slow stroke.

“Fuck,” he whined, his head falling back against the pillow.

You didn’t tease him any longer. Leaning down, you dragged your tongue over the head of his cock, tasting the salty-sweet pre-cum beading at the tip. Armin’s hips jerked, a broken noise tearing from his throat as you took him into your mouth.

It was messy—you were both still a little drunk, your movements sloppy and uncoordinated—but that just made it hotter. You sucked him deep, your tongue swirling around his shaft as you bobbed your head, spit dripping down your chin.

Armin was losing it. His fingers tangled in your hair, not pushing, just holding on for dear life as he whimpered above you. “Oh—oh God—your mouth—fuck—”

You hollowed your cheeks, sucking harder, and his thighs trembled under you. His cock pulsed against your tongue, and you could tell he was already close—his breath was coming in ragged gasps, his hips twitching like he was trying not to thrust up into your throat.

“I—I’m gonna—” he choked out, his voice high and desperate.

You didn’t let up. Instead, you took him deeper, your nose brushing the coarse blond curls at the base of his cock, and that was all it took.

Armin came with a broken cry, his back arching off the bed as he spilled hot and thick down your throat. You swallowed around him, milking him through it until he was squirming from oversensitivity, his hands weakly tugging at your hair.

“Too much—too much—” he whined, his whole body trembling.

You pulled off with a wet pop, licking your lips as you looked up at him. His face was flushed, his lips parted as he panted, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Armin’s chest heaved as he blinked up at you, dazed and wrecked, his cock still twitching against his stomach. His cheeks burned even redder as he stammered,

“S-Sorry—I didn’t mean to—fuck, I just—”

You cut him off with a kiss, licking into his mouth so he could taste himself on your tongue. He moaned, his hands gripping your hips like he was afraid you’d pull away.

“Don’t apologize,” you murmured against his lips, grinding down against his thigh, letting him feel how soaked you still were. “Just fuck me.”

Armin’s breath hitched, his cock already stiffening again at the words. His hands slid down to your ass, squeezing greedily as he nodded, his voice rough.

“Yeah—yeah, okay—turn around—”

Armin's hands trembled as he helped you turn around, his breath coming in ragged gasps against the back of your neck. You could feel the heat radiating off his body as he knelt behind you, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans.

"Fuck," he groaned, dragging the denim down your thighs inch by inch, his voice thick with want. "Look at you—fuck—your ass is so perfect—"

The cool air hit your bare skin as he peeled your jeans off completely, leaving you in just your soaked panties. His fingers traced the curve of your ass, squeezing lightly before sliding between your thighs, rubbing over the damp fabric.

"So wet," he murmured, his voice wrecked. He hooked his fingers into your panties next, pulling them down slowly, his breath hitching as your pussy was finally exposed to him. "I'm gonna fuck you so hard."

His thumbs spread you open, and you could feel his hot gaze raking over every inch of you—your swollen lips, the way you dripped for him, the way your ass arched back, begging for him.

"Hang on, okay?" He said quietly, and you felt the bed shift with his weight. Then you heard the unmistakeable sound of a wrapper being opened. "Don't ask why I know where Jean keeps his condoms. He... likes to brag," Armin said sheepishly, making you giggle as you heard him whimper slightly as he presumably rolled the condom on.

Armin’s fingers dug into your hips as he lined himself up, the blunt head of his cock nudging against your soaked entrance. He hesitated just for a second, his voice shaky with drunken lust and nerves.

“Fuck—I—I might not last, I’m sorry—”

But you barely heard him, because then he was pushing in, slow, that perfect curve of his cock hitting every sweet spot on the way. Your breath stuttered as he filled you, thick and throbbing, and a greedy moan tore from your throat before you could stop it.

“Oh fuck—” Your hands fisted the sheets, your back arching deeper, chest pressing into the mattress. “Yes—just like that, Armin.”

Armin groaned behind you, his hips stuttering as he bottomed out, his grip on you tightening like he was afraid you’d disappear. “You feel—fuck—you feel so good."

You clenched around him, and he whimpered, his cock twitching inside you like he was already fighting not to spill. But you didn’t care—not when he fit this perfectly, not when every ragged breath he took sent sparks through your veins.

Your fingers curled into the sheets, knuckles white, as you rolled your hips back to meet his shallow thrusts. The new angle let you feel him even deeper, and you gasped, your back bowing as a shiver ran down your spine.

Armin choked out a whimper, his hands scrambling for purchase on your hips as he bottomed out, his thighs trembling against yours. “Y-You feel—fuck—so tight—”

You grinned into the mattress, rolling your hips to take him deeper, and he let out a broken noise, his nails biting into your skin. He was already unraveling, his cock pulsing inside you, and you loved it—the way he couldn’t hold back, the way he was falling apart just for you.

Armin’s hips snapped forward with a desperate, sloppy thrust, his cock sinking deep into your dripping cunt as a broken moan tore from his throat. His hands gripped your ass, spreading you wider as he watched, his dick glistening with your slick as it disappeared inside you again and again.

“Fuck—look at you—” he panted, his voice wrecked, pupils blown black with lust. “Taking me so good—your pussy’s sucking me in.”

You whimpered, your fingers clawing at the sheets as his cock dragged against your walls, the curve of him hitting that sweet spot with every rough snap of his hips. Your vision blurred, pleasure coiling tight in your stomach as he fucked into you with unsteady, frantic strokes—like he was already on the edge, but needed to make you feel it too.

“You’re—ngh—you’re so tight—” Armin groaned, his hips stuttering as he tried to hold back. His cock twitched inside you, swollen and throbbing, his balls drawing up tight. “Gonna—gonna cum—shit—but I wanna make you feel it first—”

His hand slid around your hip, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing rough, frantic circles as he fucked you harder. You gasped, your back arching, your cunt clenching around him as pleasure sparked white-hot under your skin.

“There—right there—” you babbled, your voice shaking. “Armin—fuck—don’t stop—”

He whined, his thrusts turning erratic, his cock pulsing inside you as he teetered on the edge. “You—you like that? Like how I fuck you?” he slurred, his words dripping with filthy praise. “God, your pussy’s gripping me—squeezing my cock—fuck, I can’t—can’t—”

His hips jerked, his rhythm faltering as his orgasm ripped through him. He buried himself to the hilt with a choked-off moan, his cum flooding the inside of the condom.

You felt it—every twitch, every throb of his cock as he emptied himself inside you, his fingers still working your clit desperately, like he couldn’t stop even as he came.

“Fuck—fuck—” he gasped, his voice wrecked, his forehead dropping between your shoulder blades as he shuddered through the aftershocks.

You weren’t far behind. The filthy sound of him filling you, the way his cock kept twitching inside you as he panted against your back—it pushed you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed over you, your cunt clenching around him as you cried out, your thighs shaking, your nails digging into the mattress.

Armin groaned, his hips grinding weakly against your ass as he milked his own pleasure.

“Shit—” he mumbled, dazed, his voice slurred with booze and bliss. “You—you just came on my dick..." He pulled out, discarding the condom into a nearby trashcan.

You laughed breathlessly, your body still thrumming with pleasure as you collapsed onto the mattress beneath you. Armin followed, his chest pressing against your back as he nuzzled into your neck.

“You’re… really good at that,” you murmured, your voice hazy.

Armin huffed a drunken laugh against your skin, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your hip. “Yeah?”

“Yeah," you sighed, grinning as you felt his dick twitch against the skin of your ass.

He kissed your shoulder, his lips soft and sweet despite the filth that had just spilled from them. “...Wanna go again?”

You turned your head just enough to catch his gaze—his flushed cheeks, his messy hair, his stupidly pretty eyes—and grinned.

“Obviously.”

1K notes · View notes

luvbugs-blog · 8 days ago

Text

time ꔛ armin arlert x f!reader

a/n: first time writing straight smut i fear and it's also not proofread😿🙏‼️

words: 4.6k

cw: reader with fem anatomy, soldier!reader, friends to lovers, takes place a bit before s4, SMUT!!, pinv sex, fingering, confessions, MDNI !

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

"Hey, you're doing fine. Seriously," Armin said, hoping to calm your nerves as you practiced aiming at the cans off in the distance.

"I'm missing everything," you sighed in frustration, placing the end of the rifle on the ground in front of you. "How is it possible I even graduated from the 104th when I can't even aim?"

"You saw Connie yesterday, right?" Armin pointed out with a small smile.

"Yeah, but he eventually gets the hang of everything." You felt utterly defeated. For the past 3 days you were practicing with guns, the anti-Marleyan refugees supplying them and Commander Hange encouraging you all to find the time to practice with them. After all, now the battle wasn’t simply exclusive to fighting titans.

Armin had been sitting with you at the unofficial shooting range for nearly an hour now, and you've successfully knocked a whopping 5 cans so far.

You go on to miss another, causing you to sigh again dramatically. Armin stands, chuckling more to himself as he steps closer to you. "You're overthinking it," he states simply. You ignore him, shutting one eye as you aim. Armin covers his ears before you pull the trigger, grazing the next can with the bullet but not fully penetrating it.

At that point, you couldn't even sigh. It was getting ridiculous and quite frankly super annoying. Titans, whatever. They were big - a big, open target that was pretty much impossible to miss. Cans were another thing entirely, and you couldn't imagine being in a scenario where you were obligated to shoot at a moving, living being.

Armin takes one look at your pouting face and grins, trying to hold back a laugh in order to not make you feel worse than you already were. "Just relax," he says gently, reaching out and adjusting the posture of your shoulders before pulling away. "Don't squeeze the trigger too hard, either," he adds, covering his ears in preparation for your next shot.

You take a deep breath in, trying to relax your mind and body, before you pull the trigger. And what do you know? You still missed.

It took everything in you to not crash onto the ground and throw a tantrum, but your reputation would be in shambles if Armin saw. Not that he'd tell anyone, but it still took a lot of strength to hold yourself together and not completely crash out.

"It's okay," he laughs, taking the rifle from your hands. "Just give it time."

"What if I don't have enough time?" You ask, taking a few strides to the table to pick up a canteen of water.

He hadn't thought about it lately, but it all was dawning on him that time was very limited now. It could happen in an instant that something could change for the worst. With the knowledge of Marley and the impending war between the nation and your little island, it was tough to stay laid-back or even think of time as something unlimited. As a child, it was so easy to imagine time as something that never ran out. Here in the current situation, though, that wasn't really an option.

"I get what you mean," Armin finally replied, the silence thick between you two.

It seemed you both thought of things you haven't done yet, seen yet, or even said yet. And that feeling was nauseating, causing your own heart to swell and your mind swim with the thoughts of things you'd do if you had all the time in the world.

But you didn't. And that realization was panic-inducing, to say the least.

"Dinner's ready! Unless you two plan on starving out here!" The voice of Jean provided a momentary distraction, allowing you both to move on from that conversation.

You wait for Armin to start moving towards the mess hall first, then you fall into a stride beside him. "Well, if time's running out I better start hitting those stupid cans," you joke, making Armin let out a laugh.

ꔛ

The evening went on relatively normally after that. You sat with your usual friends at dinner and hung out near the training grounds for a bit before you all eventually decided to call it a night one by one.

You sat in your room at the barracks alone, your rank granting you a separate bedroom (which was just implemented largely due to all the new buildings seeming to sprout up all over Paradis). The setup was similar to a dorm, with a small cubic room to sleep in but shared bathrooms and shower spaces. It was nice and definitely an improvement to being forced to listen to Sasha's snoring every night.

A soft knock on the door made you perk your head up from the book you were reading. You stood up and walked over, only to be greeted by Armin standing on the other side.

"Hey," you said with a smile, "can't sleep?"

Armin, a grin instantly tugging at his lips at the sight of you in your pajamas, nodded in response. "Yeah. I have been staying up pretty late, though, recently," he added the last part almost shyly, as if to justify being up at the late hour.

You step out of the way after opening your door wider, allowing Armin to take a few strides inside. Your dorm was equipped with all the things a soldier might need to pass the time. A bookshelf next to your small bed and a desk in the corner with papers scattered along the surface. A dim lantern gave the room a warm glow and a cozy feeling, along with the dainty curtains that covered the window that were thin and soft but nice for the warming weather.

"I was just reading," you say, shutting the door. "Sometimes I miss the training days where all of us girls would stay up late talking, but also I could go without a lot of things from then."

Armin laughed, taking a seat on your bed and eyeing the book you were reading previously. "You're telling me. The boys' barracks were always full of surprises, often not good ones," he replied.

You dropped next to him, letting the silence begin to stretch and envelope around you two before Armin cleared his throat.

"Listen," he started, head turning toward you but eyes not meeting yours as if he was nervous. "I was thinking a lot about our conversation earlier," he admitted. "About... time. And it kind of scared me a bit, if I'm being honest."

You nodded, understanding what he was talking about. "I know, me too," you replied. "Who knows what'll even happen tomorrow, let alone years into the future? It's scary."

"Yeah," he agreed. "It got me thinking about things I put off doing because I assumed I'd have the opportunity to do them later. I always assumed these were things I would always have time for, but that's just not the case. With the lives we live, as Eldians and as soldiers, it's tough to say if we'll have time for anything."

The words hung in the air between you, carrying the weight of a truth both of you had been avoiding. You nodded slowly, understanding exactly what Armin meant.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is..." he hesitated, his voice faltering slightly like he was holding back. He paused, taking a deep breath as he finally turned to meet your gaze. His blue eyes, usually so calm and kind, were now swimming with a mix of fear and determination. "I'm done wasting time."

You blinked, momentarily stunned by the look in his eyes. "What do you mean?" You asked, eyes never leaving his.

"You know what I mean," he said, his voice a bit rough with nervousness and something else.

Your heart fluttered when the meaning of his words started to sink in. The vulnerability in his expression, the way his voice trembled ever so slightly, the way his fingers curled into fists on his knees as if trying to muster up courage—it was all so... Armin. And it made your heart ache.

"Armin, I..." you started, unable to really find the words to reply with anything else. Especially when he began to shift closer.

With a whisper of your name, his hands gently cupped your cheeks as he slightly leaned in as you felt yourself do the same. Before you could say anything else, his lips were on yours.

The kiss started soft, almost cautious, like he wasn’t entirely sure if this was okay. But the moment you responded, your hand slipping to the back of his neck to pull him closer, all hesitation melted away. It was like something inside him snapped, and suddenly the kiss was anything but cautious.

Armin kissed you like he had been waiting for this moment forever, like he was terrified it might be the only chance he’d ever get. One of his hands moved to hold you at the waist, his lips moving against yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

Your heart was pounding so loudly you were certain he could feel it. There was nothing gentle about the way he kissed you now, nothing reserved. It was desperate, heated, and filled with all the emotions he had been holding back for so long.

When his tongue slowly traced at your lips you were unable to decline, your mouth parting as it gently slipped inside to meet yours. Armin let out a soft sigh at the feeling of your tongue and lips, his grip on your waist tightening just a bit. Your fingers tangled into his blonde hair as you kissed.

Armin’s hands slid down from your waist, his fingers brushing over the soft fabric of your sleep shirt—thin, worn, and barely concealing the warmth of your skin beneath. His touch was teasing, exploratory, as if he was mapping every curve, every breath you took. His lips never left yours, though the kiss had slowed into something deeper, more deliberate, his tongue tracing lazy patterns against yours.

