#AND ARMINS VOICE MOST OF ALL

[holeforzenin]

A/n wrote this at 5am so I apologize for any errors! <3 also it's poorly written but I hope you guys still like it.

Yk what fucking drives me crazy the most?

Sweet innocent looking men that treats you so well, I'm talking like he writes you cute poems, follows you around everywhere like a lost puppy and gets all flustered and shy when you want to go to Victoria secret to get new bras and panties but he still goes in with you anyways with his hand clinging onto your arm instead of just leaving because anything for you!!. The way his face melts into your hand whenever you'd cup his cheeks, looking at you with those innocent puppy dog eyes then he places a gentle kiss on your hand. Like he's just such a cutie you know? He'd let you do his makeup and let you baby him and feed him. Literally just anything you want he'd do it and lets you do. Whatever makes you happy.

And that same sweet innocent guy would have you against the wall, his strong arms holding you up, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he slams his hips against you, each thrust pushing you higher and higher against the wall as he let you drop back down on his fat cock after, and he's even noisier than you are, loud whimpers and groans escaping his lips as he stares at your face, feeling satisfied and happy that his thick cock is the reason for your cute fucked out expression and sweet moans that are like music to his ears. Your nails leaving long red marks on his shoulders and back that he's sooo proud of having, he loves it when you do that, it's like a reward to him for making you feel good. His big strong arms pressing your legs back even further up so your knees raised up by your shoulders, giving him a deeper angle as his cock brushed against the right spots inside you that made you see stars to the point where you can't even think straight.

"O-oh fuck! baby, need you to cum ple-ase, fuck! please, wanna see you make a mess on my cock please I'm begging you princess", his voice cracks as he whimpers it out to you. The sweet and innocent needy tone in his voice compared to his rough pounding like he fucking hates you and had to prove it was all it took for you to cream around him, nails digging deeply into his back as he's practically making out with your neck, kissing and sucking on the tender flesh, leaving a bunch of purple and red marks that's definitely going to make him all fluttered and shy when he sees them in a few hours, remembering about what happened earlier. His eyes rolling back when he feels you coating his cock with your cream and dripping all over him.

"Ngh! Oh fuck, Tha-nk you! Thank you so much, gon-na cum!". He cries out. Your toes curling as he sped up his pace, hammering his cock in a reckless pace into your poor cunt, his thick cock head kissing your cervix with each one of his deep thrusts as he greedily chases his orgasm. He made sure to have his cock so deep inside of you to the hilt so he can fill you up full of his cum as he painted your tight walls white, thick ropes of cum spurting out of his cock, stuffing your hungry cunt full as he lets out a shaky groan while planting his face in your neck. He starts breathing heavily, panting against your neck as you felt his cock twitching inside of you. And you know what? He slowly pulls it out of you, being sooo careful that he doesn't spill any cum as he grips on your thighs even tighter before getting on his knees and eating all of his cum out of your filthy stuffed cunt like the good boy he is, after all its his mess and well, yours also but he doesn't mind! he just wants to make it easier for you to clean you know? :(

Choso, Izuku, Armin,Yuuta, Zentisu, Kirishima, Yuuji, Kaneki, Toge.

[sparklykaminarii]

he hates you.

well actually- he doesn't. he loves you. he loves every single bit of you. whether it'd be the sweet laughter coming from your glossy lips. or the heart warming smile that makes his heart melt and his body feel all fuzzy and ecstatic.

but he also hates you. so fucking much. because what right did you have batting those pretty eyelashes at him? the faux innocence gleaming in your eyes. oh how he wishes he could rip that same innocent look right from your pretty little eyes, to turn you into his dirty little whore.

or how you accidentally dropped your phone on the floor at the restaurant. and bent all the way over to pick it up. although to you, that moment lasted for a mere couple of moments, to him though. the sight of your new red pretty panties being revealed to him would play in his mind over and over again.

he couldn't stand you. he hated your guts. not because of your personality. no- he found it endearing on how perfect you were both on the inside and outside. it wasn't how much you talked either, he loved hearing your angelic voice ramble on and on about the most silliest things. but he can't promise he was listening though. he was too busy imaging your voice doing much more than talking.

it was none of the above. it was actually the way you made him feel. now he doesn't mean the times when you'd be the only one to listen to him, the only one who put effort into listening and comforting him about his issues. neither was it the electricity that would shoot through his veins whenever you would give him a simple hug.

he hated how hard you made his cock. simply because he knows he shouldn't.

it pissed him off knowing that no matter what he did, that every night he'd be up late, laying in his messy bed. blinds shut, and door closed and locked. everything was dark in his room and the sound of the fan running filled the empty silence.

except there was no silence. how could there be? because alongside the sound of the fan spinning, there would be the sound of his fist angrily pumping his cock.

his eyes would be shut tightly too, leaning against his headboard as the thoughts of your new red lacy underwear were revealed to him a couple hours ago. was it wrong of him to know they were new? he didn't care right now though.

he didn't care about how morally wrong this all was. he knew he shouldn't be thinking about you in such lewd ways, but then again. it wasn't his fault? no. you knew what you were doing today.

at least that is what he's telling himself right now, as his hand rapidly slides up and down his shaft. the wet sounds now add to noises in his room, his shallow and breathy groans were barely audible too.

he wished it was your sweet slick walls though. he wishes you'd let him plunge into your cunt, to let him have his way with you. but instead it's his rough hands that tease his reddened tip.

gosh you were so so so stupid.

because now you have him thrusting up into his fist. the trembling orgasm approaching him quickly. now his room is loud. a hand over his mouth to muffle the pathetic whiney moans that leave his lips. although the muffling barely had an effect.

thighs trembling uncontrollably and his eyes are shut so tight nothing even feels real anymore. and soon enough it hits him. a loud unholy moan is all there is to be heard as the pacing of his fists come to a stop. his whole body twitches from the sudden rip of pleasure flooding all his senses.

tears even trickle on his waterline and his breathing becomes heavy and unstable. not to mention all the long sticky cream colored ropes then escape from his angry base. they land onto his upper thighs and abdomen. he sits there for a couple moments as he comes down from his high.

now he really wishes you were here.

so you could come clean the mess that you made.

SHIGARAKI, kirishima, IZUKU, gojo, tamaki, denki, chuuya, zenitsu, megumi, choso, REINER, armin, EREN, jean + ur favs

[mssishipi]

the fall of a man — sjy

SYNOPSIS: You were taught that virtue was a woman’s greatest strength, that temptation was a test of will, that desire was the serpent’s whisper leading you astray. But when temptation comes in the form of Sim Jaeyun—holy, untouchable, the very image of devotion—your faith begins to waver.

content tags: slow burn, plot with little bit of porn, mutual pining, both of them are religious and virgins, set in catholic university that is lead by nuns, they don't have sex ed!! adam and eve references, religious guilt, reader crushing and thirsting over jake in religious way that's been written for almost 5k words, some of the scenes are heavily inspired by 'guilty as sin' by ts.

warning: heavy sacrilegious content, karina kind of represent the serpent in reader's pov, blasphemy, explicit content (smut): reader masturbate in the chapel, virgins trying to fuck, virginity loss (obv), blowjob, fingering, unprotected sex (condom don't exist), jake call out god's name a lot of times. wc: 16.7k

note: my darling, @fangel really inspired me and make me overcome my fear in writing the most unholiest thing in the world, i'm inlove with you, bae and you really changed my world with your fics <3 i wrote this fic for armin arlert way back 2023 but never had the guts to publish it, but hey u give me a reason to continue this fic. and to my readers out there, i hope you enjoy reading this fic, i love writing jake's pov here :)

Ever since you were a child, you followed everything your parents told you. Raised in a devoutly religious household, your days revolved around faith—joining church activities, attending every Sunday mass without fail, even flying to Puerto Rico with your family to take part in Misa de Aguinaldo.

Religion wasn't just a part of your life; it was your life.

You loved God. You loved listening to preachers, absorbing their words like scripture carved into your soul. You loved spreading the message of Jesus Christ, the warmth of faith filling you every time you shared His name.

You prayed constantly—palms pressed together, head bowed, whispering words of gratitude for every blessing, of repentance for every misstep. You prayed for strength, for purity, for the will to resist temptation.

And yet—temptation had a name.

And his name is Sim Jaeyun.

You remember the first time you saw him walking through the gates of the Catholic university you both attended.

Jake Sim was the very embodiment of devotion, of unwavering faith. He carried himself with an air of holiness, always with a rosary wrapped around his fingers or a Bible tucked beneath his arm. He spoke with conviction, every word laced with the kind of certainty only true believers possessed. And yet, to you, he was something else entirely.

The way he moved, the way his voice echoed through the chapel—it was hypnotic. Your prayers would falter on your tongue whenever he stood at the altar, leading hymns with a voice so steady, so sure.

You had watched him, your eyes tracing the curve of his lips as he spoke, the way his lashes fluttered when he blinked. You had memorized the way candlelight danced across his skin, the way the veins in his hands shifted when he clasped them in prayer.

The boy who knelt before the cross with his eyes closed in deep, persistent faithfulness.

The boy who touched the rosary beads with such reverence, his fingers gliding over each one as if they held the weight of his salvation.

But all you could think about was how those same fingers would feel tracing the lines of your body, how they would press into your skin—not in prayer, but in something far more sinful.

How his lips would taste if they weren't murmuring scripture, if instead, they whispered your name in the dark.

How his faith would crumble if he ever looked at you the way you wanted him to.

And as you sat in the pews, hands clasped, head bowed, you prayed—not for strength, not for purity, but for him.

You shouldn't think about him that way. You shouldn't let your mind wander, not here, not in the house of God.

You knew the weight of sin, the warnings etched into you since childhood. Your family had made it clear—masturbation, desire, sex before marriage—each was a path to damnation. To act on them was to betray God.

Do not lay a hand on any boy. Do not think of flesh, of pleasure, of sin. Do not touch your body with thoughts of another.

But if you had never touched him, never let your hands stray to your own skin —if all you had were thoughts, then how could you already feel guilty as sin?

The golden light of the late afternoon filtered through the stained-glass windows of the university chapel, casting soft hues of red, blue, and gold onto the polished wooden pews. The air was still, filled only with the faint scent of old parchment and melting candle wax.

You sat near the front, fingers absentmindedly tracing the spine of your prayer book. The chapel was mostly empty, save for a few students lingering in quiet reflection. And him.

Sim Jaeyun stood near the altar, carefully arranging hymnals. Even in the simplicity of his tasks, there was a quiet devotion to him—an unshaken faith that made it impossible to look away.

You tried to focus on the words of the scripture open in front of you, but your thoughts were restless. It wasn't the first time you had stayed after midday prayers, and it wasn't the first time you had found yourself stealing glances at him.

A quiet sound of footsteps against the marble floor.

"You're here again."

You glanced up to find Jake standing at the edge. You nodded, offering a small smile. "I like the chapel in the afternoon. It's peaceful."

Jake hummed in agreement, sliding into the pew beside you, though he kept a respectful distance. "It's my favorite time, too," he admitted, clasping his hands together. "When the day is slowing down, but the world isn't quite asleep yet."

You studied him for a moment, watching as the sunlight touched his face, illuminating the softness in his features. "What do you pray for?" you asked.

Jake exhaled, his gaze fixed ahead. "For strength," he said. "To always follow the right path."

You nodded slowly, looking down at your hands.

"And you?" he asked.

You hesitated. You knew what you should say. Strength. Wisdom. Purity.

But instead, you murmured, "For understanding."

Jake turned to you, brow slightly furrowed. "Understanding?"

You swallowed. "There are... thoughts I don't always understand." You hesitated, fingers tightening around the pages of your prayer book. "And I ask for guidance. To know what is right."

For a moment, Jake was silent, then he offered a small, knowing smile. "God sees our hearts even when we struggle to see them ourselves." His voice was gentle and reassuring. "Sometimes, we don't need to have all the answers. We just need to trust Him to show us the way."

His words should have comforted you. But as you looked at him—at the boy who made your heart race in ways you couldn't explain—you weren't sure if the path you longed for was the one God had intended for you.

Sim Jaeyun barely even knew you. The two of you only shared a religion class, occasionally finding yourselves in the same prayer group. Your interactions were brief—just passing glances, a quiet exchange of smiles. Sometimes, after kneeling in prayer, he would hand you a sandwich and a bottle of water and you always accepted with a small nod of thanks, though the warmth in your chest lingered long after.

During every community outreach, you would catch glimpses of him—kneeling to pet stray dogs and cats, laughter spilling from his lips as children clung to his arms, their tiny hands gripping at his sleeves. He spoke to the elderly with a patience and gentleness that felt almost sacred, offering up his seat without hesitation, carrying their bags.

He was the kind of person people gravitated toward, the kind of person who made faith feel tangible—something living and breathing, rather than just words in a book.

You wondered if someone like him, someone pure as gold, ever sinned.

Sim Jaeyun was a name whispered often in the girls' residence hall. Every night, as curfew neared, you would hear them murmuring from their bunks.

"He'd make such a good husband." "Imagine him as a father—he'd be perfect." "Any girl would be lucky to have him."

A quiet admiration, soft and innocent. So why was yours so much heavier? So much more?

Why did yours feel like something that sat in your chest, something that pressed against your ribs with every prayer, something that burned?

"Your body is sacred."

The nun's voice rang through the classroom. She moved slowly between the rows of desks, the wooden stick in her hand tapping lightly against her palm with every step.

It was an all-girls class since she was teaching anatomy. But this wasn't just about the body. It was about purity.

She stopped near the front of the room, turning to face the class. Her gaze swept over each of you, as if she could see straight into your thoughts. "God has given you this body," she continued. "A temple. A gift. A vessel meant for holiness, not for sin."

You swallowed, shifting slightly in your seat.

"Temptation is everywhere," she said. "It creeps into your thoughts, into your hands, into the desires you do not speak of. But hear me, girls—"God is watching.""

The stick tapped against her palm again.

"Masturbation," she said, the word itself feeling heavy as it filled the silence, "is a sin against your own flesh. To lay a hand upon yourself in lust is to defile what was meant to be pure."

A hush settled over the room. Some girls looked down at their desks, others sat rigid, eyes wide, hands folded neatly in their laps as if to prove they had never done such a thing—never even thought about it.

You felt a heat crawl up the back of your neck.

"When you indulge in these acts," she continued, voice sharp with a warning, "your body burns—not with passion, not with pleasure, but with sin. A fire that does not cleanse, but corrupts."