When his fingers grazed the hem of your shirt, he pulled back just enough to murmur against your lips, his voice rough with want but still laced with that careful consideration. "May I...?"

You nodded, breathless, and he didn’t hesitate any longer. His hands slid under the fabric, palms skimming up your sides, his thumbs brushing just beneath the swell of your breasts. He exhaled sharply through his nose, a quiet laugh escaping him as his fingers traced higher.

"No bra?" he murmured, his voice low and teasing, though his cheeks were flushed. "I mean... I get it. Comfort first." His thumbs circled your nipples, already stiffening under his touch, and he smirked. "But damn, is it convenient."

You huffed a laugh, but it dissolved into a gasp as his fingers pinched lightly, rolling the sensitive peaks between them. "Armin—"

"You okay?" he asked, though his hands didn’t stop, his touch alternating between soft caresses and firmer pressure, testing what made you shiver.

You nodded, biting your lip as his mouth left yours to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, down your throat. His teeth grazed your pulse point, and you arched into him instinctively, your fingers tightening in his hair.

"Good," he breathed against your skin, his hands sliding fully up to cup your breasts, kneading them with a slow, deliberate rhythm. His thumbs flicked over your nipples again, and he grinned when you whined. "I’ve thought about this. A lot. Way too much, if I'm honest. How you’d sound. How you’d feel."

His lips found the dip of your collarbone, sucking lightly before dragging his tongue over the spot, soothing the sting. One hand left your chest to trail lower, fingers dipping just beneath the waistband of your sleep pants. "Tell me if you want me to stop," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

You shook your head, your hips shifting toward his touch. "Please don't."

Armin laughed, low and breathless, before his hands slid further down into your waistband, fingertips tracing the curve of your thighs. "Then let me—" His breath hitched as his fingers dipped lower, brushing against the heat between your legs—only to pause.

His eyes flicked back up to yours, wide with disbelief. "...No panties, either?"

You grinned sheepishly, shifting just enough to press yourself against his hand. "They're uncomfortable, too," you protested.

Armin groaned, dragging his fingers through your slick folds with a shudder. "Fuck, you’re killing me." His touch was featherlight at first, teasing circles around your clit before dipping lower, just barely pressing inside.

"Armin—please—" You whimpered, hips rocking against his hand.

He kissed you again, swallowing your moans as his fingers continued their exploration. "You feel so good," he breathed against your lips. "Tell me what you want. I’ll give you anything. You know that?"

His words made your heart skip a beat. You instantly leaned forward, pressing your lips to his roughly as his fingers rubbed circles over your wet clit.

Armin’s breath hitched at your kiss, his fingers gliding effortlessly through your slick folds, each stroke teasing another desperate whimper from your lips. His thumb pressed firm circles against your clit while his middle finger teased at your entrance, dragging up and down in slow, torturous strokes before finally—finally—sinking inside.

"Fuck—" His voice was rough, his pupils blown wide with lust as he watched your face contort in pleasure, your thighs trembling around his hand. "You’re so tight…"

The first push of his finger was slow, deliberate, letting you adjust to the stretch before he curled it just right, rubbing against that sweet spot that made your back arch off the bed. His lips crashed back onto yours, swallowing your moans as he added a second finger, stretching you even further, his palm pressing firmly against your clit with every thrust.

His fingers worked you with relentless precision, curling and scissoring inside you, each movement sending sparks of white-hot pleasure up your spine. Your nails dug into his shoulders as your hips rocked against his hand, chasing your release with desperate, broken gasps.

His fingers curled inside you, dragging against your walls in slow, deliberate strokes, each one making your hips jerk against his hand. "Fuck, I can feel you squeezing me, (Y/N)... like you don’t want me to pull out."

You whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders as he added a third finger, stretching you just enough to make your breath stutter. His thumb circled your clit in tight, relentless motions, matching the rhythm of his thrusting fingers. The slick sounds of your arousal filled the room, obscenely loud in the quiet space between your ragged breaths.

"Come on," he urged, his voice thick with lust as he watched you unravel beneath him. "Let me feel it—let me feel you come on my fingers. Please."

And God, you couldn’t hold back any longer—not when he was touching you like this, not when he sounded so desperate for it. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your back arching yourself into him as you cried into his shoulder, your pussy clenching around his fingers in rhythmic pulses, soaking his hand with your release.

Armin didn’t stop—not even as you writhed beneath him, oversensitive and shaking. He kept fucking you through it, fingers still buried deep inside you, his thumb still working your clit until you were sobbing, your legs twitching with the aftershocks.

Only then did he finally slow, pressing a kiss to your parted lips as he pulled his fingers free—glistening with your arousal. He brought them to his lips, his tongue darting out to lick them clean with a low, satisfied groan, his cheeks flushed a deep red.

"Armin!" You scolded, embarrassment seeping in at the way he tasted you.

"I'm sorry, was it too much?" He asked softly, one hand placed gently along the curve of your hip, and his eyes full of consideration and care.

You shook your head, unable to resist anything about him when you saw just how much he cared for your comfort. Remembering him being here wasn't just about fucking, but because he was trying to tell you something without using words. Something you similarly felt, but were never brave enough to act on.

Your heart pounded wildly as Armin leaned down to press another tender kiss to your lips, his fingers brushing along your heated skin with a reverence that made your stomach flutter. "I'm sorry, I just wanted to taste you," he admitted softly, breath fanning against your mouth.

The words sent another rush of warmth between your thighs, but before you could respond, his hands were already moving—slowly beginning to unbutton his shirt. Your breath caught as he tossed it to the floor, revealing the lean, toned frame of a soldier who had long since shed the softness of his cadet days. His skin was marked with faint scars, the proof of battles fought and survived, but the way he looked at you—eyes dark with need, lips slightly parted—made him seem almost vulnerable in this moment.

His hands slid up your body, fingers tracing along your ribs before tugging at the waistband of your loose sleep pants. You lifted your hips, letting him peel them off slowly, his breath hitching as he revealed the bare, glistening heat between your thighs. "You're beautiful," he breathed, before he moved his hands to the waistband of his own pants.

Then, his pants slid down his legs, and your gaze dropped.

His cock stood fully erect, thick and flushed a deep red at the tip, veins running along the length of it. It wasn’t massive, but it was perfect—curved just slightly upwards, the head already glistening with precum as it twitched under your hungry stare.

You bit your lower lip, your fingers reached out, ghosting along the length of him—just once—before he caught your wrist, pressing a kiss to your palm before gently guiding you back onto the bed beneath him.

The weight of his body settling over yours sent a shiver down your spine, the warmth of his skin pressing against yours as he leaned down to capture your lips again. His hips rocked forward, the hard length of his cock dragging through your slick folds, spreading your arousal along his shaft in a slow, torturous glide.

He leaned in to kiss you slowly, savoring the taste of your lips, your skin, the way your body molded so perfectly under his. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, hands pushing your hair back and out of the way of your forehead.

"Mnh... and... you're so wet," Armin groaned, slowly sliding his erection through your dripping slit. His hand held onto his cock, guiding it as he rubbed the leaking head over your clit before pressing it down to drag it over your entrance. Up and down he teased you maddeningly with long sensual strokes, his shaft growing damp and slick from your juices.

Armin grunted as he continued to slide his cock back and forth between your glistening folds, teasing and stimulating your clit as well. "Oh, my God," Armin shuddered, his member throbbing almost painfully in his grip, the broad crown glistening proof of your arousal.

Armin couldn't stop thrusting his hips now, the tip of his cock fluttering just slightly as if trying to push past your entrance and dive deep into your tight heat. He fought the urge to simply drive forward and bury himself balls deep inside you. He wanted to do so badly to watch you come undone beneath him. But even so, he wanted to savor you. Savor the moment.

"Armin," you whimpered, thighs and hips trembling every time the tip nudged at your clit, feeling wetness still seep onto the flesh of his dick. "Stop teasing, please," you say, brows furrowed as he continued the torture.

"I'm sorry," he grinned sheepishly, his hips also twitching slightly. You knew he was having trouble holding back also, but if his goal was to just get you unbearbly wet, he was doing a pretty good job.

Your breathing grew heavier as Armin continued to torture you with the slow drag of his cock against your wet cunt, the swollen tip parting your folds to dip teasingly into your entrance before he retreated, the drag of his length through your slick an obscene sound in the quiet room. Each deliberate pass over your clit made you jolt and shudder beneath him, your thighs clenching around his hips as he stoked the desire building rapidly in your core to a fevered pitch.

With every pass, he pushed into you just a little bit deeper until the fat head of his cock finally caught on your entrance, stretching you open with tender slowness as he sank into your tight, gripping pussy inch by inch. Armin groaned at the feeling of your walls fluttering around him, so hot and slick and gripping his length tightly.

"Fuck...you feel incredible," he rumbled, his breath coming in hard pants now as he finally bottomed out inside you, every thick centimeter of him buried to the hilt in your grasping heat.

"Armin," you whined, earning a small smile from him.

"I know, baby," he said softly, composure barely holding on.

Armin captured your lips in a sweet kiss as he started to move, rolling his hips with deliberate slowness, letting you feel every drag and pull as he fucked into you torturously slow. It was different from how he'd touched you with his fingers, deeper and harder, more purposeful as each thrust seemed focused on hitting precisely that perfect spot inside of you that made your toes curl and your back arch clean off the bed.

"Feel good?" He asks, looking down at your flushed face and the way sweat began to gather at your forehead, his hand still pushing your hair out of your face as he fucked you.

"Mhm," you reply, hips rolling on their own to meet every thrust of his hips, driving his cock deeper inside of you. "Harder, please, Armin," you requested with a whimper, eyes meeting his.

"I've got you," he responded, then shifted his weight to pull you closer, impossibly closer, his arms holding you against him tightly. "I've got you, baby," he repeated, this time his lips grazing softly against your ear.

Then, his pace increased, and you had nowhere to go as he fucked you while holding you in a tight hug. "Armin!" You cried out against his shoulder, the feeling of his thick cock plunging into your dripping pussy again and again, the drag of his cock against your walls overwhelming as he fucked into you with an fervor that stole your ability to think. Your thighs trembled around his pistoning hips as he breathed into your ear, sweat starting to bead along his forehead as he drove himself deeper, harder into your body with each roll of his hips, chasing your pleasure and his own with single-minded focus.

"God—fuck—I've wanted this for so long," he groaned, his grip tightening around you as if he was afraid you’d slip away. "Wanted you... for so fucking long."

His thrusts were brutal, each one driving his cock so deep inside you that you could feel his hips slamming against your clit with every snap of his pelvis. But despite the rough, almost punishing pace, his words were tender—sweet—like he was pouring out every hidden feeling he'd ever had for you in between the filthy, wet sounds of your bodies moving together.

"You don't even—ah—know how many times I thought about this," he panted, his teeth grazing your shoulder before soothing the sting with a gentle kiss. "How many times I imagined fucking you just like this—holding you so close to me."

You whimpered, overwhelmed by the force of his thrusts and the raw emotion in his voice. His cock was stretching you so perfectly, hitting that spot inside you with every deep plunge, making your vision blur with pleasure.

"You feel so good," Armin grunted, his voice thick with lust and something deeper—something like love. "So good," he whimpered.

His hips stuttered as he adjusted his angle, fucking up into you with sharp, punishing rolls of his hips that made your toes curl. One of his hands slid into your hair, gripping gently but firmly as he forced you to look at him—his kind blue eyes burning with need, brows furrowed, his lips parted in pleasure.

"Tell me you feel it too," he demanded, his voice rough but pleading. "Tell me you've wanted this—wanted me—just as much. Please."

You could barely form words, your mind clouded with pleasure, but you managed a breathless nod, your nails digging into his shoulders as he fucked you through another wave of mind-numbing ecstasy.

"Say it," he urged, his cock twitching inside you as he felt your walls clench around him. "Tell me—fuck—tell me you're mine. Please say you're mine."

"I'm yours," you gasped, arching into him as the coil in your stomach tightened unbearably. "Always yours—fuck!"

Your climax crashes over you like a tidal wave, your entire body tensing as you cry out his name—"Armin!"—your nails raking down his back as your pussy clenches around him in desperate, rhythmic pulses. The pleasure is overwhelming, white-hot and all-consuming, and you cling to him like he's the only thing keeping you grounded as waves of ecstasy shudder through you.

Armin groans, his thrusts growing erratic as he feels you clamp down around him, your slick walls milking his cock mercilessly. "Fuck—fuck—I can't—" His voice is ragged, his hips stuttering as he fights to hold on, but the way you’re gripping him is too much. With a final, shuddering groan, he pulls out just in time, his cock throbbing as thick ropes of cum stripe your stomach, hot and sticky against your skin.

For a moment, all you can hear is the sound of your own breathing, harsh and uneven, mixed with Armin's labored pants as he nearly collapses on top og you, his body trembling with exertion. His arm shakes as he holds himself up just enough to avoid crushing you, his forehead pressing against yours as you both come down from the high.

Slowly, gently, Armin shifts to prop himself up on one elbow, his free hand reaching for his discarded shirt nearby. He cleans you up with careful, reverent strokes, his touch achingly tender as he wipes away the mess he made.

"Sorry," he murmurs, though the way he smiles tells you he's not that sorry. "Got a little carried away."

You laugh breathlessly, your fingers threading through his sweat-damp hair as he leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips. "I’m not complaining."

Armin smiles against your mouth before pulling back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes warm with affection. "Good." He shifts to pull the covers over both of you, tucking you against his chest as his fingers trace lazy patterns along your spine. "You okay?"

You nod, giving Armin a sweet kiss first to his flushed cheek and then his lips.

"I meant everything. I really like you. Everything about you," he says into your hair after you pulled away, holding you close and praying you'd say the same.

"Me too," you reply, letting yourself relax in his embrace.

309 notes · View notes

luvbugs-blog · 8 days ago

Text

crawl home ꔛ reiner braun x reader

a/n: spent way too long writing this bc i love reiner

words: 9.3k

cw: lowkey bff!jean, she/her pronouns and fem anatomy reader, soldier!reader, pre-timeskip friends/lovers, betrayal, forgiveness, reiner is pathetic, angsty, kinda serving friends to enemies to lovers, SMUT!!, oral (f!reader recieving), pinv sex, breeding, MDNI !!

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

Reiner was taller now, even if it was hard to believe. Maybe not as tall as Bertholdt was, but taller. Not only that, but while he maintained some of the more prominent muscles in his figure, it was noticeable how much weight he had lost. His hair was slightly longer - maybe he didn't keep up with cutting it as much as before. But to be fair, the change wasn't necessarily drastic. Not like the amount of facial hair he let grow out, which was completely ridiculous but so on brand for him.

But what did you care?

Your gaze lingered on him a moment longer, practically having to force yourself to look away from the man you swore was dead to you. But he wasn't, was he? He was standing right there, talking to Connie and Jean like nothing happened. As if the night prior Jean didn't literally punch him. Did they all just forgive him suddenly? Traitors.

You sighed. Maybe you were being dramatic.

The only thing you wanted to hear now was the sound of the water swishing beneath the boat, maybe even a seagull. But it was like you couldn't drown out his voice. It hadn't changed. It was exactly as you'd remembered it being about four years ago. Though, back then you swore you'd found it charming.

Odiha. That's where you were going, what you were focusing on, in order to service the flying boat that would help you and your fellow scouts reach the Rumbling, you needed to reach Odiha. To stop Eren. So why was Reiner's presence bothering you so much?

Reiner was your best friend at one point. When you first joined the cadet corps, it was obvious you were nervous to anyone who took a second to look. And for that, most people didn't see you as a potential reliable comrade.

Most people.

Reiner liked you. He had once playfully claimed you made funny faces during sparring exercises and took you under his wing, seeing your potential. Back then, Reiner had a talent for making anyone feel seen. Even stubborn cadets like Annie seemed to at least tolerate him, maybe even respect him.

So how could you not fall in love with him?

It was ridiculous how quick it happened. You were sure there were other girls vying for his attention just like you were, but you swore Reiner gave you special treatment. It was stupid.

Reiner would see you entering the mess hall and instantly make sure there was a spot open at his table for you. Bertholdt had typically sat across from him, but most of the time there was a spot directly next to Reiner conveniently available just for you. He'd call you by your last name over to their table, always a smile on his face, always so damn sure of himself.

"Bread?" He had offered, causing you to shake your head with a nervous smile on your face. Nervous. Not nervous enough, apparently. But that didn't matter—not when Reiner was offering you bread, or to train after hours with you, or take you into Stohess one weekend when you mentioned wanting a change of scenery.

"I know you wanted that muffin," Reiner said regretfully as you walked away from the bakery stall at the food market. "Sorry I couldn't get it for you."

You shook your head, mouth full from the cookie he'd already got for you just ten minutes prior. "It's fine, really," you assured him, words slightly muffled from the pastry.

Reiner simply smiled at you, taking a bite of his own cookie.

When you returned to Trost that evening as the sun was just beginning to set, the teasing from your comrades was relentless.

"Woah!" Connie had exclaimed, realization dawning on his face as he looked at you and Reiner entering the mess hall together. "Where've you been all day?" He asked, nosy as ever even if the answer was plain as day.

"A date. Is that really such a foreign concept to you?" Reiner had teased, making Connie grin mischievously.

A date. You had your suspicions that that's what it was, but Reiner hadn't explicitly said it. Not until Connie asked. The straightforward explanation made your heart race, gaze dropping instantly to your shoes as Connie's laughter filled the space.

"So that's why you've been polishing your boots and actually combing your hair. I was wondering what the special occasion was," Jean had said to you, his brow raised and arms crossed in a way that was so distinctly Jean. Despite the words, you were sure it was his own way of approving.

"Oh, my God, is that a hickey?" Sasha suddenly butt in, moving into your personal space. Her hands held your head in place as she stared at the scrape from training on your forehead.

"Hickey—what—Sasha, that's on my forehead!" You had defended, but it was too late. Multiple other cadets heard the word hickey and ran with it, causing a flurry of gossip surrounding you and Reiner. And Reiner didn't deny it. He just smiled at you, and somehow that made you feel better.

There were plenty of times he'd made you feel better. An embarrassing amount of times. A pathetic amount of times, considering what he might've been comforting you about.

You sniffled, attempting to straighten yourself out before dinner was served in the mess hall as you sat on a log on the outskirts of the training grounds, taking in the yellow and orange blend of sunset before you. Even with the view, your mind was elsewhere.

It hit you every now and then at random. Despite it happening almost five years ago, you had pushed the grief down as far as you could bury it when your family was killed during the breach of Wall Maria. You were so young when it happened, but suddenly you were alone. When the Armored had broken through the inner gate of the wall, your childhood home had been crushed by a stray boulder.

You were lucky. You came to terms with that at a young age. Far too lucky. It chipped away at you everyday since, even without you realizing. What made you so fortunate to have escaped? Avoided certain death like your family couldn't? What made that soldier step in and save you but not them?

The wondering was pointless, though. They died and you didn't. For some reason fate had kept you alive until now. And for that, you had to live with a purpose. Even if now that purpose was wiping your snotty nose and trying to compose yourself enough to go eat with your friends.

"Bread?"

You had looked up to see none other than Reiner holding out a small loaf, a second one for himself in his right hand. Hesitantly, you had taken it, using the moment Reiner sat down beside you to attempt to discreetly wipe at the tears on your cheeks.

He didn't ask. You supposed it wasn't his style, or maybe he just assumed you didn't want to talk about it.

Reiner simply took a bite of his bread next to you, leaning forward as he chewed. After moments of silence, Reiner looked at you for a second and then towards the sunset. The corner of his mouth tugged upwards into a soft, almost wistful smile, but he said nothing.

"What?" You finally asked.

He almost replied with "nothing," you could tell, but he sighed and leaned back, either hands at his sides resting on the log. "You know what I miss most about home?" Reiner asked, his gaze locked with the sky. "The way the sun would rise over the hills," he stated.

You realized you'd never talked about it—why you were crying that day. To be honest, you didn't want to. Something about his presence had just put you at ease back then, to the point you forgot all of your troubles.

When graduation drew near, you weren't even sure what Reiner's plan was. Everyone knew his perfect scores got him into the top ten, eligible to enlist as a military police officer in the interior. That would've been great for him, but you weren't sure where that left you.

You weren't with Reiner when the Collosal titan had appeared and breached the wall into Trost. But you were there when Eren was discovered to be a titan himself.

From there, something in Reiner had shifted.

Back then, you figured it was realization of some sort. Realization that things were complicated, things were scary, things were real...

Things got even more real when Marco died. Marco wasn't someone you were close with, but he was always there, always kind. If someone as capable as Marco, as determined, as strong, as kind as Marco could die, what would that mean for you and your friends?

Many cadets dropped out that day, despite graduation being so close. You almost did as well. Especially upon seeing Jean's reaction to Marco's death, you didn't know if you had the guts to continue.

But Reiner always had to step in.

"You're stronger than you give yourself credit for," he said, his strong hand on your shoulder. "Look at me," he commanded softly. You hesitated but met his eyes. They were serious, and almost cold now. Different from how they used to look at you. "I know you've got what it takes."

And that was that. Along with Jean, who was sure he'd join the military police, you joined the Survey Corps, falling under the wing of the Commander Erwin Smith.

You were terrified, but you had Reiner.

Things in your lives seemed to come to a halt when Annie was revealed to be a titan. And then Ymir, along with Krista being some kind of royalty and living with a completely different name—Historia.

It was all confusing and overwhelming, and you really wished Reiner was there for you. And he was, physically, always there. But then he was distant. Even when sitting directly beside you during meals like he did before, his focus was obviously elsewhere.

And then it happened.

You revisited that day often. When Reiner and Bertholdt transformed, and everything you thought you knew came crashing down.

You couldn't even cry, or scream, or do much of anything. You'd learned a long time ago to accept these things, but God did it hurt.

Then he was gone. He and Bertholdt, back to wherever they came from—their "hometown" as they so often called it. You didn't know back then, and you'd honestly stopped caring.

When Eren was rescued from them, he tried telling you on the way back what Reiner had said in response to him screaming at them. Eren had brought you up, telling Reiner about all the pain and trauma you endured years ago when the inner gate of Wall Maria was broken and your family was killed.

Sorry. Sorry was what he said, according to Eren.

What a coward.

The next time you saw Reiner was a few months later. But it wasn't really him. It was the Armored titan, the same one you remember from childhood who had breached the wall. And now here you were, back in Shiganshina with your fellow scouts.

The bloodshed was monumental in Shiganshina. Bertholdt had died, but Reiner lived—barely. You weren't there when Hange and Jean had captured him. And you were grateful you weren't. Just three months after discovering his true self, you knew you'd do something stupid like let him go if you had been there. But that part wasn't really up to you, and he got away regardless.

That's when you discovered the truth of everything. The titans, the walls, Paradis, Eldians.

You wished you could hate him. But everyday you'd hoped for the day you could speak to him again, just once.

Those feelings seemed to have formed into anger as the years passed. And by the time you and your fellow soldiers raided Liberio, you basically lived in a shell. You promised your comrades you weren't going to allow feelings to get in the way, and you delivered.

So much happened in such a short amount of time it was difficult to even remember it properly.

You remembered seeing him—really him—for the first time again on Paradis. He was almost pathetic looking now, but a part of your heart still yearned for him.

Were the feelings even the same, though?

You and the rest of the scouts had to compromise and join forces with the Warriors in order to put a stop to Eren's plan to go through with the Rumbling. It was the first night that Jean brutally punched Reiner at the campfire. Years ago, you might've blindly taken the side of Reiner. Hell, if he said a word to you since being back on the island maybe you would've defended him. But he didn't. So you let it happen.

When the kids, Gabi and Falco, rushed to Reiner's side after the altercation, you felt as though you needed to physically drag yourself away to avoid saying anything to him.

Instead, you found Jean, cooling off in the outskirts of the woods. His head was in his hands, leaning against a tree as he shook.

You placed a gentle hand on his arm, causing him to jump. You made eye contact, but he was quick to look away. Though, your small touch grounded him.

"Sorry about that," Jean apologized. "I got carried away." His voice was breaking, you'd noticed, but you shook your head.

"Don't apologize," you replied.

You made a choice that evening. The choice to stay loyal to your comrades instead of blindly following Reiner like you did when you were a dumb kid. But it didn't make it any less difficult when he stood there on the boat looking almost like he had years ago.

The expression on his face was that of determination. And the people at his side were none other than Jean and Connie.

You scoffed, pulling your gaze away from the men and staring off into the vast ocean—the ocean you didn't even knew existed years ago; the ocean Reiner didn't bother mentioning to you those nights you sat together for hours.

You'd gone over every emotion the past four years. You saw his side as best you could. Even so, it was hard to forgive. Especially when Reiner himself hadn't made an effort to speak to you.

"Hey." You didn't look up, you knew it was Jean.

"You gonna talk to loverboy or what?" He asked after a beat of silence. You finally lifted your head to shoot him a glare. Jean simply smiled, looking back at where Reiner and Connie were still talking and then back to you, sitting beside you on the bench.

You remained quiet for a moment after Jean sat beside you, your fingers absently picking at a loose thread on your sleeve. The gentle rock of the boat beneath you seemed to match the churning in your stomach.

"I'm not talking to him," you finally said, keeping your voice low despite the distance between you and the others.

Jean snorted. "Right. Because ignoring him is working so well for you."

You shot him another glare. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You've been staring at him every chance you get since yesterday." Jean's knowing smile widened as your cheeks flushed with heat. "Don't worry, he's been doing the same thing."

Something fluttered in your chest at his words, but you quickly tamped it down. "Has he... said anything?" The question slipped out before you could stop it, your voice smaller than you intended.

Jean chuckled, that same knowing look in his eyes that made you want to shove him off the bench and into the sea. But then his expression softened.

"No," he admitted. "But it's getting annoying watching you two dance around each other like this. You look at him when he's not looking, he looks at you when you turn away. It's really embarassing for both of you."

You sighed, turning your gaze back to the endless blue horizon. The vastness of the ocean still amazed you, even now. "Well, if he wanted to talk, he would've said something by now."

"Maybe he's thinking the same thing about you," Jean pointed out.

"That's different," you protested weakly.

"How?"

You opened your mouth to respond but found you didn't have an answer that wouldn't sound childish. Jean was right, and you both knew it.

"Look," Jean said, his voice gentler now, "I'm not exactly Reiner's biggest fan. You were there when I..." He flexed his hand, the same one he'd used to punch Reiner the night before, his knuckles reddened now. "But we're all stuck here together now. And whatever was between you two—"

"There was nothing between us," you interrupted, the lie bitter on your tongue.

Jean gave you a flat look. "You're a terrible liar. Always have been."

You looked down at your hands, suddenly finding your fingernails fascinating. "It doesn't matter now anyway."

"Maybe not," Jean agreed. "But you're never going to stop wondering if you don't at least talk to him once. Really talk to him."

The silence between you stretched for several long moments as you considered his words. The rational part of you knew he was right. This tension, this unspoken thing hanging in the air between you and Reiner, it would only continue to distract you. And with what lay ahead—with Eren and the Rumbling—you couldn't afford distractions. And more importantly, you didn't want to die with regrets.

"Fine," you muttered, standing up with a resigned sigh.

Without waiting for some type of reaction from Jean, you turned and made your way across the deck toward where Reiner and Connie stood. Your heart hammered against your ribs with each step, and you briefly considered turning back. But Jean's words echoed in your mind—you would never stop wondering if you didn't at least try.

Connie noticed you first, his animated conversation with Reiner faltering as you approached. Reiner turned, and for a moment, you were transported back to those days in the mess hall—him turning to call your name, saving you a seat beside him.

But his eyes weren't the same. They carried a weight now, dark shadows beneath them speaking of sleepless nights and unshakable guilt.

"Um, I'll just..." Connie mumbled, already backing away, but you barely registered his departure.

You stopped a few feet from Reiner, suddenly unsure what to say. All the anger, all the hurt, all the things you'd rehearsed in your head over the years—none of it seemed right now that he was standing in front of you.

"Can we talk?" The words came out steadier than you felt.

Reiner looked surprised, as if that was the last thing he expected to hear from you. He nodded once, hesitantly. "Yeah. Of course."

You nodded, and without another word, turned to lead the way to the stairs. You could feel his presence behind you as you descended into the dimly lit interior of the ship, the wooden steps creaking beneath your weight. The air was cooler here, tinged with the scent of salt and damp wood.

The sleeping cabins were arranged in a narrow corridor, small compartments with barely enough room for the bunks they contained. Most were empty now, with everyone gathered on the upper deck to watch the endless expanse of ocean passing by. You chose one at random, pushing open the door and stepping inside.

The room was tight, with just enough space for two narrow bunks built into the walls and a small porthole that cast a circle of fading evening light across the wooden floor. You sat on one of the bunks, the thin mattress sinking beneath your weight. Reiner hesitated at the doorway for a moment before entering and sitting on the opposite bunk, the space between you barely more than an arm's length but feeling like an unbridgeable chasm.

Reiner's shoulders hunched slightly, his large frame somehow seeming smaller in the confined space. His eyes darted around the cabin before finally settling on his hands, which were clasped tightly in his lap.

You found yourself remembering another small space you'd shared once, years ago during a thunderstorm. The supply shed had been the closest shelter when the rain had caught you both during evening training. You'd sat side by side on crates of gear, listening to the rain hammer against the roof, shoulders touching as Reiner told stories about his hometown to distract you from the thunder. And you remembered how you felt when he held your hand, the way his touch was so gentle, his fingers lacing with yours. Back then, his voice had been warm, his smile easy, his eyes bright with something that made your heart race.

Now, he sat across from you, silent and tense, his gaze fixed on the floor between your feet. The only sound was the creaking of the ship around you and the distant, muffled voices from above.

The silence between you stretched until it became unbearable. Your fingers dug into the thin mattress beneath you, knuckles turning white with the pressure.

"My family is dead because of you," you finally said, your voice quiet but sharp enough to cut through the heavy air. The words hung there, raw and unavoidable. "Every time I look at you, I see that day. The Armored Titan breaking through the gate. The boulder that crushed our home."

Reiner didn't flinch, didn't look away. He just nodded slowly, his eyes hollow. "I know."

"You know?" A bitter laugh escaped your lips. "That's all you have to say? You know?"

"What do you want me to say?" His voice was flat, resigned. The voice of a man who had already condemned himself a thousand times over.