She paused, her gaze sweeping the room again,

"And when you engage in sex outside of marriage, when you surrender yourself to the desires of the flesh, that fire does not leave you. It stays. It marks you. And on the day of judgment, when you stand before God, He will see it. He will know."

A shudder ran through you. You clenched your hands together, nails pressing into your palms.

Then, the nun's eyes landed on you.

"You understand, don't you?" she asked, though it wasn't really a question.

Your lips parted slightly, but no words came.

And just for a moment, you thought of him.

Sim Jaeyun.

Of the way his fingers brushed over rosary beads in prayer. Of the way his voice sounded when he spoke of faith, of devotion. Of how those hands, that voice, could ruin you.

And as the nun continued, warning of damnation, of the watchful eyes of God, you couldn't help but wonder.

If God was watching, did He already know what was in your heart? And worse—had He already condemned you for it?

"Yes, I understand," you said, though the words felt heavy on your tongue.

Guilt settled deep in your chest. Your palms were damp, fingers twitching slightly as you clasped them together.

You needed to repent.

You needed to pray until the thoughts left you, until the weight of sin lifted from your heart. Until the fire the nun spoke of no longer burned beneath your skin.

"Here, an apple for you."

A small hand reached toward yours, fingers curled around a tiny, imperfect apple. The child's eyes were bright with innocence, his smile wide as he offered it to you.

It was community outreach day in the mountains, where children ran barefoot over the uneven ground, laughter ringing through the crisp afternoon air. The scent of earth and firewood lingered, mingling with the distant voices of volunteers.

You knelt slightly, accepting the apple with a gentle smile. "Thank you," you said, your voice soft.

The boy beamed, pleased by your gratitude before running off to join the others.

You were about to take a bite of the apple when a sudden tap on your shoulder made you pause. Turning, you found your classmate standing behind you, her expression impatient.

"I need you to find Karina," she said, arms crossed. "She's missing again. And we need to leave by three."

You sighed, tucking the apple into your pocket. "Alright, I'll look for her."

With that, you made your way up the stone steps leading further into the hills, where the trees grew denser and the voices of the other volunteers faded into the rustling of leaves. The fresh mountain air brushed against your skin, carrying the scent of damp earth and woodsmoke.

As you climbed higher, a small tug on your sleeve made you stop.

"Lady, where are you going?"

You looked down to see a little girl standing beside you, her dark eyes round with curiosity. She was sucking her thumb, her tiny fingers clutching the fabric of your shirt.

Crouching down to her level, you offered a reassuring smile. "I need to find my friend."

The girl tilted her head, studying you with the kind of seriousness only children could manage. Then, after a moment, she leaned in slightly and whispered, "Be careful out there."

You raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

She pulled her thumb from her mouth and grinned, baring her tiny teeth. "There's a snake," she hissed, making a slithering motion with her hands. "They bite!"

You laughed, shaking your head. "I'll be careful."

With a gentle pat on the girl's head, you urged her to go play with the others before continuing your search.

"Karina!" you called, your voice echoing through the trees. The afternoon air was with the scent of damp earth and pine, the only sounds around you the rustling of leaves and the distant chatter of children below.

After what felt like ages of wandering, you sighed, pulling the apple from your pocket. Your thumb brushed against its smooth surface as you took slow steps forward, letting yourself take a small break.

Then, just as you were about to take a bite, something caught your eye.

It was small cabin, worn by time, tucked between the trees. You hadn't noticed it before, hadn't even realized anyone lived this far up the mountain.

Lifting your head, you parted your lips to call for Karina again but you heard a low, quiet, barely audible voice over the wind.

Your breath hitched slightly, and instinctively, you stayed silent.

Tilting your head, you slowly took a bite of the apple, the crunch loud in the stillness. Step by step, you moved around the cabin, careful not to make a sound.

You crept closer, your breath shallow, your fingers curled tightly around the apple. The rough wooden cabin stood against the trees, its single window slightly ajar. Through the gap, the muffled voices inside grew clearer—soft murmurs, hushed laughter.

A breathless moan.

Your body tensed, You hesitated for only a moment before tilting your head, peering through the dust-coated glass.

And that's when you saw the most sinful acts you've ever witness.

Karina was sprawled against the wooden table, her back arching beneath the weight of the farmer pressing into her. Her dress was bunched up around her waist, her bare thighs caging his hips. His hands gripped her skin, fingers digging into the softness of her legs, his mouth trailing down the curve of her neck.

Your stomach twisted, but you couldn't look away.

Karina wasn't resisting. She wasn't recoiling in shame or horror. There was no fear in her expression, no sign of guilt or repentance.

She was pulling him closer.

Her fingers wove into his hair, tugging slightly as her head fell back, exposing more of her throat to his lips. Her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, her mouth parting with quiet, trembling gasps.

Your heartbeat thundered in your ears.

The nun's words echoed in your head, warnings of fire, of suffering, of bodies burning for their sins.

But Karina wasn't burning.

Your breath trembled as you stared, as the world you had known���the one built on prayer, on restraint, on the fear of temptation—began to splinter.

How is she not burning?

The apple slipped from your fingers, tumbling to the ground with a dull thud.

A hiss was heard. The sound was sharp, unnatural, cutting through the silence of the forest. Your body stiffened, a cold shiver crawling up your spine. Slowly, your gaze flickered to the tree beside you.

A snake. Its body coiled around the rough bark, scales glistening in the fading sunlight. It was watching you, its tongue flickering out.

Eve was tempted. Eve took the fruit.

Your stomach twisted violently as you staggered back, tearing your eyes away from both the serpent and the scene inside the cabin.

You ran. Branches scraped against your skin as you pushed through the trees, your feet barely touching the ground. The echoes of Karina's breathless moans clung to you, no matter how fast you tried to outrun them.

You needed to forget. To erase the moment of sin that had burned itself into your mind. To cleanse yourself before the weight of temptation swallowed you whole.

"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee..."

Your eyes clenched shut as you muttered the prayer, over and over, you repeated the words, as if their rhythm alone could cleanse your mind, could undo what you had seen.

The rosary felt heavy in your hands, the beads pressing into your palm. But no matter how tightly you held it, no matter how desperately you clung to prayer, the memory would not leave you.

"Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus."

You sucked in a sharp breath, your chest tightening.

"Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners—"

Your voice broke. This was your fall.

A single tear slipped down your cheek, then another, until you were gripping the rosary so tightly your knuckles turned white. A quiet sniffle escaped you, but the tears kept coming, blurring the dim candlelight of the chapel.

You could not stop trembling, your stomach tightening, a dull ache spreading between your legs, heat pooling where it should not.

Your thighs pressed together instinctively, but it did nothing to stop the throbbing. You clenched your fists, willing the sensation away, but the images had already taken root.

Karina. The farmer. The way her body had arched into him, how she had clung to him. It should have horrified you. It should have disgusted you.

Instead, a shudder ran through you as your mind betrayed you, as the image shifted, reshaped itself into something far more forbidden.

Not Karina.

You.

And not the farmer.

Jake.

Your breath hitched. The thought was wrong—blasphemous. But it came unbidden, vivid and consuming, slipping into the cracks of your mind like sin itself. You saw him above you, his hands gripping your waist, his lips murmuring something against your skin.

Your rosary slipped from your fingers, the beads scattering against the marble floor.

You gasped softly, snapping your eyes open as if waking from a dream—no, a nightmare.

Your hands flew to your chest, pressing against your heart as if you could smother the racing beat beneath your skin.

No. No, no, no.

Tears welled in your eyes again, this time not just from guilt but from fear—of yourself.

This was your fall.

The serpent had coiled itself around you, whispering its venom into your ears, seeping into your thoughts, your body.

Karina was expelled after the nuns discovered what she had done during the community outreach.

You helped her pack in silence, folding the last of her skirts into a worn-out suitcase.

Your nose was red, your eyes swollen—for many reasons. Of course, you hadn't told anyone what you saw. That was yet another reason you were a sinner. You had kept her secret, watched in silence as she was cast out.

But worse—you couldn't stop thinking about it.

And worst of all, you had lost another prayer partner.

Your voice was quiet when you finally asked, "Do you regret it?"

Karina's hands stilled over the fabric of her blouse. She stared at the ground for a long moment before exhaling slowly. "No."

"They're sending me away," she continued. "Some isolated place, far from men. Away from temptation. They'll make me enter seminary, force me to repent, try to fix me."

She let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. "Fix me. As if I'm broken."

You said nothing, letting her words settle between you.

Karina turned then, her gaze finding yours. "But I don't regret it. No matter what they try to tell me." A small, humorless smile tugged at her lips. "But you wouldn't understand, would you?"

Your fingers curled into the fabric of her dress as you folded it, staring at the delicate lace trim. "There are a lot of things I don't understand," you admitted. Then, meeting her eyes, you added, "But I do not judge. I am here to listen."

Karina studied you, her expression is pained. Then she let out a slow breath, sitting on the edge of the bed. "You know the story of Adam and Eve," she said.

You nodded. "Of course."

"They call it the fall," she murmured, tilting her head slightly. "But have you ever thought that maybe it wasn't a fall at all?"

You frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, her fingers intertwined. "Eve took the apple. She chose knowledge, chose to know desire, hunger, craving. And for that, she was cast out." Karina exhaled through her nose, a bitter smile on her lips. "But maybe that was never a punishment. Maybe it was freedom."

She glanced at you then, "Christianity tells us that craving is sinful. That wanting—whether it's knowledge, pleasure, or love—will ruin us." Her voice lowered, "but tell me—why would God give us bodies that feel if He didn't want us to use them?"

Your throat felt dry.

"You've thought about it, haven't you?" Karina questioned. "You've felt it."

Heat crept up your neck, shame curling tight in your stomach.

Karina smiled, but it wasn't mocking. If anything, it was knowing. "It's normal to crave, you know," she said. "To want."

"In the city," Karina continued, "I heard students openly talk about sex. About how it's natural. They even discuss things like hormones, the way the body reacts to desire. When your clitoris—"

"Shhh!" Your eyes widened as you shot a panicked glance toward the door. Your hand moved on instinct, pressing against her lips to silence her.

"Do not use such vulgar words!" you hissed, even hearing such a thing felt wrong, like an invitation for sin to take root inside you.

Karina only laughed, she gently pulled your hand away, her lips curling into a teasing smile. "Why? Because the nuns don't want you to know your own body?"

Your cheeks burned, your fingers curling into your lap as you looked away. "Because it's wrong," you muttered. "You speak of things that lead to damnation."

Karina sighed, tilting her head. "Says who? The nuns? The ones who tell us that touching ourselves will set our bodies on fire?" She leaned in slightly, "Tell me, have you ever actually tried it?"

Your breath hitched as you swallowed, your pulse hammering against your skin. "I—I would never—"

Karina smiled knowingly. "Of course you wouldn't. Because you're afraid, aren't you?"

You stiffened. "Afraid of what?"

"That they were lying to you," she said simply.

You stared at her, Karina reached for your hand, her touch gentle as she placed it over your own lap. "If it's really so sinful," she murmured, "if it really makes you burn... then why don't you test it?"

Your breath caught in your throat. Her fingers pressed lightly against yours. "Go on. Just once. Just to see if their words hold any truth."

"If you want to touch yourself," she continued, undeterred by your silence, "put your fingers inside—but don't just push in and out. Curl them inside, find the spot that makes your legs shake."

Your entire body went rigid as Karina leaned closer, her lips curling, almost amused at your reaction. "And your clitoris—"

"Stop," you gasped, eyes widening as you instinctively clamped a hand over her mouth. Your other hand flew to the door, your head snapping toward it, terrified that someone might hear.

She giggled against your palm, her laughter muffled before she gently pulled your hand away. "Why are you so scared?" she teased. "It's just your body. It's natural."

Your cheeks were burning now, hot with embarrassment.

Karina sighed, tilting her head as if she pitied you. "If you ever do find someone," she continued, undeterred, "a boy—"

You swallowed hard.

"Let him play with your nipples." Her voice dipped lower, as if she were sharing a secret meant only for you. "Let him suck them, bite them just a little. It feels so good."

Your thighs clenched involuntarily.

"And a boy," she went on, eyes glinting with mischievous, "his penis—"

"Karina!"

She laughed, completely unashamed of her own words. "What? It's true! If you want to make a boy weak, touch him there. Play with it, stroke it, suck on it—especially the tip."

A choked sound escaped you.

"Giving someone pleasure," she said, watching your reaction, "is just as enjoyable as receiving it. Maybe even more."

Your hands trembled in your lap. You couldn't even look at her now. Your mind felt clouded, a war raging between every lesson the nuns had taught you and the curiosity her words planted deep inside you.

Karina exhaled, shaking her head. "You poor thing," she murmured, you bit your lip hard, trying to drown out the heat rising in your body with pain.

"You should try it, you know," she said after a beat, her voice almost gentle now. "Just once. Just so you know if they were lying to you all along."

Your chest tightened, your heart hammering so loudly you feared it might betray you.

Because the worst part wasn't her words.

It was that you wanted to know if she was right.

So you repented again.

You prayed and prayed for forgiveness, whispering desperate pleas beneath your breath, pressing your forehead against the cold chapel floor. You gripped your rosary so tightly that the beads left indentations in your palm, as if pain itself could cleanse you.

But it was getting harder. Especially now, with Holy Week approaching. Longer prayers, deeper fasting, more time spent in solemn reflection. And yet, the more you immersed yourself in worship, the more temptation gnawed at you.

Especially since Sim Jaeyun was the one leading Passion Week.

You sat among the others, hands folded in your lap, your gaze fixed on the cross, trying not to think about him. Trying not to remember Karina's words.

"If you ever find someone, let him touch you, let him play with you—"

You swallowed hard, clenching your fists against your thighs.

Women and men were not allowed to be seen too close together. A proper distance must always be kept, a respectable space left between bodies. A simple conversation was permitted—but only from afar.

"You do pray very often."

The voice came from behind you. You stiffened, your breath catching in your throat as you turned slightly—only to find him.

Jake stood just a few feet away, hands clasped in front of him. "Is something bothering you?"

You turned back toward the cross, swallowing the lump in your throat. Your fingers curled against your knees, sweat forming at your temples.

"No," you whispered, though the lie burned on your tongue.

Jake was silent for a moment. Then, softly, he said, "You can talk to me, you know. If something is troubling you."

You closed your eyes. How could you tell him?

How could you tell him that the prayers weren't working? That no matter how hard you tried, the thoughts would not leave you? That he was becoming the temptation you could no longer escape?

Your eyes started to water again, he knelt beside you, as his presence settled so dangerously close—closer than what was proper.

Your eyes burned with unshed tears, your fingers tightening around the rosary.

Jake watched you. From this close, he could see the way the candlelight illuminated your face, casting soft shadows along the delicate curve of your cheekbones. Your skin glowed, almost ethereal, as if touched by something divine.

You looked like a painting—one of the old Renaissance depictions of saints and martyrs.

Beautiful.

His gaze drifted lower, to the way your lips barely moved as you whispered prayers, the words shaky, your hands trembled over the rosary, clutched so tightly.

His eyes fell to your knees. The fabric of your skirt had shifted slightly, revealing the barest hint of bruised skin—evidence of hours spent kneeling.

He had seen piety before. He had witnessed countless prayers, watched the most devout of worshippers bow their heads in absolute faith.

But this—the way you prayed, the way you looked before the altar—felt different. He couldn't imagine what sin someone like you could have possibly committed.

His voice came quietly, "You should rest."

You flinched slightly at the sound of his voice,

"I can't," you murmured.

And then softly, without thinking—he reached out.

His hand hovered over yours for just a breath before settling atop your trembling fingers. Palm to palm, warm and steady, stopping you mid-prayer.

He didn't know what possessed him to touch you. Perhaps it was the way you looked so lost, so utterly consumed by something unseen. Or perhaps it was the fact that no nun was watching, no one to scold him for standing too close, for placing his hand over yours.

His touch was meant to be assuring. Nothing more. Nothing sinful.

But then you stiffened beneath him.

Your breath caught in your throat, your shoulders going rigid, your fingers twitching beneath his. Your heartbeat slammed against your ribs.

You turned your face toward him.

Jake sucked in a quiet breath as his eyes met yours—wide, desperate, a single tear slipping down your cheek.

He had never seen a gaze like that before. Not in church, not in prayer, not in the face of someone seeking salvation.

His fingers flexed slightly against yours, the warmth of your skin radiating beneath his palm. His thumb brushed against the back of your hand, a slow, instinctive movement, like a silent reassurance.

Before he could stop himself, his other hand lifted. Gently, hesitantly, he swiped away the tear that had slipped down your cheek, his fingertips barely grazing your skin.

You gasped softly. It was the smallest sound, but it sent something through him, something that made his fingers linger just a second too long against your face.

Your skin was warm beneath his touch. Soft. Alive.

It took everything in him to pull away.

The moment his fingers left your cheek, a strange kind of loss settled in his chest. He reached into his pocket, fingers brushing against the fabric of his handkerchief before carefully pulling it out. Silently, he placed it in your trembling hands.

"Whatever you were praying for," he murmured, "I'm sure God will understand."

As if to anchor you back into the faith you were grasping so desperately onto, he smiled.

The kind of smile meant to bring comfort. But to you, it only made it worse.

"I should go," Jake said, you nodded, unable to meet his gaze. He shift beside you, the soft rustling of fabric as he stood. His presence lingered for just a moment longer before the sound of his footsteps echoed against the chapel floor, growing fainter.

And yet, his warmth remained.

Your hands trembled as you lifted the handkerchief to your face, pressing it against your damp cheeks. His scent clung to the fabric—a faint trace of sandalwood and incense, something undeniably him.

You exhaled shakily, squeezing your eyes shut.

God will understand.

A broken sob escaped your lips as you clutched the fabric tighter, your body trembling with something you no longer had the strength to fight. Tears slipped freely down your cheeks, soaking into the handkerchief as you sniffled against it.

Your fingertips skimmed over the waistband of your skirt, then lower, brushing against the thin fabric beneath.

A sharp breath left you when you felt the wetness, sticky and warm, pooling between your thighs, evidence of the thoughts you had failed to purge.

You should stop. You should repent.

And yet, your other hand only tightened around the handkerchief, pressing it closer to your face, inhaling the faint traces of him.

Still kneeling, you stared at the cross before you. Your body trembled, shame curling in your stomach.

You sobbed, your weight tipping forward, forehead pressing against the marble floor. Your free hand clenched at your skirt, your knuckles white with restraint.

Your finger dipped inside, a choked gasp slipping past your lips at the sudden intrusion.

The feeling was new, startling and unfamiliar. You hesitated only for a moment before pressing deeper, your body clenching around the touch, breath hitching as pleasure licked up your spine.

The nuns had warned you—the body will burn.

But as your fingers curled, as something electric shot through your legs, making them tremble, you realized this was not pain nor suffering.

Your mouth parted, a quiet, breathless sound escaping as you rocked into your own touch, your other hand bracing against the marble floor to steady yourself, the overwhelming scent of him filling your senses.

Sim Jaeyun—his hands hovering over yours, the warmth of his palm against your trembling fingers, the way he had wiped away your tear.

Your fingers pressed deeper, and a soft gasp escaped your lips. You imagined it was his touch, his fingers exploring you with hesitant curiosity.

"You do pray very often," his voice echoed in your mind, "Is something bothering you?"

Yes, he was bothering you.

You pictured him above you, his fingers tracing over the same places your own were now.

"Does it burn?" he would ask, voice laced with something both sinful and sacred.

And you would shake your head—because it didn't.

It felt holy.

Your body arched into your own touch, your legs trembling as heat coiled deep inside you, tighter and tighter, threatening to consume you whole. The pressure, the ache, the need—it was overwhelming. It was blasphemous.

Yet, it was the closest you had ever felt to salvation.

A gasp tore from your lips, soft yet sinful in the silence of the chapel. Your fingers pushed deeper, your body rocking to meet them, each movement sending dizzying waves of pleasure through you.

Beads of sweat dripped from your forehead, falling onto the floor. You added another finger, stretching yourself further, testing the limits of your own body. A choked whimper escaped as your walls clenched around the intrusion, your breathing ragged. Your other hand fumbled against the floor, grasping for stability, but there was none—no safety, no sanctuary, no way to stop now.

You think about his hands on your waist, his lips trailing down your neck. Your body tensed, your fingers working faster, chasing the edge of an unknown pleasure that built higher and higher—until it was too much, too much.

With one final, shuddering breath, the world shattered around you. Your body trembled, pleasure crashing over you in violent waves, a silent cry caught in your throat as your mind went blank.

Your body slumped forward, forehead pressing against the cool marble floor, your fingers slipping out as the aftershocks of pleasure left you breathless.

There was only silence. Only your heaving breaths, the scent of candle wax and incense thick in the air, the fading echoes of his name somewhere in the depths of your mind.

Then, guilt settled in, so heavy. You had really fallen.

And yet, as you lay there, pulse still racing, you couldn't bring yourself to repent.

The days blurred into nights, and with each passing moment, you felt yourself slipping further into something you could no longer control.

You couldn't meet your own reflection anymore. The girl in the mirror was not the same—her eyes hollow with guilt, her lips parted in silent prayer that never reached the heavens. You had abandoned the comfort of your rosary, leaving it untouched on your bedside table. Even the scent of candle wax and incense, once a balm to your soul, now felt suffocating.

It was as if a devil had settled inside you, whispering in your ear, feeding your thoughts with things no holy woman should crave. And yet, no matter how fiercely you fought it, you kept returning to your sin.

Each night, beneath the shroud of darkness, your body became a traitor. Your hands moved without permission, exploring places you had been taught were forbidden. Your bedsheets tangled around your legs, damp with sweat, evidence of your transgressions.

And always, always, his name spilled from your lips.

Each time, you found yourself back in the same position—fingers trembling, thighs clenched, gasping into the silence of your room, drowning in him. And it felt too good to stop.

"Have mercy on me, O God, according to Your unfailing love..."

You whispered it every day in the chapel, hands clutching the rosary so tightly. "According to Your great compassion, blot out my transgressions. Wash away all my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin..."

Tears slipped down your cheeks, soaking into the fabric of your sleeves as you knelt before the altar. You sobbed, your body wracked with guilt, your lips forming words of repentance.

And yet—when you returned to your bed that night, your body trembling with guilt, your prayers still lingering in the air—

You touched yourself anyway.

"It's impressive how you always pray," Jake said, his voice gentle, filled with quiet admiration. A small smile graced his lips. Another interaction. Another moment that would be burned into your mind, another weight added to the burden of your sin.

"How you always find time to speak with Him," he continued. "I'm sure whatever you're praying for, you'd be heard."

You swallowed hard. Would God listen when your prayers were no longer pure? When you begged not for salvation, but for relief from the temptation standing before you?

You forced a polite nod, quickly wiping at your damp cheeks, hoping he wouldn't notice how red your eyes were. How broken you looked. Your knees ached from kneeling for so long, your fingers sore from gripping the rosary too tightly. If only he knew what your prayers had become—not words of devotion, but desperate pleas for deliverance.

You were about to stand, to create distance, to escape before your body could betray you again. But before you could move, Jake lowered himself to kneel beside you.

The proximity sent a shiver down your spine. His presence was grounding, yet it set something uneasy alight inside you.

"You know," he said, voice soft, "I quite admire you."

Jake smiled, warm and sincere, his eyes searching yours as if he was seeing something sacred in you. "You share a special relationship with God," he continued. "The way you pray, the way you devote yourself—it's beautiful."

"I've seen the way you never miss a prayer," he went on. "The way you kneel here for hours, speaking to Him when no one else is watching. I've seen the tears, the way you hold your rosary."

His gaze flickered down to your hands, still red from gripping the beads too tightly.

"And I think... that kind of devotion is rare."

You swallowed, forcing yourself to look away, because his words—his praise—felt heavier than anything the nuns had ever told you.

Because it was him saying it.

He didn't know that your devotion wasn't pure. That your prayers were not for holiness, but for control. That when you closed your eyes at night, it wasn't scripture that filled your mind, but the memory of his touch.

"God must love you very much," Jake murmured, tilting his head slightly. "To have someone as loyal as you."

You inhaled shakily, without thinking, you shifted back, settling onto the wooden pew. Jake stayed where he was, still kneeling, his gaze fixed on the cross. You swallowed. Your fingers curled around the rosary in your palm

"Can I confess, Jake?"

Your voice was barely above a whisper. Jake turned his head, he hesitated for a moment before moving to sit beside you, his posture still composed. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice is with quiet curiosity. "I am not a priest—I can't take such confessions."

You exhaled sharply, your grip tightening around the rosary.

"Forgive me, for I have sinned."

Jake stilled beside you his confusion was evident in the way his brows knitted together, in the way his head tilted slightly as if trying to piece together what you meant. "Why?" he asked slowly.

You couldn't look at him. If you did, you feared he would see it. The truth. The war inside you. The way he was the very thing you needed to confess.

Your throat tightened as you muttered the next following words. "Because," you whispered, forcing the words out before you lost the courage to speak them, "I don't think I want to repent."

Jake stiffened beside you. His breath hitched, his entire body going rigid. His fingers curled against his lap, gripping the fabric of his trousers. "H-How can you say that?" His voice was unsteady, a stark contrast to the usual calmness he carried. His soft features, always composed, always gentle, were now pulled into shock and disbelief.

You swallowed, your throat dry, your heart slamming against your ribs as you forced yourself to continue. If you stopped now, if you let fear take hold, you would never be free of this.

"I think of things I shouldn't."Your voice trembled, but your gaze didn't waver this time. "I touched myself."

Jake's body jerked slightly, his lips parted again, but no words came, as if he had been struck speechless, as if the confession had ripped the breath from his lungs. His Adam's apple bobbed with a harsh swallow, the tendons in his neck tightening. His gaze flickered away, darting briefly to the cross above the altar, as if seeking guidance, as if seeking a way out. But there was none. He could not look at you, not when the weight of your confession was still lingering in the air

"You..." he started, but the words failed him. He shook his head, exhaling sharply through his nose. His brows furrowed, "Why are you telling me this?"

Your hands clenched into fists in your lap, nails digging into your palms as you forced yourself to speak—forced yourself to ruin yourself completely. "Because it was you, Jake."

Jake inhale, his eyes widening, but only for a second. Something changed—something deep inside him, something that flickered behind his dark gaze like a dying flame suddenly reignited.

Your pulse pounded in your ears, your skin tingling under the intensity of his stare. But you didn't stop. You couldn't.

"I touch myself with the thought of you."

Jake's fingers dug into his thighs, gripping so tightly. His breathing turned shallow, uneven, his chest rising and falling at a pace that betrayed his struggle. His gaze dropped—just for a second—to your lips, before snapping back up, but the damage was already done.

He was flustered.

"D-Do not say v-vulgar things," Jake whispered, his hands trembling slightly where they rested against his lap. But it was his eyes that held you captive—wide, burning, conflicted.

Your throat tightened, and before you could stop yourself, tears welled in your eyes again. "I don't think I'm free of guilt if I confess to God."

Jake flinched at your words. His fingers twitched as if he wanted to reach for you, to stop you, to comfort you—but he didn't. Because he shouldn't.

"I keep praying for forgiveness," you continued, your voice trembling, "but I do not regret what I have done."

Jake inhaled sharply. His gaze flickered to the cross for only a moment—as if searching for guidance—before returning to you. Your lips trembled as you forced out the truth, the final confession that sealed your fall.

"I only feel guilty because thinking of you is a sinful act against my own people."

A tear slipped down your cheek, falling onto your lap, soaking into the fabric of your skirt. You weren't sure what you were asking from him—absolution, understanding, or something far more dangerous.

"God is willing to forgive again and again, right?" you choked out. Jake's breath hitched, and then you asked the only question that truly mattered. "But are you willing to forgive me?"

His throat bobbed with another hard swallow, but he couldn't speak. Because there was no answer to give. Not one that would be right. Not one that would be true. He stood abruptly. The movement was sudden, almost jerky, as if he was running—fleeing.

You watched him, lips quivering, hands still clenched together in your lap.

His palm was sweaty as he brushed it against his robe, his pulse erratic as he stepped out of the chapel, the heavy door closing behind him with a finality that made your chest ache.

You didn't call after him. You didn't move. Because what could you say? He was already gone.

Jake arrived early at the residence hall, his movements stiff, controlled, as if forcing himself into habit, but as soon as the door shut behind him, his composure cracked. His chest rose and fell with deep, unsteady breaths, his hands running through his hair in frustration. The ghost of your voice lingered in his ears, wrapping around his mind like a noose.

"I touch myself with the thought of you."

"I do not regret what I have done."

His jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. He sank onto the bed, head falling back against the pillows, eyes squeezing shut.

"But are you willing to forgive me?"

His breath came out shaky, ragged, as he muttered, "Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name..." His voice was strained and the prayer did nothing.