"I want you to say something—anything—other than 'I know,'" you snapped, the anger you'd been holding back finally beginning to surface. "I want you to explain how you could sit with me that day by the training grounds, offering me bread while I cried about my family, knowing it was you who killed them."

Reiner's gaze dropped to the floor again. "I don't have an explanation that would make any sense to you."

"Try me," you challenged, leaning forward. "I've had four years to think about this, Reiner. Four years to try to understand."

He looked up then, and the defeated emptiness in his eyes almost made you recoil. This wasn't the Reiner you remembered—the strong, confident soldier who always seemed to know what to say, what to do. This was a shell of that man, worn down by guilt and grief.

"I compartmentalized," he said after a long moment. "The Warrior and the Soldier. Sometimes, I... I forgot which one was real."

"And which one was it?" you asked. "Which version of you was real, Reiner?"

He shook his head slowly. "I don't know anymore. Maybe neither."

You stood up abruptly, unable to sit still with the storm of emotions churning inside you. The cabin was too small to pace properly, but you moved to the porthole, looking out at the darkening sky without really seeing it.

"Do you have any idea what your betrayal did to me?" Your voice was quieter now, but no less intense. "It wasn't just that you were the Armored Titan. It was that you were you. Someone I..." You swallowed hard, forcing the words out. "Someone I cared about. A lot."

You heard the bunk creak as Reiner shifted his weight but didn't turn to look at him.

"I nearly quit the Scouts after you left," you continued, watching your breath fog the glass of the porthole. "I couldn't understand how I could have been so wrong about someone. How I could have trusted you so completely."

Your fingertips pressed against the cool glass as memories flooded back—training together in the rain, his hands adjusting your grip on the ODM gear controls, his laughter at your terrible jokes, the way his eyes would find yours across the mess hall.

"And it wasn't just you," you said, your voice growing thick with unshed tears. "I haven't been able to truly trust anyone since. Not completely. There's always this voice in the back of my mind asking if they're hiding something too. If they'll betray me just like you did."

"I'm sorry," Reiner said, his voice barely audible.

You whirled around to face him, anger flaring hot and bright. "Sorry doesn't bring my family back! Sorry doesn't erase the fact that you lied to me for years! Sorry doesn't change the fact that every memory I have of us is tainted now because I don't even know if any of it was real!"

"It was real," Reiner said, standing up now, something finally sparking in his eyes. "That's what you don't understand. It was all real for me too."

"How could it be real when it was all built on a lie?" Your voice rose, echoing in the small space.

"Because I didn't know how to separate the lie from the truth anymore!" He took a step toward you, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. "Do you think this has been easy for me? Do you think I just walked away and forgot about all of you—forgot about you?"

You stared at him, momentarily stunned by the sudden emotion in his voice.

"I've thought about you every single day since then," he continued, his voice breaking. "I see your face in my dreams. I hear your voice when it's quiet. You've been haunting me for four years, and I deserve it."

The raw pain in his voice knocked the breath from your lungs. Tears spilled down your cheeks as you stared at him, really seeing him for perhaps the first time since you'd learned the truth—not as the Armored Titan, not as the Warrior, not even as the Soldier, but as Reiner. Just Reiner, broken and haunted and so very human.

"I know you hate me," he said, quieter now, his own eyes shining with unshed tears. "You should hate me. If I could go back and change what I did..."

"But you can't," you whispered.

"No," he agreed. "I can't."

The admission hung between you, simple and devastating in its truth. You couldn't change the past. Your family was still gone. The walls were still broken. And Reiner—your Reiner—had still been the one to do it.

But the man standing before you now, shoulders slumped under the weight of his actions, eyes filled with a pain that mirrored your own—he wasn't the Armored Titan anymore. He was just as broken as you were.

Then suddenly you moved, your arms wrapping around his waist, your face pressed against his chest as sobs wracked your body. You could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady against your cheek, so at odds with the broken man it belonged to.

For a terrible second, he remained frozen, and you thought you'd made a mistake. Then his arms came around you, tight and desperate, one hand cradling the back of your head as he buried his face in your hair. His body trembled against yours, and you realized he was crying too—silent, shuddering sobs that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside him.

The stubborn shame that had kept you both at arm's length dissolved in the salt of your mingled tears. There, in the dim light of the cabin, with the gentle rocking of the ship beneath you and the uncertain future ahead, you held each other like the last two survivors of a shipwreck—broken, exhausted, but somehow still alive.

You weren't sure how long you stayed like that, holding each other in the dim light of the cabin, your tears gradually subsiding into uneven breaths. His arms around you felt both familiar and foreign—the shape of him changed, but the way he held you still the same.

When you finally pulled back, just enough to look up at him, your faces were inches apart. Your hands had somehow moved to his shoulders, feeling the unfamiliar angles where muscle had once been. His eyes, red-rimmed from crying, searched yours with a question he didn't dare voice.

"I still hate what you did," you whispered, your voice hoarse. "I don't know if I can ever forgive that."

Reiner nodded slightly, accepting your words without defense. One of his hands had found its way to your face, his thumb gently brushing away a tear from your cheek.

"But I don't know how to hate you," you admitted, the confession tearing itself from somewhere deep inside you. "I've tried for four years, and I just... can't."

Something flickered in his eyes—a spark of something you hadn't seen since before everything fell apart. Hope, maybe. Or longing.

You weren't sure who closed the distance. Maybe both of you, drawn together like the inevitable pull of gravity. His lips found yours in a kiss that was hesitant at first, as if he expected you to push him away. When you didn't—when instead you pressed closer, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt—the hesitation gave way to a desperate need that matched your own.

Reiner's arms tightened around you, backing you against the wall beside the porthole. The cool glass pressed against your shoulder, a stark contrast to the heat of his body against yours. His kiss deepened, years of unspoken feelings pouring into it as his tongue met yours.

You gasped against his mouth, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair, longer now than you remembered. The scrape of his beard against your skin was new, and your heart skipped a beat at the way his breath hitched when you tugged gently at his hair.

When you pulled away again, breathless, his eyes were dark with a mixture of desire and pain. "I shouldn't be doing this," he whispered, even as his thumb traced circles on your hip. "After everything I've done..."

"Shut up," you murmured, pulling him back to you. "Just shut up, Reiner."

He made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob against your lips. "Still stubborn," he breathed.

Your hands tangled in his hair, eyes squeezed shut as you took in the feel of him. You were desperate, you knew. You felt pathetic, but you wanted him. Needed to be close to him.

"It's embarrassing how long I've wanted to do this," you murmured against his lips, your voice barely audible over the sound of your racing hearts.

His forehead pressed against yours, his eyes closed as he took an unsteady breath. "When we were back in training, that day in Stohess..." His voice was rough, trailing off as your lips found the curve of his jaw.

"Why didn't you kiss me then?" you asked, the question muffled against his skin.

Reiner's laugh was soft and broken. "I wanted to. Every second we were together." His hands slid down to your waist, anchoring you against him as if afraid you might disappear. "I told myself it was because of the mission. That I couldn't get distracted."

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, your hand coming up to touch his face, feeling the unfamiliar texture of his beard beneath your fingertips. "And the real reason?"

He swallowed hard, his gaze dropping for a moment before meeting yours again. "I was afraid that if I started, I wouldn't be able to stop. That I'd tell you everything." The admission seemed to cost him, his voice barely above a whisper. "And then you'd hate me."

"I did hate you," you said quietly. "When I found out."

His eyes clouded with pain, but he nodded. "I know."

You leaned in, brushing your lips against his again, more gently this time. "But I hated myself more for still wanting this. For still wanting you."

Reiner's response was to kiss you again, deeper this time, his body pressing yours more firmly against the wall. One hand tangled in your hair while the other gripped your hip, his touch both gentle and desperate. You could taste the salt of tears—whose, you weren't sure anymore—and something else, something uniquely him that you had tried so hard to forget.

The ship rocked with a stronger wave, causing you both to sway. Reiner's arm tightened around your waist, steadying you, and for a brief moment, you were back in the training grounds, his arms around you as he corrected your stance, his breath warm against your ear.

"I missed you," he breathed against your mouth, the words so quiet they might have been imagined. "Every day."

You didn't answer with words. You couldn't. The anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface, alongside grief and betrayal and a hundred other emotions you couldn't name. But for now, in the dim light of the cabin with the sea stretching endlessly around you, you let yourself remember what it felt like to be in his arms.

Your lips found his again, harder this time, your teeth catching his lower lip in a way that made him groan. His hands tightened on you in response, lifting you slightly as he pressed you more firmly against the wall. The kiss deepened, grew more urgent, years of longing and hurt and need pouring into it.

The world outside—Eren, the Rumbling, the fate that awaited all of you—seemed distant and unreal compared to the solid warmth of Reiner against you, the familiar-yet-different taste of his mouth, the sound of his ragged breathing mingling with your own.

This wasn't forgiveness. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But as his lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, tracing a path that made your breath catch, you realized it might be something like a beginning. A chance to finally confront all the things left unsaid between you, all the hurt and the betrayal, but also all the moments that had been real.

Reiner’s hands slid down your sides, fingers digging into your hips as he kissed you with a desperation that made your knees weak. The rough scrape of his beard against your skin sent shivers down your spine, and when his teeth grazed your bottom lip, you gasped—only for him to swallow the sound with another searing kiss.

This isn't at all how you expected your "talk" to go. Years of rehearsing different scripts in your head about how you'd tell him you hate him when you saw him, how you'd show him how it felt to feel betrayed and alone... All of those came crumbling down when he touched you like this, so gently but also so needy.

Not that the idea in general hadn't crossed your mind an embarrassing and pathetic amount of times. That, you couldn't deny. Since your cadet days you'd wondered what it would feel like with him, hoping he'd make a move. But he never did. Your heart skipped a beat when you felt the sadness well up inside you again, but that feeling quickly went away when he tilted his head to better kiss you.

His body pressed you harder against the wall, the heat of him searing through your clothes. You could feel the evidence of his arousal against your thigh, and the knowledge of how badly he wanted you—after all this time—sent a thrill through you.

Then, without warning, he broke the kiss, his breath ragged. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, lips swollen from yours.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured, voice rough.

You didn’t.

A low sound escaped him, something between a groan and a growl, before his hands tightened on your waist—and then he was lifting you, turning, and depositing you onto the narrow bunk behind you in one swift motion. The thin mattress barely cushioned the impact, but you barely had time to register it before Reiner was on his knees between your legs, his hands sliding up your thighs with a reverence that made your breath hitch.

His gaze flicked up to yours, searching, hesitant—like he still couldn’t believe you were letting him touch you.

"Please," he breathed, fingers curling into the fabric of your pants. "Let me taste you."

The raw need in his voice sent a jolt straight to your core. He was begging. Reiner—the man who had once been so confident, so sure of himself—was now on his knees for you, looking up at you like you were the only thing that could save him.

You swallowed hard, your pulse hammering in your throat. You also didn't expect it to go like this. The Reiner that you knew back then presented himself to be some kind of big leader, something you admired because of how he never seemed to let it go to his head. He was one of the strongest, but he was humble.

So seeing him like this, desperate between your legs, felt almost like culture shock.

But even so, being with him, feeling him, talking to him all felt so good. So good you could cry. "Okay," you breathed, nodding.

His fingers trembled slightly as he undid the fastenings of your pants, tugging them down your legs along with your underwear. Your cunt was already pathetically wet just from making out, and suddenly you just wanted to close your legs so he wouldn't see how much he affected you. Stubborn pride still warred inside you even now. The cool air of the cabin ghosted over your exposed skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of Reiner’s breath as he leaned in, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, making your heart swell.

Reiner’s hands spread your thighs wider, his thumbs brushing over the damp curls between them. His breath stuttered when he saw how wet you were, his fingers tracing your folds with agonizing slowness.

“Fuck,” he muttered, voice wrecked.

He kissed at your inner thighs some more, almost like he just couldn't get enough of the simple action. He'd lick at them, suck them, anything. Reiner was willing to drag this out, it seemed.

"Has anyone ever done this for you before?" Reiner asked, his tone carrying a mix of emotions, staring up at you with his pretty hazel eyes as he kissed at the soft skin of your thighs. Deep down, he selfishly hoped no one else had gotten to see you like this—feel you like this.

Your breath hitched at the sight, unable to pull your gaze away and similarly unable to stop your arousal and need as you felt yourself wet the sheets beneath you even further. "I don't see how that's any of your business," you replied stubbornly, wanting to keep the small amount of control you still held.

That gave Reiner all the answer he needed. "Hm," he responded, careful not to anger you, careful not to upset you. but also understanding and seeing just how much you wanted this—wanted him. And equally he was exceptionally aware of the way his cock twitched in his pants, desperate to make you feel good, desperate to feel your thighs around his head and your fingers against his scalp, desperate to hear you in these moments he's imagined you in so many times.

Reiner didn’t wait for another teasing remark from you—his mouth was on you in an instant, his tongue dragging a slow, filthy stripe up your soaked cunt, groaning against you like he’d been starving for this. The sound alone made your back arch off the bunk, a sharp gasp tearing from your lips as his hands clamped down on your thighs, holding you open for him.

He was messy—no finesse, no practiced rhythm, just pure, desperate hunger. His tongue lapped at you like he was trying to memorize your taste, his nose pressing against your clit as he buried his face between your legs. Every flick of his tongue was sloppy, wet, loud, the obscene sounds of his mouth working you filling the tiny cabin. You could feel his stubble scraping against your sensitive skin, the rough drag only making the pleasure sharper, more overwhelming.

“Fuck—Reiner—” Your fingers tangled in his blonde hair, gripping hard as his tongue circled your clit before sucking it between his lips. His groan vibrated through you, his hands sliding under your ass to tilt your hips up, giving him better access as he devoured you.

He was relentless, like he’d been waiting years for this—because he had. Every muffled sound he made against your cunt, every time his tongue plunged inside you only to drag back up, every time his lips sealed around your clit to suck—it was all too much, and yet you never wanted it to stop.

His enthusiasm was almost embarrassing, the way he moaned into you like he was the one being pleasured, his hips moving against his hand as he rubbed his cock through his pants. You could feel the wetness of your own arousal smeared across his chin, and the sight alone had your thighs trembling around his head.

Drool mixed with your arousal, dripping down his chin as he ate you out like a man possessed. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you wider, keeping you open for him as his tongue plunged inside you, fucking into you with rough, eager strokes before retreating to suck your clit again.

"Taste so good," he panted against you, his voice wrecked. "Fuck, fuck, I knew you would—"

His words cut off into a groan as he redoubled his efforts, his tongue flicking rapidly over your clit before he sealed his lips around it again, sucking hard. The wet, filthy sounds of his mouth on you filled the cabin, obscene and perfect, and you could feel the way his hips rocked slightly against the bunk, rutting into nothing as he got off on just tasting you.

"Been thinking about this—" he rasped, pulling back just enough to speak before diving back in, his tongue circling your clit in tight, relentless circles. "—every night—"

His fingers dug into your thighs, leaving marks as he held you down, refusing to let you squirm away from the overwhelming pleasure.

"Close," you choked out, your hips jerking against his mouth. "I’m so close—"

Reiner growled, the sound vibrating through you as he sucked your clit into his mouth one last time, his tongue flicking over it rapidly—

And then you were coming, your back bowing off the bunk as pleasure crashed through you in waves. He didn’t let up, licking you through it, swallowing every drop of you as you shuddered and gasped above him.

When you finally went limp, panting, he pulled back just enough to look up at you.

His chest heaved, his eyes dark with need. But above that, it was like he needed some confirmation he did good.

"Fuck," he breathed. "Are you okay?"

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him up your body until his weight settled over you, pressing you deeper into the thin mattress. His skin was fever-hot, his muscles taut with restraint, but his eyes—those damn hazel eyes—were soft, almost reverent, as he looked down at you.

You didn't answer, not verbally at least.

Your hand slid into his hair, gripping tight as you dragged his mouth to yours, kissing him deeply, tasting yourself on his tongue. A rough groan tore from his throat, his hips jerking forward instinctively, the hard length of his cock grinding against your still-sensitive clit through his pants.

His groan was muffled against your mouth as you licked into him, your fingers tightening in his hair. You could feel the way his body shuddered when you nipped at his bottom lip, the way his hips jerked forward instinctively, grinding his cock—so fucking hard against your thigh.

“God, you’re—” His voice broke as you kissed him again, rougher this time, your teeth dragging over his lip. His hands gripped your waist, fingers digging in like he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go. “Fuck, I need—please—”

"Reiner," you breathed, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "Please fuck me."

You could feel it—the way his entire body trembled with the effort of holding back, the way his breath came in ragged bursts against your mouth. His hands fumbled with his belt, his fingers shaking as he undid the buckle, his cock springing free, thick and flushed and aching for you.

Reiner didn’t waste another second.

He hooked his hands under your knees, spreading you wider, his gaze locked on where your slick glistened between your thighs. His breath hitched, his cock twitching against your stomach as he lined himself up, the blunt head pressing against your entrance.

“Look at me,” he demanded, his voice rough.

You did.

His eyes burned into yours as he pushed inside, slow, so agonizingly slow, his jaw clenched tight as he fought to keep control. The stretch was delicious, the way your walls fluttered around him making his hips stutter.

“Fuck,” he gritted out, his fingers digging into your thighs. “You feel—Christ—you feel even better than I imagined.”

And then he was seated fully inside you, his hips flush against yours, his cock buried to the hilt. For a moment, neither of you moved—just breathed, just felt, the weight of years of longing crashing over you both.

Then—because he needed to see it, needed to know this was real—he leaned back on his heels, pulling out almost all the way just to watch the way your cunt clung to him, glistening and desperate, before slamming back in. His cock disappeared inside you, your wetness coating his dick as your body stretched to take him.

The sound you made was sinful.

Reiner’s hips snapped forward again, harder this time, his cock dragging against your walls in a way that made your toes curl. His grip shifted from your wrist to your hip, holding you in place as he fucked into you with slow, deep strokes—like he was savoring every second, like he wanted to memorize the way your body took him.

His dick glistened with your arousal, disappearing inside you with each thrust, your cunt gripping him like it was made for him. He couldn’t look away—couldn’t stop the way his breath hitched as he watched himself fuck into you, over and over, your body taking him so perfectly.

Reiner’s rhythm was relentless, each deep stroke dragging a gasp from your lips. His broad palm slid down your stomach, fingers gliding through your slick until his thumb found your clit, rubbing tight, rough circles that made your toes curl.

"There you go," he murmured, voice thick with praise as he watched your face twist in pleasure. "So fucking pretty when you take me like this. Can’t believe you’re real—can’t believe I get to have you."

You whimpered, your hips lifting to meet his thrusts, desperate for more, for everything. Reiner moaned at the way your body clenched around him, his thumb pressing harder against your clit.

"Love the way you take me," he panted, his thumb pressing harder against your clit. "Like you were made for me, huh? Made to take my cock just like this—shit—"

Then, without warning, he leaned forward, his chest pressing flush against yours, his weight pinning you completely beneath him. The new angle made him sink deeper, his cock hitting a spot inside you that had your vision whiting out for a second.

"There," he rasped, his breath hot against your ear. "That’s it, sweetheart. Let me have you just like this—fuck—"

His thrusts turned slower but impossibly harder, each one dragging a broken moan from your lips. His fingers tangled in your hair, tilting your head back so he could kiss you again, swallowing your gasps like he needed them to survive.

He braced himself above you, muscles taut, sweat glistening on his skin as he watched your face—every flutter of your lashes, every bitten-off moan—like he was memorizing you all over again.

His hips rolled into yours with a deep, almost reverent grind, pressing so deep you could feel him in your ribs. Your breath hitched as he lingered there, his tip nudging that perfect, aching spot inside you before pulling back with a slow, torturous drag that made your toes curl.

"Feel how deep I am?" he breathed, his fingers tightening on your hip as he rocked into you again, slow and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world. "Fuck, you’re perfect."

His voice was wrecked, his body trembling with the effort of holding back. But he didn’t rush—just kept moving inside you with that same maddening pace, every thrust a sweet torment.

"Could stay like this forever," he admitted, his lips brushing your jaw. "Just like this—buried inside you, feeling you clench around me like you never wanna let me go."

"Reiner," you whined.

"I've got you," he responded, hips never stopping.

And when your back arched, your body tightening around him, he didn’t speed up—just kept fucking you through it, his lips pressed to your neck, whispering praise as pleasure washed over you in waves.

Reiner’s thrusts grew more erratic, his control slipping as your walls fluttered around him, pulling him deeper with each desperate clench. His breath came in ragged gasps, his forehead pressed against yours as he fought to hold on just a little longer.

“I—fuck—I’m close,” he groaned, his voice rough with need. His fingers dug into your hips, his rhythm faltering as pleasure coiled tight in his gut.

You arched beneath him, nails scraping down his back as you panted, “Inside… please, Reiner—I want you to cum inside me.”

His entire body tensed at your words, a shudder running through him. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his own dark with lust and something dangerously close to worship.

“Are you—fuck—are you sure?” he rasped, hips stuttering as he struggled to keep his pace steady.

You nodded, biting your lip as you clenched around him deliberately, drawing a broken groan from his lips.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Want to feel you—all of you.”

That was all it took.

Reiner’s restraint shattered.

"Fuck—gonna fill you up so good," he panted, his forehead dropping against yours. "Gonna make sure you feel it—"

You clenched around him, your own climax building again, and he cursed, his rhythm faltering.

"Come with me," he demanded, his voice wrecked. "Wanna feel you cum on my cock while I’m deep inside you—fuck—please—"

His words tipped you over the edge. Pleasure crashed through you, your body tightening around him in waves, and Reiner lost it.

With a growl that was almost feral, he slammed into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt as his cock pulsed inside you, hot and thick. His body shuddered violently, his fingers gripping you like a lifeline as he spilled deep, his release filling you in waves.

You could feel him pulsing inside you, his cock twitching as he rode out his orgasm, his forehead pressed to yours. When he finally stilled, he didn’t pull away—just stayed there, his body heavy and warm against yours, his breath slowly steadying.

After a long moment, he lifted his head, his gaze soft as he brushed a sweaty strand of hair from your face.

"Okay?" he murmured, his thumb tracing your cheekbone.

You nodded, your fingers lazily tracing the muscles of his back.

Reiner exhaled, something like relief—or maybe wonder—flickering in his eyes before he leaned down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips.

"Good," he murmured against your mouth.

You lay in comfortable silence for what felt like hours but was likely only minutes, Reiner's weight pressing you into the thin mattress, his breath warm against your neck. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin, as though memorizing the feel of you. Neither of you wanted to break the spell, to acknowledge the world waiting outside this small cabin.

"I love you," you whispered finally, the words escaping before you could think better of them. They hung in the air between you, raw and honest.

Reiner stilled, his breath catching. Slowly, he raised himself up on his elbows to look at you, his hazel eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your heart skip. For a terrible moment, you thought you'd said too much, revealed too much of yourself to someone who had once betrayed you.

But then his expression softened, a genuine smile—one you hadn't seen in years—spreading across his face. "I love you too," he said, his voice steady and sure. "I always have."

He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours. "I know it doesn't change anything," he murmured. "I know it doesn't make up for what I did. But it's true."

His eyes grew serious again. "Whatever happens with Eren, with the Rumbling… I'm going to protect you. I promise."

Before you could respond, a sharp knock at the door made you both jump.

"Hey, you two done?" Connie's voice called through the thin wood. "There's food up on the deck if you're interested. Kinda limited, but better than nothing."

You and Reiner exchanged wide-eyed looks before scrambling to get dressed, movements frantic and clumsy in the small space. Your fingers fumbled with buttons and clasps as you tried to make yourselves presentable.

"Uh, yeah," Reiner called back, his voice remarkably steady considering his panicked expression. "We'll be right there."

You could hear the smirk in Connie's voice as he replied, "Take your time. Not like we can hear everything through these paper-thin walls or anything."

Your face burned as you hurriedly tucked in your shirt. Reiner looked equally mortified, though a small, almost boyish grin played at the corners of his mouth when your eyes met.

"Ready?" he asked softly, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

You nodded, taking a deep breath before opening the door. Connie was waiting in the narrow corridor, a knowing grin splitting his face. Without a word, he turned and headed up the stairs, gesturing for you both to follow.

Reiner went first, and you couldn't help but notice the way Connie immediately engaged him in animated conversation as they climbed, acting as though nothing unusual had happened at all. Their voices faded slightly as they reached the deck above.

Jean appeared at your side as you finished climbing the stairs.

"So," he said, raising an eyebrow. "I take it the talk went well?"

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. "Yeah, really well," you replied, hoping that Connie was just teasing and no one else heard a thing.

"I just mean," he continued, a stupid and annoying grin on your face, "when I suggested you two clear the air, I didn't necessarily mean you should bring down the whole ship with your—"

Your face burned with embarrassment and fury. "I will literally throw you overboard, Jean," you hissed, shoving his shoulder hard enough to make him stumble back. "I swear to God—"

Jean laughed, ducking away from your next swing. "Hey, I'm happy for you guys! Honestly!" He held up his hands in surrender, still grinning as he backed up the stairs. "Just doing my part as your friend to give you shit about it."

1K notes · View notes

luvbugs-blog · 9 days ago

Text

cyberboy come home to me!

art credits: @musapylsa

synopsis — you just really love shy, nerdy, awkward armin arlert. not to mention how much you adore his tongue piercing.

wc — 5.4k

warnings — oral (f receiving), brief m receiving oral, unprotected sex, dom! kinda reader? armin is a loser virgin, tongue piercing fixation, mentions of drinking and getting high.

“Ah… I’m not sure if we should be— mmph!”

Armin downright whimpers when you silence his protest with a soft giggle and press your lips to his again, cupping his cheek like you’re trying to ease him into it. He kisses back, but it’s clumsy—his lips too hesitant, his breath shaky. The way his slightly clammy hands tremble as they slide awkwardly onto your waist gives him away completely. His fingers twitch like he’s unsure if he’s even allowed to touch you, like he’s expecting to be jolted awake from some perverse fever dream at any second.

You smile into it. He tastes a little like fruit punch and nerves.

How’d he even end up like this?

Honestly? He’s not entirely sure himself.

All he knows is that about an hour ago, he’d been forcibly dragged out of his safe, sacred little sanctuary—his room—by none other than Eren Jaeger, who’d called him a “shut-in loser” with all the affection of a lifelong best friend trying to get his social recluse ass to touch grass for once. “Just come out for one night,” Eren had said. “You never hang out anymore. You just rot in front of that stupid computer!”

That “stupid computer,” by the way, is the love of Armin’s life. A lovingly hand-built, high-performance rig that he’d spent months putting together with trembling excitement and a YouTube tab permanently open. The tower is pure art—transparent case with perfectly routed cable management, cool-toned RGB fans that change hues with each temperature spike, and a custom water-cooling loop that keeps everything running quieter than a whisper. The inside glows in a soft gradient from blue to violet, illuminating every pristine component like a spaceship console. His mechanical keyboard clicks satisfyingly under his fingers, each custom PBT keycap matte and worn in just enough. The desk is outfitted with dual curved monitors, a steelseries headset perched on a 3D-printed stand, and a carefully arranged line of anime figurines—each one dusted weekly.

He lives there. He thrives there. Not out here.

So when he’d first stepped foot into the frat house—blinking under dim purple lights, instantly accosted by the stench of sweat, alcohol, Axe body spray, and weed—he’d wanted to turn and run. Connie had looped an arm around his neck before he could so much as take a step back, dragging him further inside like a lamb to slaughter.

He would’ve given anything to be home. Back at his setup. Back where he could peacefully queue up for League of Legends or post a hot take on a message board about dungeon tier lists. His teammates were probably on Discord right now, wondering why his little green light hadn’t turned on tonight.

That was then.

Somehow– Somehow, in the haze of being drunk or high out of their minds— Eren was out of it, Connie was asleep on Sasha’s lap, whose head was on a knocked out Jean’s shoulder. Mikasa, for how composed she usually was, was slumped next to Eren, his hand wrapped around hers— you had managed to finally snag the shy boy to yourself.

You’d only recently started hanging out with the gang, weaving your way into their circle with a kind of natural confidence Armin found both mesmerizing and terrifying. You’re funny. Loud in a charming way. You speak your mind, talk to Eren and Mikasa like you’ve known them for years, and make sly little jokes that leave Connie wheezing. Even Sasha likes you—and she doesn’t like anyone new.

But around you, Armin turns into scrambled code. He avoids eye contact. Stumbles over his words. Does that thing where he pushes up his glasses like a reflex even when they’re already in place.

And it wasn’t hard to realize that Armin liked you.

He wasn’t subtle—not in the way he’d glance up from his phone screen when you laughed a little too loudly, or the way his ears would burn pink every time you plopped down next to him during hangouts, hips brushing, thighs touching just barely. He'd sit there stiffly, eyes wide behind his glasses, thumbs still tapping away at whatever gacha game or tactics RPG he was grinding, pretending not to notice how your perfume clung to the air between you like static.

You’d catch him staring sometimes—well, more than sometimes. Once when you bent over to grab a charger, and again when you wore that cropped shirt with the worn-out neckline, his gaze getting stuck right where your collarbone dipped into something just a bit more scandalous. But he’d always look away just in time, pretending to clean his glasses or scroll deeper into Reddit threads.

The boy was practically a walking Tumblr post from 2013. Always in those oversized hoodies with the sleeves too long, fingers tucked halfway into the cuffs, his laptop stickers flaking off from years of aggressive clicking. His room, as you’d come to discover later, was nothing short of a digital command center. Dual monitors—one vertical, one horizontal—cast a cold RGB glow over his unmade bed and tangle of charging cables. His mechanical keyboard clicked loud enough to echo through the dorm floor, each keystroke deliberate. Rows of Funko Pops lined the top of his bookshelf, mostly anime characters and one out-of-place Miku figurine he shyly claimed was "cute."

And that chair—God, that chair. It was one of those ridiculous ergonomic gaming thrones with a headrest, a lumbar support pillow, and armrests that he always adjusted like he was gearing up for war. You could tell it was his pride and joy, considering how he refused to let anyone else sit in it. Except, of course, for that one time you snuck in during a group hangout and plopped down in it just to see how far he’d go before breaking—he just stood there, mouth open, shifting awkwardly until he gave up and sat on the floor beside you. Pathetic. Adorable.