Nothing to rid him of the images flooding his mind, of your tear-streaked face, of the way your voice trembled, of the way you looked at him as if he held the answer to your salvation. He sucked in a sharp breath as his hands gripped the sheets beside him, as the tension in his body coiled so tight it hurt.

And then—he felt the unbearable heat pooling low in his stomach. The painful ache of his cock pressing against the fabric of his pants.

He let out a quiet, desperate whine, the sound muffled against his palm as he ran a hand over his face, as if trying to scrub away the shame, the want, the overwhelming weight of you. Still, the words of his prayer tumbled from his lips, over and over, between broken breaths.

Just like Adam, he had been steadfast. Pure. Untouched by temptation. He had walked the path of righteousness without faltering, without question, his faith as unwavering as the ground beneath his feet. He had known his purpose—to obey, to serve, to resist.

And yet, you— the Eve.

A whisper of temptation. Just as Eve had reached for the fruit, her fingers brushing against the knowledge of sin, you had reached for him—not with hands, but with words.

And now, like Adam, he was failing. He had seen the fruit before him. He had heard the serpent's voice, had felt the first stirrings of doubt deep in his chest, where conviction once lived.

He wanted to reach back.

To taste. To know. To fall.

Because wasn't that what Adam had done? He hadn't been deceived—he had chosen to fall with Eve. He had taken the fruit from her hand, knowing what it would cost.

"Take a bite."

The voice echoed in his mind, low and insistent, curling around his thoughts like a serpent coiled around a branch. Jake sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes remained fixed on the ceiling, but he did not see it.

Instead, he saw you.

He imagined you whispering to him, your lips forming the very words that now tormented him. He imagined your fingers brushing against his wrist, leading him closer to ruin. Just as Eve had turned to Adam with the fruit cradled in her palm, you had turned to him with your confession, tempting him in ways he had never been tempted before.

His cock throbbed painfully beneath the confines of his pants, damp with his own arousal.

"Take a bite," the voice urged again, slithering through the cracks of his crumbling resistance. His hands clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. He should continue praying, to fight whatever temptation the devil was filling him.

But instead, he lay there, panting, burning not with the way the nun teaches, his body betraying him as he squeezed his eyes shut. He let himself imagine.

"Heaven and earth are full," the voices soared inside the chapel, the morning light streaming through the stained-glass windows.

"Are full of your glory."

Jake's lips parted, but he did not sing. His gaze was fixed on you. You stood in the choir, your voice blending seamlessly with the others, yet somehow, to him, it was the only one that mattered.

Your long white dress fell in soft folds to your feet, the fabric catching in the gentle morning breeze drifting through the open doors. The wind moved through your hair, shifting it slightly, making it look almost weightless.

You were a vision of purity wrapped in divinity.

"Hosanna, hosanna."

Your eyes are dull and distant, told a different story. You sang the words, but you were not present. There was no joy, no reverence, only an emptiness that should not belong to someone standing before God.

"Hosanna in the highest."

But to him, you were the highest. More than the chapel's towering walls, more than the altar bathed in candlelight, more than the cross above them all. His fingers twitched at his sides, aching to touch, to reach, to worship. But not as a believer should.

"Show me."

The words slipped from Jake's. Your breath caught in your throat, your eyes widening as you stared at him.

The small room at the back of the chapel felt unbearably tight, with the scent of old books and dust, the faint aroma of candle wax lingering in the corners. A candlelight was at the center of the table.

This was a place of study, of quiet contemplation, and A man and a woman should not be alone together. Not when the door was shut.

"Show me." Jake swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Show me how you touch yourself."

"H-Huh?" You stuttered, barely able to form words, your mind struggling to comprehend what he had just said. "Jake, you're so pure... I don't want you to be tainted like me. I already disappoint God—"

"Please, just show me."

His voice was desperate, his restraint fraying at the edges. Jake stepped forward, closing the distance between you.

Your breath hitched as he leaned over the table between you, hands bracing against the worn wood, trapping you between his body and the cold stone wall.

"I have thoughts about you too."

Your eyes snapped up to his, his eyes were glassy, his lips trembling as if the weight of his own confession was too much to bear, unshed tears brimming in his lashes.

"I thought of you that night," he murmured. You sucked in a breath, pressing yourself further into the table.

"I disappointed God too."

"Jake. . . " Your breath hitched at his confession as your eyes is searching on him. "Are you not afraid? Of the fire that will burn you?" you asked.

Jake's breath was uneven, his chest rising and falling as he leaned closer, his hands tightening against the edge of the table. "Does it burn you when you touch yourself?"

"Because when I thought of you," Jake continued, "my body just ached for your embrace."

Your heart pounded so loudly; you almost want to lower your head due to the proximity.

"It's not the fire that burns me."

He swallowed hard, his jaw clenched as his gaze bore into yours, "It's the ache of longing for you."

You had feared he would resist, that he would turn away, condemn you, beg for salvation. But he wasn't begging for salvation. He was begging for you.

"Take a bite," a voice in the back of your mind hissed—low and insidious.

And without another word, without hesitation, you reached for him. Your fingers curled around the nape of his neck, you pulled him in, lips met his.

A low, desperate moan escaped Jake's throat as he crushed you against him, his hands finding your waist, gripping you so tightly. His body pressed into yours, heat radiating through the layers of fabric that still separated you.

His lips moved against yours with a hunger that startled you. The tears that had brimmed in his eyes slipped down his cheeks.

Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling, needing. The kiss was desperate, both of your teeth are clashing. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more. The pressure of his mouth against yours softened after a moment, his lips parting slightly, then his tongue brushed against yours.

A soft gasp left your lips, and Jake seized the moment, his tongue slipping past the seam of your mouth, exploring, tasting. He groaned into you, the sound vibrating against your chest, making something hot coil in your stomach.

Your grip tightening in his hair as the kiss deepened, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes, coaxing you into submission.

"If you want to make a boy weak, touch him there. Play with it, stroke it."

Still kissing him, your free hand drifted lower, hesitant, until your fingers pressed over the hardness beneath his pants.

Jake cried out. His entire body jerked, his hips stuttering beneath your touch as he broke the kiss with a sharp gasp.

"Oh my Lord—"

His head fell forward, forehead pressing against your shoulder as his breath came out in ragged, uneven pants. His hands clenched at your waist, gripping the fabric of your dress.

You swallowed, watching in fascination as his body trembled beneath your touch.

Carefully, experimentally, you pressed your palm more firmly against him, stroking him slow through the fabric.

Jake whimpered. His hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more friction, chasing the pleasure, more relief, yet it was never enough. Your name slipped from his lips in a strangled moan, muffled against your shoulder.

"I want to see you. Please." You whisper, more like a whine as your fingers continued to stroke him through the fabric of his pants.

Jake lifted his head slowly, his breath ragged, his pupils blown wide with something that had nothing to do with faith. Tears streaked his flushed cheeks, his lips parted as they trembled.

His gaze locked onto yours, vulnerable yet so needy.

"W-Will you touch me more?"

His voice cracked at the end, his body shuddering as he fumbled with the buttons of his pants, his fingers shaking too much to work quickly. You watched as he hesitated, his chest rising and falling rapidly, before finally tugging the fabric down past his hips.

Your breath caught in your throat.

A penis. His cock was thick, long, flushed a deep shade of red. Fluid leaked from the swollen tip, dripping down the shaft in slow, glistening trails.

You remembered feeling disgusted way in anatomy class, staring at the stiff, clinical images in textbooks, thinking the male body was strange, almost grotesque.

Now, your mouth watered.

Heat pooled deep in your belly, your pussy clenching together involuntarily. You didn't even realize what you were doing until you were already on your knees.

Jake's breath hitched, his body going rigid. His wide, teary eyes stared down at you.

"W-What a-are you doing?" He exhaled sharply, his voice cracking. You glanced up at him, your hands settling on his thighs.

A whisper from your past came back to you, "Suck on it—especially the tip."

Your lips parted, and you murmured, "I'm going to pray for forgiveness." then you took him into your mouth.

"Ahhh—!"

A choked gasp tore from his lips, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. His hands flew to your head, fingers tangling in your hair, but he didn't push. He held on for dear life.

His knees buckled slightly, his breath coming in ragged, shuddering gasps as your warm mouth engulfed him.

You tasted the saltiness of his arousal, the unfamiliar flavor spreading across your tongue, but instead of pulling away, you took more.

"Jesus Christ, this is disgusting," Jake cried, his voice shaking—yet his hands remained buried in your hair, his hips jerking forward, pushing himself deeper into your mouth.

His breath came out in broken gasps as he watched you, watched the way your cheeks hollowed around his cock, the way your lips stretched to accommodate him. His fingers trembled where they tangled in your hair, torn between holding back and pushing in further.

"It feels too good—too good, too good—" he whined, his mouth falling open, eyes glassy.

Your stomach tightened at the sound, heat curling between your thighs at the way he was breaking apart. You wanted more, you needed more.

Your tongue traced along the underside of his shaft, your head bobbing steadily, each movement coaxing more whimpers from his lips. His thighs trembled beneath your hands, his entire body shaking with pleasure so foreign to him that he didn't know what to do with it.

"You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain." The words echoed in the back of your mind, a commandment you had already shattered beyond repair.

But you like hearing him, hearing the way he gasped for God, the way his voice cracked when he moaned between whispered prayers.

Your eyes flickered up, meeting his gaze. Jake whimpered, his breath stuttering as you took him further, pushing yourself until the tip of his cock brushed the back of your throat. Your gag reflex tightened, but you didn't pull away. You held him there, letting him feel everything.

"A-Ahhh—!"

A loud, uncontrollable moan ripped from his throat as his head fell back, exposing the column of his neck, veins prominent, his Adam's apple bobbing with every gasping breath.

His body tensed, his fingers gripping you too tightly, as if he was seeing God Himself in the pleasure washing over him.

His moans grew louder, needier—his entire existence reduced to you and the sin you were leading him into.

His grip in your hair tightened, his hips stuttering as he fought to keep himself from thrusting into your mouth, from losing himself entirely.

"S-Something's coming—something's coming."

His voice broke, whimpering and breathless. Still bobbing your head, you reached down with one hand, lifting your skirt, fingers sliding beneath the fabric of your underwear. The moment your fingers brushed against your slick folds; a moan vibrated against his shaft.

Jake gasped, his thighs tensing, his entire body shuddering at the sensation.

Your wetness coated your fingers, and with no hesitation, you pushed one inside, curling it the way you always had when you were alone—except now, you weren't alone.

Now, it felt too good to be true. Because Jake was in front of you.

Because Jake was falling with you.

Your own pleasure built with every movement of your fingers, every muffled moan that sent vibrations through him.

His hand slid down, trembling, until it brushed against your cheek, his thumb wiping away the tears pooling at the corner of your eyes, tears from how deep you had taken him, from how overwhelming it all was.

His touch was tender, contradicting the broken, filthy sounds spilling from his lips.

"You're—" he choked out, his voice wrecked. "You're touching yourself?"

You hummed around him, confirming, not slowing down, your fingers working deeper inside yourself as his body tensed above you.

Jake whimpered, his head falling forward, his lips barely parted as he stared. His stomach coiled tighter and tighter, his body trembling as his hips stuttered, chasing the feeling, unable to hold back.

"You look so beautiful," he sobbed, his voice raw and shaking. "So divine."

His gaze never left you, drinking in the sight of you—on your knees before him, lips wrapped around his length, taking him so deep without breaking eye contact.

A choked moan tore from his throat at the way you looked up at him, at the sheer devotion in your eyes. It was as if you had been sculpted by God Himself, crafted not from dust but from light, from holiness.

Jake had always admired you.

The way you prayed every afternoon in the chapel, hands clasped. How your lips moved so softly in whispered hymns, the way your voice blended into the choir like something celestial.

How you knelt before the altar, head bowed, untouched by the world around you, your beauty standing apart from anything he had ever known.

Now, you were kneeling for him, your mouth worshipped something else entirely.

His hips jerked forward, unrestrained, a sob catching in his throat.

"Oh—oh, my God—"

His entire body shook, the pleasure nearly blinding. A choked sob left his lips as his release spilled into your mouth, hot and thick, coating your tongue. His hips jerked involuntarily, pressing deeper until your nose met his abdomen, forcing you to take every last drop.

You moaned at the sensation, fingers working faster inside yourself, chasing the same pleasure that had just undone him. The taste of him lingered on your tongue, salty, forbidden—yet you swallowed it all, not letting a single drop go to waste.

Above you, Jake shuddered violently, his hands tangling in your hair as if clinging to you for stability.

His head tipped back; his lips parted in a silent cry as he came down from his high. His fingers trembled against your scalp, stroking gently.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," he whispered, his eyes clenched shut, his chest rising. He held you there, cradling your head against his abdomen, his body still twitching from the aftershocks.

You tapped his thigh twice, a silent signal. Jake inhaled sharply, His grip loosened instantly, and with shaky hands, he let go of you, his cock slipping from your mouth.

A thin string of saliva connected you, stretching between your lips and the flushed tip of him before breaking. Your tongue remained out, your breath ragged, your lips swollen and slick with the remnants of his release.

"You... you swallowed my seed," Jake whispered, you stared up at him through lidded eyes, your breath shaky, your body still moving, fingers still working inside yourself.

His gaze flickered downward, following the slow, desperate motion of your hand beneath your lifted skirt. His cock twitched, still sensitive, yet already stirring again at the sight of you.

"It... it should be in your uterus," he muttered, his brows drawing together. "Not your mouth."

A slow smile curled at your lips, heat simmering beneath your skin as you reached for his hand, guiding it to your cheek.

"Then pump me with your seed, Jake," you whispered.

A sharp inhale left his lips, his fingers tightening at your sides before he pulled you to your feet.

His mouth was on yours again, his hands trailing down your back, finding the zipper of your dress. He tugged it down slowly, the fabric loosened, slipping over your shoulders, pooling at your feet.

Jake pulled away, his lips parting as he took you in—your bare form. His throat bobbed, fingers trembling slightly as they traced over your waist.

He bent down, lips finding the curve of your neck, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone.

Your gaze lifted past him, to the walls of the room—where portraits of nuns, saints, and martyrs hung in quiet judgement. Their solemn eyes bore into you, unblinking, unwavering. Your chest tightened, guilt creeping in but you didn't want to stop.

Instead, you let your eyes fall shut, choosing to surrender—to savor the moment.

"Teach me how to please you," Jake murmured against your skin, his hands encircling your waist, holding you close.