So yeah, it wasn’t hard to realize Armin liked you. He was just painfully obvious about it in a way that made you all the more obsessed.

Especially after that day Eren—loud-mouthed, smug Eren—dropped the most shocking bit of information mid-conversation over nachos and beer.

“Guess who finally let me bully him into getting a tongue piercing?”

Your head had snapped around so fast it almost gave you whiplash. "You're kidding."

Eren had just grinned like the devil himself. “Nope. Took him to the place on 8th. Cried like a bitch but hey, he’s got it now.”

You’d turned to look at Armin, who was red as a tomato, sipping his Sprite like he wished he could disappear behind the carbonation. He didn’t even deny it.

You haven't been able to stop thinking about it since.

Which brings you to now.

So when all of a sudden, you're sitting next to him on the too-small couch, murmuring something about there being something wrong with your phone, and desperately needing someone to fix it for you, and no, the dim lighting of the living room simply isn’t enough to inspect it properly—you somehow manage to drag him upstairs to one of the empty rooms, thigh pressed a little too close to his as you explain how glitchy your phone is, how you're so sure it must be some kind of weird virus, and wow, isn't that so crazy?

But cut the bullshit. Even Armin knew you were lying.

Phone glitching? Yeah, right. He’d seen your screen time stats by accident once—your camera roll was 95% front-facing selfies, memes, and blurry videos from nights out. He wasn’t stupid. But he was clueless—at least about your intentions.

You’d had a thing for him since day one, not that he knew, obviously. The first time Eren had pulled you into the fold, dragging you into their little friend group like some shiny new accessory, Armin had looked at you like you’d be gone by next week. He wasn’t good with new people—too shy, too stiff, too used to lurking in the background with his legs folded crisscross on the floor and his thumbs tapping away at his phone while everyone else drank and talked over each other.

Even now, when everyone hung out, Armin would be half-present—physically there, tucked into the corner of the room with his hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands, but mentally god knows where. Probably grinding a mobile RPG or replying to a fan theory thread. He liked games where he could build things, micromanage every stat. His phone battery was always draining because he never stopped playing. Long, elegant fingers constantly moving, tapping, swiping. Even when you sat next to him, he couldn’t seem to stop. You once made a joke about how he probably tapped faster during battles than he would during sex.

You remember the way he’d choked on his Redbull.

But now—now he’s stuck. Sitting next to you in a quiet upstairs room, your perfume in his lungs, your thigh pressed right up against his, and your phone held limply between you both like some half-hearted prop.

He keeps glancing at you, lips parted like he wants to say something—anything—but nothing comes out.

“You gonna fix it or just keep staring at my lockscreen?” you tease, your voice low, syrupy sweet.

He blinks, startled, fumbling to grab the phone from your hands with a stuttered apology. “S-Sorry, I—um—yeah, let me just… check the settings, I guess.”

His hands shake slightly as he scrolls, and you bite your lip watching him. The way his jaw tenses, his brows furrow in concentration—it’s endearing. You wonder if he knows how flushed his ears are. You wonder if he knows how loud his breathing is.

You lean in just slightly, enough that your breath brushes the shell of his ear.

“You know,” you murmur, “I still haven’t seen that piercing.”

His entire body jolts. His fingers fumble the phone, almost dropping it in his lap. “W-What?”

You smile innocently, like you don’t already know exactly what you’re doing. “Your tongue. Eren told me. Kinda wanna see it for myself.”

Armin swallows hard, eyes wide as he looks at you like you just asked him to strip naked. “I-I mean, it’s not—It’s nothing, really. I-it’s just… uh…”

“C’mon,” you coax, fingers brushing the side of his knee. “I’m curious.”

He hesitates. Then, shakily, he sticks his tongue out just a little—just enough for the cool glint of metal to catch the light. Your stomach flips.

God, you didn’t expect that to be so hot. On him, of all people.

“You’re full of surprises, Armin Arlert,” you whisper, eyes meeting his.

And you swear to god, if you didn’t know better, you’d say the look in his eyes shifts. Just a little. Like something in him snaps or gives in. Like he’s done pretending he doesn’t know what’s going on.

“…Is your phone actually broken?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

You grin. “Not even a little.”

And for once—for once—Armin smirks.

It's crooked. Barely there. But it's smug in the quietest, most devastating way, because he knows now. You're not here because of some bullshit glitch or broken screen. You're here for him.

The second you lean in, brushing a strand of his blond hair out of his face, he freezes—like a deer caught in headlights. His breath hitches, lips parting just slightly, and his fingers tense where they’re still holding your phone like it’s a lifeline.

“You’ve never kissed anyone before,” you say softly, not a question. Just an observation.

His cheeks flush bright red. He doesn’t answer.

You cock your head, smiling. “That’s okay. I’ll teach you.”

His breath catches again, sharp and audible this time, and he shifts a little like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands—does he drop your phone? Hold it? Hold you?

You take the decision away for him, gently slipping it from his fingers and setting it down on the nightstand. Then, without breaking eye contact, you slowly slide onto his lap, one knee at a time, until you’re straddling his narrow hips, hands settling on his shoulders.

His whole body goes stiff. “Ah… I’m not sure if we should be— mmph!”

You kiss his lips again, silencing him effectively.

“Armin,” you say as you pull back, voice low and amused. “Relax.”

He doesn’t. Not entirely. But his hands hover awkwardly near your waist now, like he’s trying to be respectful, like he’s afraid if he touches you wrong, the moment will combust.

You lean forward, just enough that your noses nearly brush.

“Close your eyes,” you whisper. “Don’t think. Just feel.”

He obeys, lashes fluttering shut. You let your lips graze his, soft and tentative, barely a kiss at all—just enough for him to taste your breath, to feel the warmth of you against his mouth.

He shivers.

You pull back slightly, your voice like silk against his ear. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

He exhales shakily. “It’s… it’s good. You’re… good.”

You smile. “You haven’t even gotten the full lesson yet.”

And then you kiss him.

Really kiss him.

You press your mouth against his fully this time, slow and confident, your lips moving gently over his like you’ve got all the time in the world. He kisses back clumsily at first, a little too much pressure, a little off with the rhythm, but it’s adorable, and you can feel the way his whole body trembles under you.

You guide him with quiet murmurs between kisses. “Slower… softer, yeah… there. Just like that.”

His hands finally land on your waist, unsure at first, then a little firmer when you deepen the kiss, your fingers threading into the hair at the nape of his neck. You part your lips slowly, and when he instinctively mimics you—nervous, but curious—you feel it.

The smooth, cool ball of metal.

You pause just barely, lips still brushing his, a grin curling at the corners of your mouth. “There it is.”

“Huh?” he whispers, dazed.

“That piercing,” you murmur, voice thick with heat. “Feels so fucking good.”

You kiss him again, and this time your tongue finds his. The sensation of the cold stud sliding against yours sends a sharp little jolt straight through your spine. It’s addictive. You roll your hips slightly against his, and he gasps into your mouth, fingers tightening on your waist like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to pull you closer or push you away.

He tastes like mint and nervous energy, and the little helpless noises he lets out when you suck on his bottom lip are enough to make your thighs clench around his lap.

You pull back for a second, just to look at him. His lips are flushed, slightly swollen, eyes glazed with something between awe and pure panic.

“You okay?” you whisper, thumb brushing across his cheek.

He nods, almost too fast. “Y-Yeah. I just—I didn’t know it could feel like that.”

You lean in again, lips ghosting over his jaw. “That’s just the beginning.”

He groans—actually groans—and it’s the hottest fucking sound you’ve ever heard from him. You swear you feel him twitch beneath you. His hips shift slightly, involuntarily, and the friction makes both of you gasp.

You grab a fistful of his hoodie, tugging him back into another kiss, messier this time. Less structured. All tongue and heat and shallow breaths. That piercing catches on your lip as you suck on his tongue, and you moan softly against his mouth.

He's kissing you like he wants to prove something now. Still hesitant, still learning, but eager. Hungry. His hands slide up under your shirt, still shy but bolder than before, fingertips ghosting over the bare skin of your waist.

You roll your hips against him again, deliberately this time, and the noise he makes—somewhere between a whimper and a curse—goes straight to your core.

You smile into the kiss, breathless. “You’re such a quick learner.”

He swallows thickly. “I—I wanna keep learning.”

“Yeah?” You rock against him again, and his eyes flutter shut. “You will.”

You dip your head to press a kiss to his neck, right below his jaw. He gasps, tilting his head back like it’s instinct, and you suck a slow, wet mark into the pale skin, making him jolt beneath you.

“You’re so sensitive,” you whisper. “Bet I could make you fall apart with just my mouth.”

He whimpers.

And fuck, that sound does something to you.

You're grinding against him now, fully, the heat between your legs pressing right against the growing bulge in his pants. The way his hips buck up helplessly, like he can’t stop himself, is intoxicating.

You mouth at his jaw, then his ear, letting your breath tickle the shell of it.

“Armin,” you purr, “do you want me to show you more?”

He looks up at you like he’s ready to beg.

“Yes,” he breathes. “Please. Show me everything.”

You don’t make him ask twice.

You kiss him again, deep and slow, feeling the way he melts into it now. No hesitation—just heat, want, and the softest desperation in how his mouth opens for you like he’s starving. You taste that metal ball again, glide your tongue along it, and the sound he makes—fuck, you’re obsessed.

Your hips move instinctively, grinding down on his lap, and you can feel him. Hard. Pressed right up against your core through his worn out jeans and your shorts. The friction draws a moan from your throat that has his eyes fluttering open, pupils blown wide.

“Fuck,” you whisper, forehead pressed to his. “You’re so hard already.”

He nods, frantic, breath stuttering. “I—yeah, I can’t—I didn’t mean to—”

“Shh.” You cup his jaw, tilt his face up. “Don’t be embarrassed. You think I didn’t want that?”

You shift just a little, rolling your hips down with purpose, dragging your clothed pussy against his cock. He chokes on a gasp, his fingers digging into your waist like he’s trying to stop himself from bucking up into you again. You grab his hand, beckoning him to slip his fingers under your shorts, under the waistband of your panties.

“Feel how wet I am for you?” you murmur, lips brushing his ear.

He nods again, helpless. “Yeah—yeah, I feel it—fuck—”

You smile wickedly and grab the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head in one motion. His mouth drops open.

He stares.

Hard.

Like he’s short-circuiting. Like he’s never seen anyone naked before and can’t figure out where to look. His hands twitch like he wants to touch you but doesn’t know if he’s allowed.

You guide them to your tits.

“Touch me, baby,” you say softly. “It’s okay. You can.”

He swallows hard and palms your breasts gently, reverently, like he’s afraid to squeeze too hard. His thumbs ghost over your nipples and you sigh, arching your back into his touch, giving him a show.

“God, you’re perfect,” he breathes.

“You’re cute,” you reply, pushing your hips down again. “And obedient.”

He whimpers at that.

You roll your hips slow and steady, grinding on him until you feel his thighs start to tremble beneath you.

Then you lean down, lips brushing his. “I want you to eat me out.”

His eyes widen. “I—what? I’ve never—”

“I’ll guide you. Just do what I say.”

You’re already sliding off his lap, standing between his legs and shimmying your shorts and underwear down in one motion. His breath stutters when he sees you like that, bare and dripping, your thighs glistening in the low light.

You make a move to lie back on the bed, but he stops you, pink in the face.

“S–Sorry, I– ah– Can you ride my face? Please?”

He looks like he wants to wipe his existence off the planet because why’d he say that in such a high pitched tone, why’d he stutter like that, why’d his voice crack when he said please, why'd he—

But you just giggle amusedly, pushing him back onto the bed, straddling his face.

His whole body tenses like he’s trying not to combust. “Are you sure you’re okay with thi—?”

You don’t answer. Just lower your hips slowly until you’re hovering just above his mouth.

“Open up.”

He does, and when your pussy presses against his lips, you sigh like it’s relief. He’s clumsy at first—licking too shallow, too soft—but you guide him. “Use your tongue. Flatten it—yeah, just like that. A little harder. Good. Fuck, Armin.”

The moment his tongue finds your clit, you moan, your hips jolting forward. And the pressure of that cold little ball dragging against your most sensitive spot?

It’s over.

You’re grinding on his face now, fingers buried in his soft blond hair, riding him through sloppy, wet licks and messy kisses that leave your thighs shaking. He moans beneath you, hands gripping your hips like he’s into it, like the taste of you is something he wants to memorize. His piercing continuously flicks against your clit, making you whine and shudder, thighs clamping around his head. And soon enough, you’re coming all over his tongue, his name leaving your mouth prettily.

He’s hard again—probably never stopped being hard—and when you finally can’t take it anymore, you slide down his body and palm him through his jeans.

“Fuck,” you breathe, eyes wide as you feel the outline of him. “You’ve been hiding this from me?”

He covers his face with one arm, flushed and overwhelmed. “I didn’t know I’d get like that so fast.”

“You’re adorable.” You lean down and press a kiss just above his waistband. “Let me take care of you.”

He whimpers again.

And when you tug his jeans down, his cock bounces free—hard, flushed, leaking at the tip. You stroke him once, slow and firm, and his whole body jolts.

“Oh my god,” he chokes, hands fisting the sheets. “I—I don’t think I can—”

“You can.” You kiss the head of his cock, swirl your tongue around it just once, and watch him squirm.

Then you straddle him again.

“Wait—” he gasps. “Are you—are we really—”

You line him up with your entrance, slow and steady, and you moan when the tip slips in.

“Fuck yes, baby,” you whisper, eyes fluttering shut as you sink down inch by inch. “You’re inside me.”

He’s panting, chest rising and falling like he’s about to pass out. “You feel… holy shit…”

“Tight?” you tease, grinding down once you’re seated fully.

He nods, eyes wide, mouth open. “I’m not gonna last—”

“You’ll learn,” you murmur, starting to move. “I’m gonna teach you everything.”

And as you ride him—slow, deliberate, dragging every sweet sound out of him—you know for a fact that this won’t be the last lesson. You bounce up and down on him, watching with a gaze full of lust and amusement as he croons your name, head thrown back, drool escaping the side of his lip, thick glasses askew.

He looks like he’s unraveling. Like his brain stopped functioning five minutes ago. Like all he can focus on is the way your cunt squeezes him every time you drop down.

“F-Fuck, you feel so good,” he whimpers, voice cracking with raw need. “I c-can’t… I’m not gonna last…”

You lean forward, letting your chest brush against his, your lips brushing his mouth as you whisper, “That’s okay. Just give it to me.”

His hands are shaking where they grip your hips, but he tries to match your rhythm anyway, pulling you down harder every time your ass slaps against his thighs. He’s trying so hard to keep it together for you—sweet, trembling thing, so eager to please despite how close he is.

“I–I’m gonna– I’m gonna– I don’t have a condom on, I—”

“Don’t worry,” you murmur, kissing the edge of his jaw, tongue flicking over his pulse point. “Just pull out, baby. I’ve got you.”

And it’s like your voice alone is enough to break him.

His grip tightens—frantic, bruising—and you barely have time to lift off before he comes, gasping your name like a prayer. Thick ropes spill over his stomach, twitching cock pulsing as he groans and writhes beneath you, flushed and utterly wrecked. His glasses have slid halfway down his nose, and he’s too dazed to fix them.