You inhaled sharply, your fingers threading through his hair before drifting down to cup his face. Your foreheads pressed together, breath mingling.

Jake's eyes fluttered shut as he sighed against your palm, his lips brushing against the center of it before pressing a tender kiss there. His own hands lifted, fingers tracing the shape of yours.

You pulled away slowly, you reached behind you, unclasping your bralette. The straps slipped from your shoulders, the fabric falling away, leaving your bare skin exposed to the afternoon light. Your underwear followed, sliding down your legs until you stepped out of them, standing before him in nothing but temptation itself.

Jake's breath caught, his entire body rigid as he took in the sight of you—completely bare, completely his to look upon, to touch.

His lips parted, his gaze roamed over you, over the soft curve of your breasts, the dip of your waist, the smooth expanse of your thighs. He had seen statues of angels, paintings of the Virgin Mary draped in flowing white, but no work of art, no scripture, no vision of heaven itself had ever looked as divine as you did now.

You turned, settling yourself onto the wooden table behind you, your legs parting slowly, revealing yourself to him without hesitation.

A shaky exhale left your lips as your fingers trailed down your own skin, tracing along your inner thigh before sliding to your labia. You arched your back slightly, sighing as you spread yourself wider, holding his gaze.

"Come here, J-Jake," you moaned, your breath hitching as you pushed a single finger inside yourself. Jake swallowed hard, his hands shaking as he reached for the buttons of his shirt. One by one, he undid them. He let the fabric slide from his shoulders, pooling onto the floor before taking slow steps toward you.

As he neared, his breath hitched, his gaze lowering to where your fingers disappeared inside your slick folds. His pupils dilated, "It's so wet," he whispered.

Before you could respond, his hand moved. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, still slick from your arousal, and gently pulled your hand away.

Jake's gaze flickered to your glistening fingers, then he brought your hand to his lips.

You gasped, your walls clenching involuntarily as his tongue flicked out, tasting you for the first time. His lashes fluttered shut, a soft groan slipping past his lips as he took more of you onto his tongue, savoring the taste.

When Jake opened his eyes again, they were darker.

"I want more." A sudden moan tore from your throat at his words, your body reacting before your mind could catch up. You reached for his wrist, guiding his hand between your legs, breath hitching the moment his fingers brushed against your slick folds.

Jake sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers trembling as they hesitated at your entrance, slowly he pushed a single finger inside you.

A gasp escaped you as he entered. His jaw clenched at the sensation, his breath uneven as he felt you—felt the way your walls clenched around him, soft and wet and so impossibly tight.

His free hand gripped your thigh for support, his own body shuddering. Then he curled his finger.

"Oh God!" A sharp cry left your lips, your back arching at the sudden jolt of pleasure. Jake choked on a moan, watching you intently, his eyes locked onto every flicker of expression on your face.

He did it again, this time slower, pressing deeper, and your fingers dug into his shoulders.  His breathing grew heavier, his forehead nearly pressing against yours as he whispered, "Can I touch your breasts?"

Your head fell back, your lips parting on a silent gasp. You nodded frantically, eyes shut, too overwhelmed to speak properly. But a pleading "please" slipped from your lips.

That was all the permission he needed. Jake's other hand rose cautiously, fingers ghosting over the curve of your breast before cupping it fully, squeezing experimentally. His breath hitched at the feeling—warm, soft, the peak pebbling under his touch.

You moaned at the contact, pressing into his palm, "You like that?" he asked.

You nodded quickly, tilting your chin up to kiss him again, swallowing his breath. Your body was burning in a way that the nuns never depicted, your core aching with want, and you didn't care how shameless you sounded when you pleaded, "Please, touch me more."

Jake swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as his fingers kneaded your breast, his other hand still buried deep inside you, working slow, torturous circles that made you gasp.

"Lean down and suck my breast," you whispered against his lips. "I heard it feels good."

Jake pulled back slightly, blinking down at you, his cheeks flushed. "Like a baby?" he asked, almost innocently, though the way his hips pressed forward, grinding his aching cock against your thigh, told another story entirely.

You let out a breathy laugh, though it was cut short when he twisted his fingers inside you, making your back arch.

"No," you whimpered. "Like a man who wants me."

Jake groaned, before lowering his head, his lips parting as he took your nipple into his mouth. The moment his tongue flicked over the sensitive bud; a cry left you.

He started gently at first, his lips soft and warm against your breast, still testing, still learning how to touch you. But as your back arched, as your fingers tangled into his hair and held him there, he grew bolder.

His lips sealing around your nipple, his tongue swirling. Then his teeth grazed the sensitive flesh, just enough to send a delicious shudder down your spine.

"Jake—" you gasped, thighs clenching around his waist, trapping him against you.

He moaned against your skin, his free hand massaged your other breast, fingers rolling the hardened peak between them, mimicking the movements of his tongue.

"Add another finger inside me—please, please," you begged, voice breaking, hands clutching at his shoulders, urging him deeper.

Jake's forehead pressing against your chest bracing himself as he obeyed. His second finger slipped inside, stretching you further, filling you in a way that made your toes curl. Your walls clenched around him, tight, warm, so wet, and Jake whimpered, his hips bucking against your thigh at the feeling of you around his fingers.

"I want you inside me," you whispered into his ear, tears slipped down your cheeks. Jake let out a shuddering breath, his body stiffening at your words. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment. "They said it will hurt," Jake whispered, his fingers, still buried deep inside you, twitched. His free hand came up to your cheek, wiping away your tears with the pad of his thumb, his touch so tender it made your chest ache.

He swallowed hard. "I don't want to hurt you."

You leaned into his touch, your lips brushing against his wrist as you whispered, "I want to feel all of you, Jake. Even if it hurts, I want you."

Jake's breath hitched, his forehead pressing against yours. With trembling hands, he withdrew his fingers from your heat, watching the way your body shuddered, the way your thighs quivered as he left you empty. He brought his fingers to his lips without thinking, tasting you again, his eyes fluttering shut as he let out a quiet, needy moan.

Jake let out a shaky exhale, gripping himself at the base. His other hand rested on your thigh, rubbing soothing circles into your skin. "Are you sure?" he asked.

You nodded, spreading your legs further, offering yourself to him completely. "Please, Jake."

With a shaky breath, Jake lined himself up with your entrance, his tip pressing against your heat. His hands trembled as he gripped your thighs, steadying himself, his forehead resting against yours as he slowly, carefully, began to push inside.

A gasp tore from your lips the moment he breached you. Your arms wrapped around him, clinging to his shoulders, molding yourself against him as your body adjusted to the slow intrusion of his thick cock.

The stretch was overwhelming. Tears welled in your eyes, slipping down your cheeks as your walls struggled to accommodate him. Looking down, you saw—he had barely entered you. Only the tip, and yet, it already felt so much.

Jake let out a strangled moan, his breath stuttering as he squeezed his eyes shut. 

"S-Slow," you whimpered, your body trembling beneath him. Jake nodded rapidly, biting his lip so hard. His entire body was tense, his self-control hanging by a thread as he forced himself to move at an excruciatingly slow pace.

"You’re so—" He choked on his words, a desperate whimper escaping him. "So tight—God—"

His hips twitched involuntarily, and you gasped, your nails raking down his back at the sudden jolt of sensation. Jake's breath hitched at the sharp sting of your nails, his cock throbbing as he pushed in another inch.

A broken sob escaped you.

"I-It’s too much—" you whimpered, your walls fluttering around him, trying to adjust, trying to take all of him.

"Shh, I know, I know—" he whispered, kissing your tear-streaked cheek, peppering soft kisses along your jaw, trying to ease the overwhelming stretch. His hands slid down to your thighs, holding you open, rubbing gentle circles into your skin as he murmured against your lips, "do you want me to pull out?"

You shake your head, Jake exhaled sharply, his breath warm against your skin, his hands steadying you before he pressed forward again, stretching you further. Until you felt his abdomen on your navel. Every movement forcing your walls to open for him, to take him in ways you hadn’t known were possible.

A hiss escaped you, your back arching off the wooden table at the overwhelming sensation of being completely full. "Y-You're inside me," you gasped, as your gaze dropped between your bodies.

Jake groaned softly, his hands gripping your waist, his cock throbbing inside you as he fought to remain still, to give you time to adjust. "Yeah," he murmured, "I'm inside you."

Your breath was ragged, your fingers shaking as they slid up to his face, tracing the curve of his jaw. "I'm not burning," you whispered, half in disbelief. "I'm not burning."

The nuns had lied. The warnings, the fear, the fire they swore would consume you if you ever gave in to desire—it was nowhere to be found. There was only warmth. Only Jake.

Jake swallowed hard, his gaze locking onto yours. He reached for your chin, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet his eyes.

"You're not burning," you whispered. Jake brows furrowing, a gasp tore from your lips as he pulled out slightly before thrusting forward again, sinking into you. His mouth fell open, his head tilting back as he felt you, felt the way your walls clung to him, squeezing him.

His lips parted, but the only sounds that came were broken, incoherent prayers.

"Oh, God—" he choked out. His hands shook as they traced over your body, touching you, his fingers skimming your sides, your stomach, your breasts. You cried out as the pain shifted, morphing into pleasure.

"You're so beautiful," Jake sobbed, he thrust back inside you, deeper than before, his arms tightening around you. His chin rested atop your head, his lips brushing against your hair as he inhaled, breathing you in, letting your scent consume him as much as your body did.

"You're—you're everything," he whispered shakily, his hips rolling into you. "Made perfect, sculpted by God’s own hands," he moaned against your skin. "How could something so sinful feel so good?"

You whimpered beneath him, clinging to his shoulders. 

"I could do this every day," he moaned. Your breath hitched, eyes fluttering open, finding his face above you. He pulled back slightly, just enough to cup your face in his trembling hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks, wiping away the remnants of your tears. His forehead pressed against yours.

"I would do this every day," he corrected himself, groaned as he thrust deeper, his hips stuttering slightly at the way your walls clenched around him. "Worship you like this. Love you like this."

Your moans grew louder, your nails pressing deeper into his skin, leaving marks along his back as if claiming him in return.

Jake groaned, his lips parting, his body trembling from the way you felt. "Would you let me?" His eyes searched yours. "Would you let me taint you? Every day?"

His hands roamed your body, gripping your waist, then sliding lower to cup the back of your thighs, pulling you closer. His movements slowed, dragging out every sensation, every inch of him inside you.

Your back arched, your legs wrapping tighter around his waist, locking him in place, your breath coming in soft, desperate gasps as the pleasure built inside you. 

"Yes, yes!" you cried out. "Taint me, fill me with your seed—I don’t care anymore!"

A ragged moan tore from his throat as he thrust harder. "You're all I've ever wanted." His pace turned desperate, frantic. His hands shook as he rocked into you. His lips crashed against yours, swallowing your moans as he drove deeper, his body pressing you down into the wooden table. The room was filled with the sinful sounds of skin meeting skin, of breathless gasps and muffled cries.

"I’ll give you everything," Jake panted, his forehead pressing against yours, sweat dripping from his temple. "I’ll fill you up, I’ll make you mine—"

His thrusts grew erratic, his hips snapping forward, chasing release, chasing you.

Your walls clenched tighter, pulsing around him, and he whimpered, his body tensing, his breath stuttering as the pleasure coiled unbearably tight inside him.

"Jake, Jake," you whimpered, your hands drifted lower, fingers grazing over the stretch where your bodies met. You could feel him inside you, thick, pulsing, dragging against your walls with each deep, sliding thrust. 

Your fingers dipped lower, pressing against your clit. A sharp gasp escaped you. The moment your fingers touched the sensitive bundle of nerves, a bolt of another intense pleasure shot through you. 

Jake groaned at the movement, his grip tightening, his lips parting as he watched you touch yourself.

"It feels too good—too good," you sobbed, rolling slow, shaky circles against your clit, heightening the pleasure building inside you. Your walls spasmed around him, gripping him tighter, making his hips stutter.

"Oh my Lord," Jake moaned, his head dropping against your shoulder, his body shaking with the effort to keep himself together. "This—this feels too good. I am willing to sin every day to get a taste of you."

"I would trade heaven just to stay inside you forever—"

His teeth grazed your jaw, his fingers locking around your wrists, guiding your movements against your clit, urging you faster, desperate to bring you with him.

"Please—please, come for me," he begged, and with one last deep thrust, as your fingers circled your clit faster, as his cock hit the perfect spot inside you.

The pleasure snapped through you, your entire body seizing as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you. Your walls clenched around him, pulsing, milking him as your climax washed through every inch of your being.

Jake choked on a moan, his body jerking as he buried himself deep, hips stuttering, his breath breaking into ragged gasps. His hands trembled as they gripped your hips, holding you still as his release spilled inside you, hot and thick, filling you completely.

His lips found yours again as he emptied himself into you, his body still shaking from the intensity of it all.

You gasped into his mouth, still riding the aftershocks, feeling the warmth of him inside you. Neither of you moved for a long moment, too overwhelmed, too wrecked to do anything but exist in the sinful haze of what had just happened.

Jake’s hands slowly slid up your back, his fingers tracing over your spine made your chest tighten. Finally, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his gaze soft but dazed, as if he still couldn’t quite believe what he had done—what you had done together.

 "Are you okay?"

Your heart ached at the tenderness in his voice, at the way he searched your face for any sign of regret. But there was none. You reached up, brushing damp strands of hair from his forehead, your fingers lingering against his cheek.

"I'm full of you," you murmured, "I can feel you inside me."

Jake groaned, his hands tightening on your hips, his entire body tensing as he let out a shaky breath. Yet, even as exhaustion threatened to pull him under, his cock twitched inside you—still buried to the hilt, still too sensitive, yet already stirring again at your words

"Don't say that," he whispered, but his hands betrayed him.

They slid upward, over your waist, tracing the curve of your ribs before finding your breasts again, cupping them, thumbs circling your pebbled peaks. His fingers kneaded softly, rolling the sensitive flesh between his palms. 

Your back arched, your head tipping back, letting your hair cascade over the edge of the table. Your lips parted in a breathless moan, the aftershocks of pleasure still tingling in your veins, yet now, a new wave of desire was coiling inside you again. 

You were undone beneath him, your body glistening with sweat, your lips swollen from his kisses, your eyes still dazed, darkened with lust. And yet, you looked untouched. 

His grip on your breasts tightened slightly, his hips pressing forward just enough to remind you that he was still inside you.

"You make me forget who I am," he murmured, his breath shaky against your throat. "What I'm supposed to be."

His lips found the pulse at your neck, trailing down again at every inch of your skin. 