You exhale through a low laugh, trailing your fingers through his release before bringing them to your mouth and sucking them clean, just to tease him. His breath stutters at the sight, and his eyes roll slightly as he pants beneath you.

You collapse next to him, both of you catching your breath in the quiet, sticky air. The room smells like sweat and sex and faint body spray, and outside the door you can still hear the low thrum of party music, muffled now like the two of you are in a different world entirely.

He’s quiet. Still. Hands awkwardly covering himself, glasses pushed to the side. You catch the way his lashes flutter, how red his cheeks are, how he refuses to meet your eyes.

You turn on your side, resting your head on one hand. “What’s wrong?”

He swallows hard. “That was my first time,” he says softly. “Like… all of it. Kissing, sex, everything.”

You pause, the weight of his admission settling into the space between you. He glances up at you finally, face filled with anxiety.

“I… I hope I didn’t disappoint you.”

Your heart aches a little.

You reach out and gently remove his glasses, setting them on the nightstand, then cradle his face in your hand.

“Armin,” you say, voice low and sincere, “that was the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced. You have no idea.”

He blinks, surprised.

“You were perfect,” you say, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his forehead. “And I like that it was me. I like being the first.”

His face turns even redder, if that’s possible. “I–I didn’t even know what I was doing.”

“That’s the fun part.” You smile, brushing a strand of his hair off his forehead. “Means I get to teach you everything.”

He hides his face against your shoulder, groaning. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You laugh softly, wrapping your arm around his waist. “You’re such a cutie.”

You lay there together in the silence for a while, his head nestled against your chest, his arms tentatively curling around you like he’s not sure he’s allowed to hold you yet. You run your fingers through his hair, gently tugging here and there, and you feel him relax more and more under your touch.

“You still nervous?” you murmur after a while.

“A little,” he admits, voice muffled. “I just… I’ve never done this. Any of it. I don’t want to mess things up with you.”

You kiss the top of his head. “You’re not. I like you.”

He lifts his head to look at you, shy but hopeful. “Really?”

“Mhm.” You brush your lips against his again. “I’ve liked you since I saw you trailing behind Eren with your stupid oversized hoodie and your Switch in your hands like you were allergic to human interaction.”

He laughs, sheepish. “I kind of am.”

You grin. “And I kind of love that.”

He watches you for a moment, eyes soft and a little awestruck. Then he leans forward, kisses you with all the gentleness and hesitance of someone who’s just now realizing he might be falling for someone, and you smile into it, warm and full and smug.

Because you know you’ve got him.

—

It’s official now. You’re Armin’s girlfriend.

It had happened somewhere between all the blushing kisses and stolen glances and slow, breathy I like you’s whispered in the privacy of his bedroom. There was no dramatic confession, no rose petals or fireworks. Just him looking at you one afternoon with that overwhelmed, adoring gaze, thumb brushing over your knuckles while he mumbled, “Do you, um… want to be mine? Like… officially?”

And you’d kissed him stupid in response.

So now, two weeks later, you’re at his place again, perched sideways on his lap in his gaming chair, legs draped over one armrest while his are stretched beneath the desk, twitching slightly every time something exciting happens on screen.

You’re wearing one of his hoodies—big, soft, and smelling like fabric softener and his shampoo—and nothing else underneath. Which he hasn’t noticed. Yet.

His focus is laser-sharp, blue eyes narrowed behind his glasses, tongue pressed to the corner of his mouth like he’s fighting for his life on whatever boss battle he’s got going. You shift a little, trying to get comfortable in his lap, but he doesn’t even flinch—just grunts something about “just give me a second, babe, I’m in the middle of something.”

And yeah, it’s a little infuriating. But also?

Ridiculously hot.

Like, his headset is way too big on him. He keeps muttering things under his breath about cooldowns and mechanics and DPS output. His fingers are flying across the keys, long and elegant and twitchy, like they were built to type essays at the speed of sound or code random passion projects no one ever asked for.

At one point, he actually shushes you. A little breathy “waitwaitwait– babe, hold on, this guy’s cheesing—oh my god I swear to god if this fucking healer dies I’m gonna—”

You blink. Then snort.

“You’re so nerdy,” you murmur, voice laced with amusement, “I can’t believe this is my boyfriend.”

He doesn’t look up. “You knew what I was when you signed up.”

“Oh, I did.” You lean in, dragging your fingers up the nape of his neck, just under the headset. “And I like it.”

He shudders a little. “You’re distracting me.”

“I know.”

Still, he plays. Fidgety, intense, mouthing instructions to himself like some kind of adorable, socially anxious commander. You watch the screen for a bit, half-understanding what’s happening—some massive raid, particles flying everywhere, his team yelling in the Discord chat you can hear leaking through his headphones. Armin doesn’t talk much, but when he does, it’s surprisingly confident. Precise.

“No, back left! You kite, I’ll stun—good—shit, I got hit, that’s fine, I’ve got mana—”

You shift again. This time a little more deliberately.

His hands pause on the keyboard. “...Are you doing that on purpose?”

You blink at him innocently. “Doing what?”

“You’re… squirming.”

You tilt your head, smiling. “I’m just trying to sit comfortably, Armin. Your thighs are kinda bony.”

“I—what? I—”

He falters. And you know he’s starting to get flustered. Because his hand slips on his mouse, and he curses softly under his breath as his character takes a hit onscreen.

“Can’t believe I’m being insulted and sabotaged right now,” he mumbles.

“I’m your girlfriend,” you remind him, turning so you’re fully straddling him now, knees on either side of his hips, “it’s in the job description.”

He swallows thickly. You can feel him beneath you now—half-hard already, tension building the longer you stay in his lap.

“Please let me finish this fight,” he whispers, jaw tight.

You kiss the edge of it.

“Okay.”

So you wait. Sort of.

You shift again. Start pressing little kisses to his throat. Let your fingers toy with the edge of his shirt, lifting it just slightly. Not enough to distract him fully. Just enough to make him sweat.

By the time he finally mutters a breathless, “Got him, holy shit,” and slumps back in the chair, he’s panting and flushed—and not just from the game.

You lean in, both hands planted on his chest now, smiling sweetly.

“All done?”

He nods.

“Good.” And then you roll your hips once against his, slow and deliberate.

He makes a soft, broken sound in his throat. “Y-You’re evil.”

“Mmhm,” you hum, dipping down to kiss him again, this time deeper, tongue teasing the edge of that stupid metal piercing he still refuses to tell you the story behind.

It’s so easy to ruin him.

His hands flutter uselessly for a second before they land on your hips, gripping like he’s still not sure he’s allowed to touch you. You grind down harder, and he whines into your mouth, glasses fogging up, hips twitching like he’s not in control of his own body anymore.

“Fuck,” he breathes, voice high and shaking. “I’m—I was just trying to game.”

“You’ll live,” you whisper, licking into his mouth again. “Besides… I like seeing you like this. So desperate for me.”

He groans.

And you know right then, without a doubt, this little nerd is already obsessed with you. Completely and utterly whipped.

author's note: HELL YEAH I LOVE NERDIFYING ANIME MEN!!!! fantastic give me 14 more of them bzzzzz

seriously when i saw this fanart the first thing i did was open up google docs and get my ass to WORK i feel like by now its really obvious i have a thing for nerds :3

hope u guys #enjoyed i have a really bad tongue piercing fixation, not sure if it was obvious... (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ )

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luvbugs-blog · 9 days ago

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Say cheese to the camera, zeke

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luvbugs-blog · 9 days ago

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Armin, Jean, Eren and Mikasa overhearing

their crush saying "why would I tell them that I like them? I can't compete with (Annie/Mikasa/Eren)".

-> Masterlist - Join the taglist! <-

Content Warning: Self-loathing under Armin's section.

Armin's brain completely stutters to a stop the moment he overhears it, his ribs feeling like they might concave at the slightest moment. He's overwhelmed and flustered, unable to look you in the eyes for the days to come, regardless if you knew he overheard or not. Stewing in it comes easy; talking to you about it is another.

Ever since the Scouts reclaimed Shiganshina, he's been plagued with self doubt. With feeling inadequate and so much self loathing that it's hard to put the pieces back together. Talking to Annie wasn't anything important to him- not like you were.

He was visiting Annie's crystal because he felt flawed, a mistake. A part of him ached to be needed, to satisfy that part of him that wanted to justify what they did to her. That thought: if Annie could be salvaged, couldn't he? That he wasn't a monster because of what happened.

With you it was different; he could express his fears and vulnerabilities. No one else had seen this side to him; the drive to be better, who saw him at his lowest and drove him to excel. Annie was an ideal, a ghost that he couldn't chase.

You? You were real. You, who fought alongside him, helped him to his feet, metaphorically and possibly physically. The way you held yourself, interacted with him. How could he not admire you? Like you?

What did he do to make you think this way? That you weren't so utterly important to him?

Armin tends to be more withdrawn with you around since he overheard that comment, trying to find the right words to say. Bravery comes not from the brain, as they say.

"I like you too!" He exclaims one day, red-faced and stumbling over his words as he tries to make them come out. Strategy planning is easy; risking people is a burden he can handle. But risking you?

Armin stampers through a confession that he heard you that day. But he's earnest, heart on his sleeve because it's only ever belonged to you.

"I didn't like her that way at all! I've only liked you, and, if you're - wanting to, we could-" He stammers through his sentences, getting utterly redfaced and earnest as he tries to find the right words to say. Later, it'll be easier when he's not pouring his heart out, but he knows you deserve to know. That maybe he deserves this too.

Him? You like Jean? Those overheard words don't really process through Jean's mind quickly enough as he passes by the room you're in.

It's a lot to unpack, mostly because you didn't want to tell him.

His words simmer in his throat. He thinks he can push this down; smother it like he's done so many other things. A part of him thinks it should die like that - after all, you didn't plan to say anything. Didn't think he was worth it, to share that secret with.

But he lives with regrets - Marco - not shooting -- but also not living up to the life that he wants. That he knows he deserves.

It's sprung on you, later, when the two of you are filling up gas cylinders.

"I'm not in love with Mikasa." They're heavy words met with silence but he means them, eyes downcast as his hands idle. The silence is damning but you're worth it. By the Walls, you've always been worth it. "And I never have been. I liked her before, but." He gives a slight roll of his shoulders, trying to find the right words.

But he isn't a coward and he doesn't want to waste time, especially knowing that you feel the same way. Looking up, his eyes dart from you, to the wall and back again. "You can't compare to her." And, that sounds so much worse when he says it so he grabs tightly onto your arm, forcing your eyes to meet. "Fuck, I mean, you're not competing with her. Alright?"

He makes a sound, torn between a sigh and a groan as he runs his hands through his hair. "I heard what you said, before, about - You're not her, and I don't want you to be. I'd never choose her over you. I love you." It's not quite what he meant to say but the words fall easily, readily. "And dammit, I really wish you'd choose me too."

Mikasa is, unfortunately, standing behind you when those words leave your lips. When you inevitably turn to face her, there's no hint of what she's thinking visible on her face. Her cool eyes never leave you even when one of the captains walk in to deliver another mission.

Outwardly, everything she does seems to come off as a rejection; she doesn't talk to you about it, doesn't treat you differently. If one considers less and less talk as 'not any different'.

Not talking to you though... it feels like a small candle sputtering out - and her hands burn beneath the wax.

She's... not sure how to process any of that at all. She'd always been so concerned with Eren, with Armin and helping them accomplish their lifelong dreams. She never really took a moment to dwell in her own thoughts.

Her thoughts on Eren were chaotic at best; clouded by their game of tug-of-war, always trying to mother him, protect him. Getting shunned for it. She never had to do that with you - not to the same extent, anyway.

Hearing you say those words - "I like her" -- it's putting a name to the face she'd seen in her mind. Like. Affection. A warmth in her chest whenever she saw you, accompanied with a low and simmering trust. How easy it was, for once, to look at someone and have them look right back, and see her for who she is.

She only mentions it, much later, when you're both assigned to a practice mission. Where only time and the sun overhead is your company, forced to wait idle until a new command is issued.

"I want to talk about what you said," is how she begins. "About liking me." Her hands move to her scarf, something raw wedged in her chest that makes her feel so vulnerable with her face bared. Instead, her fingers loosen and it remains still around her neck. She wants you to see her as she is, what she's offering you.

"Eren is... like family to me. I would do anything for him." It's a brutal, almost cold way that she says those words. She means it, and you mean a lot to her, so she doesn't want any confusion.

"But you are not Eren. You are not family to me and I don't want you to be. You're important to me too. I don't want you to see me as your sister or protector." Her grey eyes search yours, searching for any kind of sign. "I like you too."

Eren has the most physical reaction. Shoulders locking, back straightening and all but sprinting as he rushes up to you. "What!" His mouth is running hot and fast, not able to get the words out fast enough.

Eren is a man of action; thinking things through wasn't his strong suit, nor did it ever have to be. But Mikasa? Mikasa!? Out of everyone? The girl who he grew up with, routinely tried to shield him from everything? Frustration rises hot in his throat as he thinks - didn't you know him at all?

How could he ever like Mikasa when there was you? You who defended him, humoured his ideals, cheered him on during his training, didn't see him for the monster he thought he was.

Weaving between cadets, racing as fast as he can to you, he knows he has to put his foot down. He's tired of all the secrets and lies, and he certainly doesn't want any between the two of you. Not when it's something like this.

"I don't like her!" Each word is punctuated loud and fast, trying to squash that idea as quickly as it came. Why did everybody always think that? He's gestulating, trying to get you to look at him, ignoring how your confidants stare at him. "Mikasa is -" His face scrunches up, harsh words on his tongue, resentful but not towards you. You've never treated him as fragile or incapable. How could he ever think of her that way when you filled that spot?

"We're not like that at all!" He adds, promising himself that he'll explain it in a calmer discussion later. "I wanted you!"

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luvbugs-blog · 9 days ago

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AOT BOYS WHEN THEY’RE DRUNK

please leave a tip if you can. reblogs, comments and requests are all very much appreciated! and check out some of my other works if you have the time ♡

ARMIN: the kissing fiend drunk.

armin is definitely a light weight. and honestly cannot hold his liquor for shit, when he does get some alcohol in him … he turns into a whiny mess. his blue eyes will be low lidded, focused on you as he pouts. he leans in for the fifth kiss that night and you playfully move away. this elicits a small whine from the blonde boy as his arms wrap around your waist, gently he pulls your body flush against him before kissing your lips again.

he’s had one too many jello shots at sasha’s party, and after the gang went off to watch a movie. you went into the kitchen to go get armin a water. unknowing to you, he followed you like a little puppy and insisted you give him one kiss.

one turned into two, and then two into three now here you are.

“you’re so drunk,” you smile against his lips, feeling his fingers now rub little circles onto your hips. he kisses you again, and again and again. the kisses are fast and sloppy, but they’re full of love and affection for you.

“wait, min—” you barely even get the words out before your boyfriend is pressing his soft lips against yours again. he lifts you up onto the counter, lips still moving against yours as your dress slightly lifts up.

armin situates himself in between your legs, letting out a small moan when the bulge in his pants rubs the soft skin of your thigh. he’s not sure what it is, but your lips look so good tonight. they taste so good too, the sweet taste of your gloss staining his cherry pink lips.