Neither of you noticed the way the candlelight flickered. Because you had both awakened the Tree of Knowledge.

And neither of you would ever return to Eden.

Jake had always been a man of God.

From the moment he could speak, he was taught that he was formed from the dust of the earth, molded by divine hands, a creation of purpose. His parents instilled in him the belief that he was meant to walk the righteous path, to live a life devoted to prayer, to obedience, to purity.

He appreciated every intricate work of the Creator—the way the sun spilled golden light over the stained-glass windows of the churches, the way the choir’s voices soared in perfect harmony, the way scripture spoke of faith and the reward of salvation. He saw God in everything, and in return, he gave himself to Him, dedicating his days to scripture, to service, to resisting the sins that so easily ensnared others.

Where others strayed, he remained steadfast. Where others indulged in temptation, he turned away.

He had watched boys his age succumbs to their own desires— lusting over naked bodies, wandering hands beneath heavy blankets. He had seen the way girls blushed at their names being called by the wrong kind of voice, the way they giggled behind cupped hands, oblivious to how close they danced to damnation.

But not him.

Jake had spent his youth guarding his body, his mind, his soul. He never allowed himself to waver, never let his thoughts wander to things he had been told were unholy. And if—if—his body ever betrayed him in the quiet of night, if his skin burned with an unfamiliar ache, if his mind was tempted by images that had no place in his heart, he would fall to his knees in prayer.

He would beg for forgiveness, whispering fervent apologies, asking for the strength to resist, the grace to overcome.

And for years, he believed he was strong enough.

He believed his faith was unshakable, that no force on earth could tempt him away from his devotion. He had spent his life resisting, rejecting, turning away from desire as though it were a serpent poised to strike.

During one of his evening services at the university chapel, he saw you. At first, it was nothing. A passing glance. A new face among many, just another student filling the pews, singing hymns.

But then, he saw you again.

And again.

You stood among the choir, always placed near the back, always just slightly out of reach—like something meant to be admired from afar, never touched. Your voice wove seamlessly into the others, rising with the organ, filling the chapel, but it wasn't just your voice.

It was the way you bowed your head in prayer, hands folded so delicately. It was the way you knelt before the altar, the way your fingers curled around your rosary.

And every time he saw you, every time your lashes fluttered closed, every time your lips parted to whisper scripture. He would whisper to himself, Song of Solomon 4:7.

"You are altogether beautiful, my darling; there is no flaw in you."

Because when he looked at you, he saw something more than human.

He saw a reflection of God’s love, a testament to His creativity—flawless, untouched, pure in ways he never realized he could ache for.

He told himself it was admiration. That his heart only quickened because he saw God in you. That the warmth spreading through his chest whenever you smiled at the nuns, whenever your fingers brushed against the pages of your worn bible, was nothing but spiritual devotion.

But the more he saw you, the harder it became to believe the lie. Because you were forbidden. So untouchable it hurt.

And by the time he had a taste of your poison, by the time your lips had met his, by the time he had felt the warmth of your body pressed against him, wrapped around him. He couldn’t stop craving.

"Jake—" you whined, your voice hushed, breathless, your hands pressed against the cool tiles of the wall for balance. Your body rocked with each deep thrust, your skirt bunched up around your waist, your panties pulled aside in rushed desperation.

Here he was, buried deep inside you in the thin, suffocating space of the girls’ restroom, his hands gripping your hips, guiding you as you bounced against him. He had barely gotten them down before he was inside you. 

Jake let out a shaky breath, his forehead falling against the back of your shoulder, his hips snapping forward, a choked moan escaping his lips as your walls squeezed around him.

"D-Do you love my c-cock inside you?"  He stammered. His hands slid from your hips, traveling up, slipping beneath your uniform blouse to cup your breasts, kneading them, his thumbs rolling over your sensitive peaks as he thrust deeper.

"Answer me," he pleaded, breath hot against the shell of your ear.

A sharp gasp left your lips, your head tilting back against his shoulder as your walls clenched even tighter. "Y-Yes," you whispered, your fingers curling against the cold tile, your knees going weak.

"Say it."

"I love it, Jake," you sobbed, barely holding yourself up as he drove into you faster. "I love your cock inside me—I love it so much—"

Jake whimpered, his grip on you tightening, his entire body shuddering against yours as he lost himself again.

Nothing in this world felt holier than you. Every secret rendezvous was another prayer whispered in the dark, another moment stolen between fleeting glances and hurried footsteps, another sin sealed between trembling lips.

It was your skin against his, pressed against the cold walls of empty classrooms, hidden beneath the dim glow of flickering candlelight in the chapel, tangled in sheets that smelled of guilt and devotion.

It was your kiss—sweet and sinful, your lips brushing against his top lip before capturing him fully, pulling him under, making him forget the weight of his conscience.

It was the way your fingers found his face, tracing over his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose, down to the sharp line of his jaw.

"Jake," you would whisper, your touch like a baptism, washing away the person he once was and leaving behind someone entirely yours.

Your hands never hesitated when they roamed his body, memorizing the contours of his muscles, the dip of his collarbone, the ridges of his spine. Your body molded to his, fitting perfectly, as if you had been crafted just for him.

And God, how could something that felt this right be wrong? How could he look at you and believe this was damnation?

You were not a temptation.

You were his salvation, And if this was sin—if loving you, wanting you, needing you—meant turning away from heaven, then so be it.

Because Jake had already made his choice and he would choose you every time.

"They say if you have sexual preferences, it's called a kink," Jake mused, his arms wrapped loosely around your shoulders as he stared out at the lake, watching the water ripple under the soft afternoon light.

It was a rare that the both of you escape—just the two of you, away from the suffocating walls of the university.  Here, it was quiet. Peaceful.

You hummed in amusement, leaning back against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. "Hmm, I think I have a nose kink."

Jake chuckled, tilting his head slightly. "A nose kink?"

You grinned, turning to look up at him, mischief dancing in your eyes. "I love your nose," you said simply, reaching up to tap the tip of it gently with your finger. "I love how it bumps against my clit."

A giggle slipped from your lips as Jake let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head, his ears tinged slightly pink.

"You're unbelievable," he murmured, pressing his chin lightly against your shoulder, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed his fondness.

You shifted, wrapping your arms around his, your fingers playing with the fabric of his sleeves. "What about you? Do you have a kink?"

Jake pretended to think, his lips pursing before he finally admitted, "I love your tongue."

You raised an eyebrow, amused. "Oh?"

His smile widened, his fingers trailing lazily along your arms. "I love how soft it is when you kiss me," he said, voice dropping slightly. "I love the way it feels against my skin, how warm it is when you—"

He stopped himself, biting his lip, his cheeks darkening as he let out a flustered chuckle. "You know."

You turned fully in his embrace, resting your chin against his chest as you beamed up at him. "Say it."

Jake groaned, rolling his eyes, but there was nothing but adoration in them as he dipped his head, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. "I love how your tongue feels when you're tasting me."

Your giggles turned into full laughter, your arms tightening around him, and he let out a breathy laugh of his own, shaking his head in defeat.

The wind rustled through the trees, the lake shimmering under the sunlight.

"Do you think God still loves us?" you asked, Jake's fingers threaded through your hair, slow and gentle, playing with your scalp as he stared out at the lake, watching the way the sunlight danced over the rippling water.

"Yes," he said, without hesitation.

You blinked, tilting your head slightly to look up at him. "How can you be so sure?"

Jake exhaled softly, his lips curling into a small, thoughtful smile. "Because love doesn’t disappear just because we fall." His gaze met yours. "God loved David even after his sins. He loved Peter even after he denied Him three times. Love isn’t something that fades because of our mistakes. It’s unconditional."

Your chest tightened at his words, at the quiet conviction in his voice.

"Then why do I still feel guilty?" you whispered, pressing your cheek against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

Jake sighed, his chin resting lightly atop your head. "Because we've been taught to fear Him more than we've been taught to trust His love."

Silence stretched, only the soft rustling of trees and the distant laughter from the festival carrying through the breeze. After a moment, Jake spoke again, "but when I’m with you…" he paused, his thumb tracing lazy circles against your arm, "I feel closer to God than I ever have before."

You pulled back slightly, eyes searching his, the weight of his words settling deep in your chest. "How?"

He smiled, leaning in to press a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead again before whispering,

"Because you are the most beautiful thing He’s ever created."

Your breath hitched, your hands tightening around his shirt as warmth bloomed in your chest.

Jake tilted his head, his lips hovering just above yours. "And if loving you is a sin…" he murmured, a teasing smile playing on his lips, "then I guess I’ll just have to keep repenting."

His hands wandered lower, tracing slow, idle patterns along your upper thigh. You shivered slightly at his touch, but it wasn’t just the sensation that made your breath hitch—it was the way his finger moved deliberately, forming letters, one by one, spelling out a single word:

"Mine."

Your lips parted, your heart stuttering in your chest as your gaze flickered up to meet his.

Jake only smiled, the corners of his mouth lifting, "I will leave the university," he said suddenly. 

Jake exhaled slowly, "I’ve realized a lot of things, and one of them is…" He hesitated, searching your face, then sighed. "I don’t think I was ever meant to be the man they wanted me to be."

Your throat tightened. "Jake—"

"Everything is okay," he reassured you, his voice firm, calming. "I don’t regret any of it. Not the prayers, not the faith—but I also don’t regret you. And if the only way to keep you is to walk away from what was never truly mine, then I’ll do it."

Your eyes glistened with unshed tears, your fingers curling around his wrists. "You would do that?"

"I would do anything for you," he muttered, "I was never meant to be a saint, and I don’t think I want to be anymore." His fingers tightened around yours, grounding himself in the warmth of your touch, in the certainty of this moment. "I just want to be yours." 

A breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding.  You swallowed, your lips parting before you whispered, "Ruth 1:16-17."

Jake tilted his head slightly, his brows raising in curiosity. You smiled softly, squeezing his hand. "Where you go, I will go, and where you stay, I will stay."

His gaze softened, warm and full of love, as if in that moment, there was nothing else in the world but you and him. Jake swallowed, his fingers tightening around yours as he whispered back, "Song of Solomon 3:4."

Your breath hitched. A sharp sting burned behind your eyes as you realized what he was saying, as the words sank into your skin, into your soul. Tears welled up, spilling onto your cheeks as he brought a trembling hand to cup your face, his thumb wiping them away.

"I have found the one whom my soul loves."

A quiet sob escaped you as you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes, letting the weight of his words settle into the deepest parts of you.

That was the day you faced the judgment of others.

Whispers followed you down the chapel halls, sharp as knives, spoken behind cupped hands and lowered eyes. You were no longer the devout girl they had known, no longer the image of purity they had placed on a pedestal.

You were cast out, stripped of the life you had once known, condemned for surrendering to the desires they warned you against. For falling, like Eve, for stepping into temptation and taking the bite that could never be undone.

But none of it mattered. Because just as Adam had followed Eve into exile, Jake followed you. It had always been him and you. It would always be him and you.

You would always choose him—religiously, faithfully.

You clutched Jake’s hand, sweat beading on your forehead, your body trembling as pain surged through you. Your body trembling with exhaustion. The midwife kneeled before you, her voice firm yet reassuring, guiding you through labored breaths as she prepared to deliver your third child.

Jake pressed a kiss to your damp temple, whispering words of encouragement, of love, his grip unwavering as he held onto you, just as he always had.

He wiped away the tears spilling from your eyes, just as he had that day by the lake, when he promised you that everything would be okay.

And as you cried out, as life pushed forward, as your body bore the proof of your love.

"You’re so strong," he murmured. "Just a little more, my love. I’m right here."

Another sharp cry left your lips, your back arching as the final push sent waves of relief crashing over you.

A baby’s cry filled the room.

A sharp, piercing sound, followed by the relieved murmurs of the midwife as she carefully wrapped the tiny, wriggling form in soft cloth. Your head fell back against the pillow, your chest rising and falling in ragged breaths, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes. Jake’s hand trembled as he reached for you, his lips pressing against your knuckles, his gratitude unspoken but infinite.

Tiny footsteps thundered against the wooden floor.

"Mama!"

The door burst open, and two small figures ran inside, their eager little hands gripping the edges of your bedsheet.

Cain and Abel—your firstborns.

Their wide eyes shimmered with excitement; their faces flushed from running. Cain, the elder, clung to Jake’s arm, while Abel climbed onto the edge of the bed, trying to peer over your shoulder.

"Did it hurt, Mama? Are you okay?" Cain asked, his brows furrowed in concern, his little hands gripping onto Jake’s sleeve.

"It’s okay, my love," you soothed, your voice weak but filled with warmth as you reached for them. "I am okay."

Jake’s breath hitched as the midwife gently placed the newborn into his waiting arms. A soft gasp left his lips as he cradled the tiny child against his chest, his eyes glistening with tears. His fingers traced the delicate curve of the baby’s cheek, his voice breaking as he whispered, "Seth."

At the sound of his father’s voice, the newborn let out a small, sleepy whimper, tiny fists curling against Jake’s chest. Cain and Abel watched in awe; their excitement momentarily silenced as they stared at their new baby brother.

"Seth," Abel repeated softly, as if testing the name on his tongue.

"He’s so small," Cain murmured, his fingers twitching as if resisting the urge to reach out and touch him.

Jake let out a choked laugh, pressing a kiss to Seth’s forehead before carefully settling beside you on the bed. His arm curled around your shoulders, pulling you close, his free hand still cradling your newest son. And as your children gathered around you, their voices filled with wonder.

As Jake’s lips found your forehead once more, you exhaled, a breathless, relieved sigh. You thought of Eden. Of Adam, formed from dust. Of Eve, crafted from his rib, made for him, meant to be his. The two of them had once lived untouched, unburdened, perfect in their innocence.

But love—true love—was never meant to exist without choice.

And so, they had fallen. Not out of defiance. Not out of sin. But out of love—a love so deep, so human, it had rewritten the course of existence itself.

Your body spent, your children nestled close, your husband’s arms wrapped around you as he held his world in his hands. Your tired eyes fluttered shut, as Jake pressed another soft kiss against your skin, your newborn stirred gently in his father’s arms.

Falling had never been a punishment. Because It is a gift.

perm taglist: @won4me @ikaw-at-ikaw, @kristynaaah, @fancypeacepersona @tunafishyfishylike @vvenusoncasual, @cutehoons02,

[arminsumi]

fogging up nerd armin's glasses.

𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍 — アルミン ⋅ fem reader

NOTES: damn i rlly be making my entrance to hell with this 🫡 kidding. ENJOY MY FELLOW NASTY BXTCHES 😈 the poll ain't even finished but i whipped this up in preparation for the armin prompt winning so i can satisfy our nerdmin craving lol

🔞 mdni / 18+ content

SUMMARY — nerd armin being pathetic for u until he snaps 'n puts u in ur place and does a full 180 :)

WARNINGS — smut, stereotypes (nerd, popular girl), mean reader / "pathetic" min -> mean min

SMUT WARNINGS — nasty kinky smut, implied experienced reader, namecalling (bxtch — both ways, he uses your own spells against you like some mf sev. snape, slvt,), stereotype kink (?) if that's what it's called, calling him/you pathetic, (mean) (nasty) dirty talk, oraljob (m. receiving), cvm swallowing, unprotected sex (implied taking the pill tho), creampie, dom/sub dynamics (switching), mean reader -> mean armin later, slight overstim, slight size kink, mentions him watching/learning from pxrn + mxsturbating with a pillow, please lmk if i have missed a warning!!

WORDCOUNT ≈ 1.2k

🍒 𝐉𝐚𝐲 ⋅ 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 !

gold-framed, oversized, round glasses slip down his nose. there's a slight fog gradient creeping from the bottom of the lenses, owed to the searing heat coming from his dampened cheeks.

he's never felt this good in his life and you know it, that's partly why you offered to give him head in the first place. the other reason was to pay him back for helping you study for the past couple of months. he's showed up at your dorm room every weekend, textbooks clutched tight to his chest, back of his hand pushing those round glasses up his nose by the rim. there's faded freckles speckling his face and an ever-present boyishly red blush adorning his cheeks and ears.

that blush becomes more prominent when you have him like this. head tilted back, fistfuls of your bedsheets clutched tight in his delicate hands, head spinning. he's got the most picturesque blissed-out face, a real erotic expression straight out of a hentai. you don't need to even ask if he's ever gotten sucked off before, because the answer is clearly no. no way he has. he is the most straight-laced, uptight student — valedictorian, of course, and when he's not the best in school he's upset with himself. self-esteem so low, but your mouth is doing wonders to bring it back up. because he's receiving a sloppy blowjob from the most popular girl in school.

"oh my g—o–oood that's s-so fuck-fucking good!" he chokes.

the poor boy started out so quiet, able to swallow every moan and erotic noise. but when you really got into it? he lost it. he's been whimpering on your bed with you between his spread legs for an hour now.

"please don't fucking stop — fuck! — please 'm begging you, don't stoppp! yesyesyes fuck, ahhhah — oh my god i'm gonna go crazy if you lick it like that."

you give your jaw a break and pop off his cock, earning a startled whimper from him. he is so fucking pretty laying there, wettened blond bangs stuck to his forehead, blue eyes half-shut, textbook being nudged off by his elbow. and just an hour ago that textbook was being held in his hand while he taught you in that know-it-all voice of his.

now all his voice sounded like was pathetic, and you made sure to tell him that. "you sound so fucking pathetic." you smile up at him. his dick jumps and throbs, precum beads out and you swipe your tongue over his slit to collect it.

" 'm pathetic for you, 'm all for you — ouhhh fuck!" he goes into another lust daze, it looks like he's slipping from reality when your plush lips engulf his cock. and you haven't even shown off your deepthroating skills yet. how is he gonna survive that?

the answer is; he doesn't. he squirts out three hot, thick jets of cum the split second he feels his cock hit the back of your throat. the slight contractions of you swallowing made him let out the most broken, nasty whimper you've ever heard a man make.

you pull off and gulp all his cum down. "jeez, 'min, you moan like a bitch." you giggle meanly. he's absolutely getting off to your dirty talk. he wishes it was right in his ear.

but there's some hidden part of him that wants to throw you into a fatiguing position and bliss you out with some mean strokes. that secret little part of him seethes when you call him pathetic. oh you think he can't make you cum? he could ruin you with his cock. he knows it.

so when he goes home after your 'study' sessions, he watches porn and learns how to stroke right, how to play with that lil kitty of yours, how to lick it how to fuck it and how to ruin it. it's like a study session itself. he even practices with his pillow, thrusting his hips into it, mimicking the rhythm of the pornstar on his screen. practicing his smart mouth on his fist or fruits, learning how to control his tongue better, pretending it's your pussy.

your next few study sessions with him are riding practice.

you're teaching him everything he needs to know to destroy you, and you don't even realize that he's absorbing the information with the intention of using it against you. oh, you like your clit rubbed like that? you like it fast, like it slow? you like dirty talk? creampies?

"you're fucking nasty." he talks back to you for the first time when you're demonstrating how to hit it from behind.

you're caught so off-guard, all you can do is smile in shock.

"what'd you say?"

"nothing." he lies sweetly.

with that, he snaps his hips flush against your ass. those delicate hands that you taught many things to are now squeezing your hips with a nearly bruising grip, just how you told him you like.

those pretty lips that you taught how to french kiss and taught how to eat pussy are now brushing against your cheek, muttering dirty talk just how you told him you like.

"mmm who's a bitch now?" he seethes, cock sinking so deep that you kick your feet around.

"oh m- oh fuck! hahhhh, 'min 'min 'min! f-f-fuck don't stop! don't you fucking stop talking to me like th-that — oh my god that's the fucking spot, right there right there, harder please right fucking thereee!!"

he chuckles behind you, genuinely amused by how you sounded like a bitch in heat. it's like the both of you swapped places completely.

that pretty fat cock pumps in and out at an eye-rolling pace, the deep strokes he's hitting are something you never taught him but for some reason he knows how to do it well. your body slowly feels like it belongs less to you and more to him as he bullies his cockhead into that mushy spot. now that spot really fucks you up, and he learned that quick when you taught him. he listened to your every word and put all the theory into practice.

so that's why you start gushing and creaming around him. there's juices running down your thighs. sweat and heat searing across your bodies. hell, even armin's got your juices running down the front of his thighs as he fucks into you from behind.

"god you're making a fucking mess, have some shame. my fucking cock is getting painted white. 'gonna clean it up for me with that mouth of yours afterwards? yeah, you're damn right you are. uh-huh, i'll call you my bitch. can't believe you fucking like that, you're a fucking freak."

that last line is what makes you cum. oh, that was so funny to him; weren't you the one who used to call him a freak?

"look at that fucking back arch, wow..." he admires breathlessly, expression feral as he approaches his own high. "gonna cum inside, just how you want, 'sure you still want it?"

"yesyesyes! gimme your cum!" you cry, feeling slightly overstimulated with each stroke of his cock. it was so fucking thick, you felt so full that it's all you could focus on. so full. and he was gonna fill you up even more.

"oh my fuckin' god 'm gonna cum in this slutty fuckin' pussy, take it like a good slut — m-my slut, yeah? you're my slut? say it, please. yeah. say it again, 's gonna make me cu- fuck! ohhh god 'm gonna cum. take it, fuckfuckfuck 'cumming, 'cumming mmm!"

armin's never orgasmed that hard, or shot out that much cum. now if you weren't on the pill, you would have absolutely gotten pregnant from that session. he's a boy with breeder balls, that's one of the first things you told him and he remembered it.

he pulls out and relishes in the sight of his cum dripping out and running down your slit.

"that's so fucking beautiful." he smiles naughtily, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his forearm. "hey, up for round two?"

© arminsumi DO NOT STEAL WHAT I'VE WORKED HARD TO CREATE.

[splaede]

AFTER DARK. Armin Arlert (CH. 6) (18+)

☰ pairings: Armin x Reader, Slight Eren x Reader

┌─ ✮⭒｡ story summary: Armin was tired of being seen as an innocent, goody-two-shoes, little flower boy. Instead, he wanted to be seen in a more romantic and…sexual light. You just couldn’t turn down a sweet boy like him, so you agreed to hone his charms and teach him special…skills.

And he turned out to be much more powerful (and hotter) than you'd ever expected.

└─ ✩⭒｡ story #tags: fluff, angst, smut, friends to lovers, friends w benefits, drama, jealousy, hurt/comfort, manipulative armin, virgin armin, loss of virginity, childhood friends, lots of tension, nerd armin, and then he glows up, love triangles, unrequited love, gaslighting, lots of buildup

☰ CHAPTER SIX. armin's first

┌─ ✮⭒｡ chapter summary: Things get heated. Things get so, so heated.

└─ ✩⭒｡ chapter warnings: smut (p in v sex, fingering), fem bodied reader, loss of virginity, petting, literally most of this is foreplay

wc: 9.7k

☰ table of contents | previous chapter | next chapter

In the dim of your living room, your eyes could only see him. And right here, on the plush of your couch, your body only knew his. 

Armin held you, secured you, and grounded you, strong arms snaked around your waist as you became all too aware of your intermingling bodies. The squish of your thighs against his, the unashamed press of your tits against his chest, the weight of his breaths against your lips…

You could still feel the tingle on your lips where he’d last kissed you, a ghost of his touch. 

Above you, the clock ticked louder and louder in your ears, louder than the blood that rushed to muffle your hearing and the pounding of your pulse, a looming reminder that it was late. That you had work in the morning. That you were running out of time. 

That you shouldn’t be doing this.

Another sound intruded on you. A voice, his voice, running rampant in the back of your head.

Will your roommate be home soon?

The fact that he’d asked that question…just what did he want?

And on top of that, you had already confirmed that, no, your roommate wasn’t going to be home any time soon. In fact, she wasn’t going to be home at all, meaning you’d have the entire night with him alone, undisturbed. 

Sitting here, Armin quietly eyed you, curious and content yet half-lidded and torn by lust. He suddenly silenced your thoughts with a kiss, swooping in hard, teeth clashing, causing you to instinctively grab his face to ease him down. 

The kiss oozed of messiness, an exchange of saliva and wet, meshed-together lips that barely held any rhythm. The feeling consumed you fully—the warmth and fervent press of his lips—as you slowly guided him. 

Lost in the intensity, you instinctively swiped your tongue against his bottom lip. He jolted, pulling away. 

You thought that was so cute of him, seeing him like this. So ironically innocent.

“S—sorry,” he stuttered out, a bashful look on his face. 

Your brows furrowed, worried that you had done something wrong. “Did I go too far?”

“No, it’s just….” He tightened his grip on your waist, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “God, I’m so nervous.”

Squeezing your hands on his shoulders, you reassured him, “It’s okay. We can go slow.” 

“Okay.”

Armin smiled up at you, so sweetly and boyishly—so contradictory to the thoughts you’d been having about him. But even so, he was still nothing like the little boy you’d known. Not when he was gazing at you with that blush, reddened and far-gone, and that glint of lust—that hunger—in his eyes. 

You still couldn’t believe he was here with you. If you’d known you’d be kissing your childhood friend ten years down the line, you’d probably flip out in disbelief. 

But he’d matured so much from then. That boy was nothing like the man under you, holding onto you. Nothing like how tempting and alluring and irresistible he looked right now. 

His palms flexed around your waist, once, then twice, then dragged up the sides of your torso, slowly, almost mindlessly, then back down. Pressed up like this, chest-to-chest, you could feel the racing of his heart so hard that you felt yourself rattling. And even though his hands had stopped shaking, the fast, repetitive thump inside his chest told you more than anything else ever would. 

Sitting in silence, hearts beating out of sync, you let him roam your body like that. Slowly and hesitantly, like he hadn’t quite fully grasped the situation. 

"You're a good friend,” he mumbled quietly, no longer meeting your eyes, fixated on where he was touching you instead. 

Cheeks heating up at the praise, you shuddered with a laugh that sounded a little too strained and nervous. 

You were a good friend? No, he was a good friend. He was the whole reason you wanted to do this in the first place. A good, caring, considerate friend that you would never turn down even if it meant putting your friendship on the line. 

“I trust you. I wouldn’t ask anyone else this,” he continued. 

Breathing in deep, you cupped his face affectionately. “No, please, you’re so good to me. How can I say no to you?” 

His hands stilled, and you could see how his eyes instantly softened. Armin’s right hand fiddled with the hem of your shirt, eyes meeting yours momentarily before darting away. 

“Thank you. So…can we keep going?” 

Your lips lifted into a small smile, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at his eagerness. “Yeah, um. Do you…want to try using tongue now?”

As soon as you’d finished that sentence, you fought down the nervous, embarrassed lump that rose to your throat. It couldn’t get any more straightforward than that. 

“Yeah,” he replied breathlessly and nodded.

“Slowly, okay? We’re just gonna ease into it. When I lick your lips, open your mouth a little. And then after that, it’s like…” You swallowed, tensing. “Um, I don’t really know how to explain it. Just try to match me.” 

He gazed at you with so much anticipation that you could almost taste it. Sliding your hands back onto his shoulders, you latched onto his lips again. 

This time, there wasn’t a rush. Just slow, methodical, and relaxed movement as you relished the softness of his lips. You loved this feeling. Soft and sweet, like him. 

His hands began roaming your body again, starting from the sides of your chest down to the tops of your thighs. His palms slightly brushed the outer parts of your breasts, but it was still nowhere close to where you really wanted him.

You took this as a cue to mimic him, hands gliding down to his biceps where you gave him a light squeeze. Even though you knew he worked out, you were still surprised to feel the dips and tautness of hard muscle. It wasn’t that you forgot, it was that you didn’t normally expect it from Armin, someone usually so nice and mellow. 

As you trailed down his stomach, you could feel the defined ridges of his abs under your splayed palms, and you swore you almost moaned. For someone with such a cute face, he had such a strong body. 

When your tongue finally soothed over his bottom lip, he parted his lips ever-so-slightly. And the moment you slipped your tongue in, he let out a small noise that was so, so quiet. Your tongues met, warm and wet. 

You could tell he was hesitant, but you continued at the same pace, slowly licking into him and swiping your tongue over his. He’d completely stilled, hands etching themselves harder into your waist. As you were letting yourself taste him, something tugged on your heart, weighing heavy. 

Because it dawned on you that you were making out with Armin. 

Something so intimate and passionate like this could only be reserved for lovers, not for friends.

Armin reluctantly slipped his hands under your shirt. Just right there, right at the threshold of your torso and not any further, like he was testing the waters. He held you there, only tasting. Your breath hitched, startled by the warmth of his fingers, but the flow of the kiss remained the same. 

The pressure of his tongue was soothing as it moved against yours, and he was getting the hang of it little by little. And the moment it seemed to click—where it felt like you’d reached the perfect rhythm and the perfect amount of energy—you moaned into his mouth to let him know he was doing good. Thank God he was a fast learner. 