“wanna go home,” he says, burying his face into your shoulder. his breaths come out in short huffs as he buries his face deeper into your shoulder. “wanna love on you.”

CONNIE: the drunk who likes to be a fucking tease.

connie literally has 0 energy when he gets drunk. usually he’s the one drinking less, playing games with sasha and jean on a regular party night. but tonight, he’s had way too many shots of hennessy and it’s fucking him up. all he can think about is how fucking good you smell right now.

his touches are sweet and lazy, gentle fingers tracing over your thigh as he whispers things into your ear.

“i wanna finger you y/n. open your legs a little.” he starts, making your eyes widen as you clench your cup in your hand. heat floods through your body when connie’s hand inches closer to your panties.

“c-con .. we can’t. l-lets go home.” you say to him, but it’s all futile when he lays a kiss to your neck. it takes everything in you not to moan out at the sensation, but fuck connie is being such a tease! it’s so unfair.

“nobody’s gonna notice. cmon, pretty. just lemme prep you a little.” his raspy voice urges, offering you what you want the most. you were probably drunker than connie was, but fuck .. this is too much.

“connie..” your voice is weak, but another kiss pressed to your neck has your resolve breaking quickly. your boyfriends breath fans over your ear, making goosebumps erupt all over your body from the stimulation.

your legs are slightly opening against for minds precaution. you look up at your boyfriend as he leans in. mistakenly, you think that he’s giving you a kiss and your eyes flutter closed.

instead, your boyfriend’s finger pinch your thigh. you yelp loudly as connie erupts into laughter and you make sure to hit him softly before speed walking to the bathroom in embarrassment.

of course he makes sure to make it up to you by fucking you in the bathroom a couple minutes after ;)

EREN: the clingy drunk.

eren is the type of drunk that would not let you out of his sight. he wants to he with you at all times, especially if he’s drunk. he won’t want to be separated from you at all.

“where you goin?” he’ll slur, green eyes confused as you rise off of his lap. immediately he feels cold, lips turning up into a frown when you tell him you’ll be right back.

“n-no, babe .. why the fuck—where are you goin? tell me where you’re goin.” he says slowly, green eyes low lidded with the haze of the blunt and 3 shots of tequila he’d had.

“eren, i’m going to be right back.” you try to tell him again, but your words fall on deaf ears. instead, your boyfriend grabs your arm and pulls you back into his lap.

“not fuckin’ going anywhere.” he mumbles, burying his face into your neck. his breath is shallow and hot as it fans over your skin. you sigh and squirm, trying to get out of his hold. eren’s fingers lightly pinch your thigh .. a quiet warning from him. he may have been drunk, but he wasn’t too drunk to take you upstairs and spank you in line.

“i have to pee ren. please.” you say, trying to pull your boyfriends hands off of your body. eren lets out a dramatic groan when he lets go of you, frowning as he watches you walk away from him.

after you finish doing your business in the bathroom, you open the door to leave only to see eren. he gives you a lazy smile as he pushes you back in the bathroom.

“ren, don’t do this here. please. i can’t be quiet.” you whimper, feeling his hands reach up your dress. his fingers slip into your panties and he gently tugs the down slightly .. just enough to reach up and prod a finger through your soaked folds.

“i just need—fuck, i just wanna fuckin taste you for a minute.” his speech is slurred and messed up, no doubt a result of how fucking drunk and high he was.

you are never letting him get this drunk again.

should i do a pt 2????

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luvbugs-blog · 9 days ago

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love island — aot edition !

✎ᝰ — aot boys on love island

★ — eren, connie, reiner, jean x reader

★ — genre + warnings: fluff + boys being boys, casa amor, connie and reiner are the REAL lover boys and no one can change my mind !!!

★ — a/n: i have a bat boys version on my other blog :)

꒰ EREN JAEGER ꒱

ꔛ everyone’s favorite pretty boy or highkey most hated in america, no in between. I feel like he’ll be either very miguel codex or slightly rob coded, aka either open asf or an “onion”

ꔛ he was quite friendly and engaged himself with everyone, platonically or romantically. he gave like a brotherly vibe or “best friend’s brother” vibe

ꔛ butttt I will say that eren was a bombshell that EVERY girl was swooning for and loved all the attention that he got. he was being indecisive on which girl he’d couple with cause he really wanted to get to know everyone

ꔛ a lot of people in america either disliked the way eren moved in the villa or understood where he was coming from. he honestly has tried multiple connections but it seems like none can click in a way that he wanted, no matter how much he tried :/

ꔛ as days and couplings pass, eren decides on the person that was for him, another new bombshell that everyone loved as well. your aura was radiating soft colors, friendly, kind, and a safe space for eren. ever since then, eren has been nothing but smiles, laughs, and always exuding soft love towards his couple

ꔛ with you, he felt like he could see himself in the end, make your relationship official, and show you off. he’s always smiling after you guy’s chats, talking about the outside world and expressing how much he adores you, slight flirting here and there but that’s typical eren

ꔛ every time you guys recoupled, eren’s speeches were short and sweet. some of them weren’t his best but it was still cute how he tries to express himself for you

ꔛ neowwww casa amor, I fear all his respect flew out the window and he just did his own thing. did he think about his couple from time to time? sort of….but he did excuse himself by saying he was testing yall connection (typical male behavior). though, during the casa recoupling he felt his heart drop when he came back with another girl and saw you standing all by themselves, dolled up and waiting with open arms. just to be embarrassed by this man and the girl who stole all his attention

ꔛ for days, he would try to win you back but he started feeling like there was no going back after casa. he made breakfast, wrote cute notes, talk to your friends, any and everything he tried all he can to win them back. in the end, he accepted his actions, the feelings he hurt, and broke it off with the girl he brought back. even after that, he kept up with the little actions to show how sorry he is and slowly won his way into america’s heart :)

ꔛ in the end, eren got eliminated before the final 4. he wasn’t mad at it, sulked a bit cause he’ll miss his friends and all the amazing people he met but he does understand why he didn’t make it to the end. also gave himself time to enjoy you in the real world and potentially become a real couple

꒰ CONNIE SPRINGER ꒱

ꔛ oh connie, the lover everyone wants in their lives. he’s so kordell coded, it’s actually sick just thinking about it; he’s charming, sweet, patient, and funny asf. he was america’s favorite boy and you can tell he definitely didn’t mind the attention

ꔛ I would say he’s an og and got along well with everyone, however didn’t really have a connection. he was in a couple but that didn’t necessarily work out and it kinda broke him, he thought he was gonna be eliminated and don’t experience the love he deserves :/

ꔛ but God bless, you came in as a bombshell and stole that boy’s heart quickly. the boys teased him about how they can practically see heart eyes in connie’s eyes as you entered, but can you blame him? you were stunning, your outfit fitted you well, and your beauty made his pound, he thought he could it for a second

ꔛ ever since you entered, he was all over you and pulling you into multiple chats. he really wanted to get to know you and beg that there could be something between the two of you and there was! it wasn’t there initially but as time passed, you felt giddy when you saw him :)

ꔛ throughout your time with him, he would rave on about how much he adores you, compliment your appearance and personality, doing everything in his willpower to show how much he genuinely likes you. he didn’t force himself on you, he gave you enough space and let you figure out where you stand with him

ꔛ the first time, y’all coupled together, oh that boy was grinning ear to earrrrrr. your speech wowed him and made him fall for you even more. as he approached you, and spun you around, he just can’t get over you he can’t help it. it feels like bright colors and giddiness as he was around you

ꔛ oh casa amor was his BIGGEST villain. he contemplated on staying but the boys convinced him that this will be like a mini vacation from the villa, trust them!! oh how he wish he didn’t listen…

ꔛ casa was fun and he did enjoy the girls that he met, he kept his distance as well and tried to respect himself for those three days. however this one girl was just temptation in a bikini; batting her eyes, touching him in all the right places, knowing exactly what to say to win cornelius over and I fear it worked….

ꔛ one kiss outside challenges and connie became allured by this girl. his hands on her body, enjoyed being sweet talk by her, being clouded by everything she says and does. well, ‘til the morning after, he wakes up and realizes how great of a mess he made for himself. he kissed another girl which lead him into a slight panic cause he won’t know how you’ll handle the news; his heart dropped to his ass when he realized how much he disrespected you

ꔛ the recoupling after casa wasn’t the prettiest, even when he didn’t walk in with ole girl. he did enough in casa and bringing that girl back would’ve done more collateral damage. however, when he received news that you knew what happened, he knew he couldn’t recover from it. he became apologetic as you stood there with an emotion that was anything but excited or happy to see him

ꔛ he spent, and I mean DAYSSSSS, winning you back. he would try what eren did and he went above and beyond to win you back. cooking you breakfast, apologizing daily, write notes, pull you for a chat and try to explain himself, tell you how much he missed you during casa, and try to convince you how sorry he was. it hurts him extremely that you’re upset with him instead of joking and smiling with him like you guys used to, and he was even more hurt when he found out how much you cried while casa and after casa

ꔛ america screamed at you to please take him back cause he’s trying to prove himself that he does like you and didn’t wanna hurt you like he did. y/n pleaseeeee take him back, he’s been silently sobbing in his bed for four days cause he missed you :(

ꔛ the recoupling where you did forgive him, oh he almost lost it (in a good way). he almost cried when you chose him cause he misses your presence, your chats, your beauty, everything about you and no one could have replaced that for him. he didn’t want any chance to ruin what y’all built AGAIN, no matter how tempting

ꔛ connie made it to the final four and won WOOOOOO!!! america already loved him but the dedication and his authenticity to win you back made the perfect love story to win america over. I mean who doesn’t love male groveling ;) ?

꒰ REINER BRAUN ꒱

ꔛ THE BIG, SOFT BLONDIE <33333. he’s kind, sweet, a great helper, extremely understanding, and always there for others. he grew such great bonds with everyone and everyone in the villa loved him from day one

ꔛ an og in the villa that seems to be the most favorited but can you blame them? plus, he wears his heart on his sleeve and isn’t afraid to express himself with every person he’s interested in. he enjoyed his chats with everyone but he enjoyed yours the most, you bring this sort of energy that reiner can’t point out but adores it so well

ꔛ he instantly clicked with you from day one and expressed how much he’s interested in getting to know you. ever since then, you guys were joint at the hip and barely leaving each other’s side, and everyone in the villa always comment how much you two complement each other as you’re together

ꔛ he held your hand during your chats, let you lay on him, give you his full attention, giving you everything you need to know how much he’s invested in you. small compliments, breakfast with your fave drink, made you fruit bowls for snacks, given massages here and there, gave you small kisses, the list can go on how much reiner did for you

ꔛ every time the guys joked about how down bad reiner is, he just took it and agreed. he doesn’t mind being mister romantic for his couple, even after bombshells would pull him for dates and/or chats. he always found himself running back to you <3

ꔛ america’s lover boy and they couldn’t hate him one bit and the amount of fangirls he got? oh goodness, now everyone wants a reiner in their life

ꔛ oh reiner hated casa amor, he liked that he let himself experience it but one kiss outside challenges made you realize how much he missed you. he missed being your arms, he missed your smile, he missed your presence that brought him an immense amount of comfort and happiness. he could barely bare being without you

ꔛ thankfully, all the casa girls gave up and stopped trying to go after him from how much he sulked about missing you

ꔛ after casa was a bit….off. reiner was a bit anxious to tell you that he kissed someone and was scared that you were gonna leave him, he couldn’t let that happen! he worked up the courage to tell you and was ready to accept any sort of punishment that could come, including being apologetic until he was back on your good graces

ꔛ you and reiner ended up either being runners up or the winners! america couldn’t get enough of this big softie who had so much admiration and respect for his couple. he didn’t mind the results, he was just ready to get out the villa and make everything official with you <3

꒰ JEAN KIRSTEIN ꒱

ꔛ at first, america wasn’t really a fan of jean, just like with eren. came off a bit conceited but that ddin’t stop anyone to explore jean and they very much didn’t regret it

ꔛ I would say jean is also an og who quickly hit it off with the guys. some of the girls, not as quick or not as close as he wished to be. there was one person whom he wished he hit it off but it just couldn’t click for a period of time (you)

ꔛ it kinda hurt jean a bit that you guys didn’t get along romantically but it didn’t stop him from wanting to explore you with every chance he got. he’d pull you for chats, do small, romantic gestures, anything to get you

ꔛ even as he was coupled up, he made it clear that he was still open until the recoupling where the boys chose. oh jean was elated to be ready to pick you, his speech was so pretty and emphasized his growing crush on you

ꔛ as episodes passed on, they realized how much of a sweetheart jean is. his recoupling speeches were always thought out and held nothing back. he also made it a habit to kiss your cheek every time you guys recoupled

ꔛ there was a time where a bombshell stole jean and he did explore her. however, that was short filled and fizzled into just friends, mans was just too stuck on you

ꔛ mannnn, casa amor, oh casa amor. he didn’t mind going to casa, as he approached it with the mindset that he was just testing yall relationship, right? wrong! those three days lead to jean explore in a way that even he didn’t expect out of him. it’s not that he didn’t care about his couple but he sure tricked himself into that he was testing himself and boy did he fail!!!

ꔛ to make things worse than he already is, he brought a girl back like wtf. as you stood there, looking stunning waiting for jean, he brings in a girl and your heart shattered. you thought he genuinely liked you but now it seems to be a different reality of who jean is

ꔛ jean didn’t explain himself, he tried to but every excuse had himself look lousy. he gave up and couldn’t even look in you the eyes. a tear trickled down on his face as he realized the the damage he has done

ꔛ time after casa, he would give you space but still pull you to tell you how sorry he is. at times, he would ditch his chosen casa girl to apologize and show how sorry he is. additionally, he was quick to cut things off with the girl which didn’t end well…

ꔛ you would question if he was being genuine and did he ever think about you during casa. he said he did and he completely regrets casa for even existing. he spent days upon days to show remorse for what he has done. he didn’t need to and shouldn’t have tested yall connection just to prove something to himself, and he knew that

ꔛ he started to lose faith that he might lose you forever, around the villa sulking and being lowly. even as the boys encouraged him, he couldn’t bear to accept their advice and would instead go to your friends to figure out what to do

ꔛ you did take him back after one night where yall sat in soul ties and he explained how heavy his heart felt from potentially losing you, sighs coming out when he saw that your doesn’t light up when you see him, or how you would dump him and be with another man. it was a hefty speech that that included extreme emotions, ‘I miss you’, ‘please take me back’, lengthy explanations on why you’re the one he wants and not the other girl, how he would change for himself and you. he’s saying anything so you could take him back and thankfully it worked in his favor

ꔛ in the end, jean ended up in third place :). he enjoyed his time in the villa and felt like he came out as better person, to himself and to you. after the villa, you guys continued to grow what you had and became official in the way of a beautiful picnic and a heartfelt love letter

𖥻 I miss writing for aot BADDDDDDD. like yall don’t understand how much I miss writing for my babies 😣

𖥻 here’s how I see it. connie is kordell, reiner is kenny but white, and eren is miguel. change my mind !!

𖥻 I wanted to make connie and reiner’s longer but had to stop myself 🧍🏽‍♀️. blame champagne coast by blood orange

𖥻 bye babes, drink your water and I love you MWAH 💕

𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐏 💗: ephesians 3:20-21. glory to be God, I love Him so much

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