Cradling his neck into your arms and threading your fingers into his hair, you rolled your hips into him experimentally, pelvises meeting. You heard him inhale sharply, but he didn’t break the kiss. He only tightened his hold on you, pushing you down slightly as he rolled his hips, matching you.

The friction felt so undeniably good. You knew he felt good, too, because you could feel the area of his crotch stiffen under you.

It was like that for a while, the two of you grinding on each other, so focused on outdoing the other that the kiss wasn’t even a kiss anymore. Just a mix of messy lips and hitched moans and saliva. So much so that you had to wipe away the drool at the corner of his mouth. 

You were the first to pull away for air. 

“How was it?” he instantly asked, licking his lips. They were swollen, and that gave you the urge to kiss him again. 

“Just a little messy. But good. You did good for your first time.” You laughed. 

He laughed with you, bringing a thumb to swipe over the corner of your mouth. “Sorry about that.” 

Just like that, the two of you shared a cute moment, and you began to think that nothing would change between you—that you two would still be friends and embrace these moments no matter what. 

As the atmosphere from your makeout session died down, you were left with one final thought. 

What now?

“Hey…” you started. You didn’t even know how to word this. Do you know where this is going? Do you even want to keep going? 

You stood up, all too abruptly like you were running on autopilot as your brain tried to catch up with your body, hands detaching from his neck and thighs from his lap. You looked at him warily, wedged between the coffee table and his parted legs.  

Armin frantically stood up, too, half hard in his pants as he reached for your forearm. “Something wrong?”

It was late, you remembered again. 

But now, in this lapse of judgment, you guessed it didn't matter if you should or shouldn't continue. Not when he was staring at you, pleading with his eyes—with his body. You could almost hear his heart thumping out of his chest.

You wondered if he could hear yours, too.

“Um,” you trailed off, wondering how to save yourself.

Before you had the chance to recollect your thoughts, Armin cut you off. “Sorry, um. I mean, I know it’s late…if that’s what you were going to say. I should probably go. You did say I should only stay for a little bit—”

“No—wait, no.” You pressed a palm to his chest. 

Armin subtly tilted his head, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I thought you had work in the morning?”

“I know, but...” Your eyes trailed down to his crotch, suddenly guilty. “Do you want to stay?”

He regarded you with a look of uncertainty, hands hovering beside your arms like he was about to hold you. “Yeah…?”

“Then…what do you want to do?” It came out in a slight whisper, and you instantly wanted to slap yourself for that question because, one, it was definitely the wrong question. All you wanted was clarity as to whether he knew where this was going, and two, what did you mean by what he wanted to do? 

You could feel his eyes burning into your head, but yours were averted to where the neckline of his tee dipped down to reveal his collarbone.

He gulped. “What do I want to do?” he parroted, breathing in a steady breath. “Um…what do you mean?”

You pursed your lips, knowing you were going to sound desperate. “Was kissing…all you wanted to do?” 

He looked visibly taken aback now, lashes fluttering as his eyes flitted over your form in surprise. 

“No…” 

“Then what?” 

Maybe you really were desperate as you stood here so close to him, pushing your thighs together in an attempt to quell the ache. 

“Well, I think—I think you know,” he mumbled shamefully. “Don’t make me say it.” 

“Say it. Please? I just want to be sure.”

He pursed his lips, too, while contemplating, flushed a deep pink on his cheeks. “I want us to…go the whole way. I want you.” He cleared his throat. “To teach me.”

For a long moment, you were convinced you stopped breathing. 

It was so loud now. Your heartbeat was so unbearably loud, reverberating and bursting through your ears. A breathless silence filled the room.

He didn't waver. Not once. He only gazed straight into your eyes—straight through you, irises deep and blue and overwhelming and darkened by lust. He'd lost that innocent, bright shine long ago.

The beat of your heart only quickened, even quicker than what it already was.

Was this it? Was this the next step? Was this it after all of those needy kisses and flimsy touches and longing, vulnerable stares? 

Nevertheless, a sense of relief washed over you. You wanted this, too, despite the fact that you were risking something precious to you. Something irreversible.

Not that'd you stop now. 

And then you were onto him, capturing his lips in a sloppy kiss. He returned it just as quickly, rough and intimate. His hands slid to your waist and held you tight against his body while you clung onto him like it was the end of the world. 

Licking his lips teasingly, you murmured in between the kiss, “My room.” 

He broke away a little, muttering a little “okay” before you cut him off by pressing your mouth back onto his. 

When you pulled away, he surprised you with his next words. 

“Can I carry you?” 

Without hesitation, you lightly jumped onto him, and he caught you, carrying you effortlessly in his strong arms. You loved the feeling of his hands on the back of your thighs, firm and warm. He was so surprisingly muscly that you wanted to squeal. 

The walk wasn’t far in your small apartment space, and you quickly found yourself being placed gingerly onto your bed and your limbs untangling from his body. He stood there like he didn’t quite know what to do. You scooted back onto your pillows, beckoning him to come closer. 

“Get on top of me.” You tugged on the front of his tee. “Like this.” 

He stumbled onto your bed, settling in between your legs as his hands braced him up. You tugged him even closer still, and he fell to his forearms. 

You looked up at him only to find him blushing, a dark, rosy color tinting the apples of his cheeks, watching you with eager eyes as his chest heaved with heavy breaths.

Heat bubbled in your stomach. “Are you sure you want to do this? Remember, this is…this is for you. This is about how you feel.” 

“I’m sure,” he answered quickly. 

Then, Armin kissed you for the millionth time tonight, but this time, it was short yet thorough, like he just missed your taste. 

“Kiss me on my neck,” you urged, craning your head. “Just don’t leave any marks.”

Armin dipped down instantly, but he stilled for the next second, hesitantly staring at your neck. The conviction finally hit him and his lips met your skin, ticklish and titillating and warm. He peppered slow kisses along the juncture of your neck, leaving one long, suckling kiss—one hard enough to make you feel good but soft enough not to leave a mark. You could tell he was unsure about his movements, so you softly grabbed him by the hair to bring him to a specific spot. 

“Right—ah—there. Yeah,” you assured him as he gave another suckling kiss. 

“Is this good?” he asked timidly into your skin, and you could feel the tickle of where his lips moved. 

You hummed in response. “It’s good. You’re doing good,” you replied, words tumbling out of your mouth in an awkward way. 

He pulled away, and his eyes raked over your form, suddenly stopping at your chest. While you should’ve been excited, something else happened. Something like dismay filled his eyes as his brows twitched downwards. 

“Is this Eren’s sweater?”

Oh. 

“Yeah?” you weakly breathed out, voice pitched a higher octave than you’d like.

His eyes flitted back to your face again, still strewn with an emotion you couldn’t quite place but knew wasn’t good. 

“Can I take it off?” he asked, pawing the hem of your sweater. He seemed confident almost, but you knew that the barely discernible, nervous strain in the thrum of his voice gave it all away.

You nodded wordlessly like the air had been punched out of your lungs.

Armin grabbed onto the hem of your sweater with both hands, peeling it off you so slowly that you couldn’t tell if he was teasing you or just simply nervous. Your stomach coiled in anticipation the farther he went, with each inch of skin he revealed. He was so agonizingly slow—or maybe you were so impatient that it felt like time had slowed down—yet the rush of cool air against your torso was instant. 

The moment he reached your bra, your heart seemed to beat out of your chest, and you needed to steady your breathing. 

He stopped and looked for only a minuscule second, as if he didn’t dare to stare any longer, and picked up the pace, pushing the last of your sweater above your raised arms. 

“Pants, too,” you whispered softly. 

With shaky hands, Armin obediently worked them off, past the fabric of your panties, all the way down your legs. 

He’d seen you in a bikini before, but it was different this time. You were laid out all nicely in front of him, clad in a bra and thin panties. On your bed, for him. 

The newfound cold nipped everywhere at your skin, goosebumps prodding up your arms and legs. 

“Take my bra off for me.” You said shakily, turning to your side to give him access. “You know how?” 

He laughed out what seemed to be a mix of a chuckle and a scoff. “I’m sure it isn’t hard.” His knuckles brushed the skin of your back as he took hold of the straps and unclasped your bra. You could feel his hands shaking against your back. “Easy.” 

As he slid it off of you, that heavy feeling in your heart resurfaced, and you began to feel self-conscious.

But it was just Armin, you reminded yourself. 

Your upper body was now completely bare to him. The cool of the air swept over your already-hardening nipples. 

Armin only stared at you. Didn’t say a word. Just outright ogled you with raw, unfiltered desire in his eyes as his hands twitched where they were resting near his thighs. 

You grabbed both of his hands, placing his palms directly on your chest. “C’mon. Touch me.”

Gulping hard, he leaned into you, broad, unpracticed hands cupping your tits, squeezing just once. Then his hands started moving, experimentally pushing and squeezing over the plush of your tits, palms grazing over the peaks of your pebbled nipples. 

You clamped your eyes shut, letting yourself go for the moment. It felt so pleasant, just steady friction against your sensitive breasts. 

Armin’s hands were soft—that much you already knew—just as everything else was about him. But while his hands were soft and gentle, his gaze was hard. He was so fixed and focused on you, blue eyes practically dripping with unbridled lust. 

He cupped your tits again, a soft nudge, then his hands slid down the curve of your waist. You could feel the trail of warmth that his fingers left on your skin. It clung to you even as his hands moved away to rest on your abdomen. His thumbs pressed into your skin so briefly that his touch might’ve been a spasm of a finger as the bottoms of his palms grazed against the hem of your panties. 

The warmth followed down the curve of your hips, down your thighs, and down to your knees. You shifted your legs closer to your body, and his hands quickly cupped the underside of your thighs, squeezing once. 

You knew this was his first time, so you let him explore your body as your hand came to his cheek to pull him down for another kiss. His tongue prodded at your lips, and you happily welcomed it. 

His hands were everywhere now—your thighs, your hips, your waist, your shoulders, your neck, your arms. You could tell he was losing rhythm between keeping up with the kiss and touching you, but you couldn’t care less. 

He pulled away first, leaving a string of saliva hanging between your lips. 

“Armin, play with my….” The embarrassment hit you again. You didn’t even want to finish your sentence, but luckily, he seemed to understand. 

“Oh.” His fingers found your tits again, thumbs swiping over your nipples before he lightly pinched them, tugging them upwards. “Like this?” 

You gasped and squirmed. “Yeah. Like that. Just very lightly. Try rolling them between your fingers.” 

His thumb and index finger met with your nipples, and he did what you told him, twisting and rolling your nipples between his fingers. 

That elicited a little whine from you. “Feels nice.” 

Armin continued his ministrations on you as he alternated between tweaking your nipples and groping your tits whole. It was sensual and quiet, save for the sound of your soft moans.

He suddenly sighed, eyes clouded. “You’re so pretty,” he whispered softly and fondly.  

You didn’t answer. Instead, you smiled at him and let your cheeks heat up from his compliment. It caught you off guard. Because somehow, in a suggestive moment like this, he managed to make it sweet. Judging from the tone of his voice, you knew it was genuine. 

Because he was a genuine guy.

You cupped the back of his head and pushed him toward your chest. “Put your mouth here.” 

He doubled back, eyes wide, but didn’t waste another second to envelop his lips onto your chest. He followed your orders so easily—like a dog to its owner—that you couldn’t help but chuckle at the charm of it. 

For a second, you wondered if he needed guidance, but when his tongue laved over your breast, you only held his head tighter as your back arched off the bed in pleasure. His eyelids fluttered shut, feathery, blonde lashes resting against his cheekbones. He kissed your nipple just as he kissed you, licking and sucking meticulously and thoroughly. 

One of the things that you liked about Armin was that he was such an adaptable learner. Took things he learned and applied them somewhere else. Not that any of this required any big skill, but he just did it so well and so quickly. 

You grabbed his hand and brought it to your other nipple, and he quickly understood, playing with you like he did before.

Suddenly, his teeth took hold of your nipple—just a light graze, and you gasped again. You felt the ache between your thighs throb, shamelessly getting wetter. Where did he learn to do that? 

“Okay, that’s—that’s good.” You tapped his cheek. “Over here now.” 

His mouth unlatched with a pop and he switched to the other breast, repeating the same routine. You felt the remnants of his saliva on your skin mix with the cool air, tingling. 

You were sure your panties were drenched now. Sure that the arousal made the fabric stick to you. 

Armin pulled away, licking the spit from his lips, and looked right into your eyes. “Was that okay?” he asked innocently. 

“Mhm,” you hummed, but you were convinced it came out more as a whine. You clutched a handful of the fabric of his tee. “Off.” 

He sat up straighter, surprised but willing. “Off? Okay, okay.” Armin reached behind him to grab the collar of his T-shirt, and in one swift yank, it came off. He threw his shirt on the floor like the rest of your clothes, and you were left to ogle at his body. 

Your eyes raked over the smooth planes of his chest, his slim waist, and the hard, toned stomach where your hands had previously felt. 

Even at pools and beaches, he opted for T-shirts with his swim trunks. And the last time you’d seen him shirtless, he wasn’t this jacked. 

“I never get to see you like this. You’re so—you’re so built.” The fluster was so evident in your voice as you trailed your fingers down his torso. 

He shyly laughed, pink on his cheeks. “Thank you.” 

“You’re so pretty, Armin.” Before the embarrassment and weight of your compliment caught up to you, you quickly grabbed the hem of his jeans. “Take—take this off, too.” 

You eyed the bulge beneath his pants, hard and begging to be freed. 

You gulped. Now you two were really getting into it—seeing and doing something so intimate. You had no problem undressing yourself, but when it came to him…

He nodded as his hands fumbled with the button and zipper, thumbs slotted in between his waistband as he shakily pulled them down. You helped him get them off, anticipation and nervousness coursing through your veins. 

Once his jeans were off, he seemed even bigger now. You could see the clear outline of his dick straining against his boxers, and it was messing with your head. This was your best friend, for crying out loud. Both of your most intimate places were each just a layer away, just inches away. 

“Fuck, I’m so—” His eyes scanned over you, from the eager expression on your face, to your bare tits, and to your legs that were spread to accommodate him. “You don’t know how hard I am right now.” 

You gulped again. “Yeah?” you teased, palming him through his boxers. 

He sharply inhaled and cursed low under his breath, but before you could go any further, he grabbed your wrist. There was a look of worry on his face—maybe it was desperation, you thought—and you wondered if you did something wrong.

“W—wait. I want to know how to make you feel good.” 

Your face morphed into one of surprise. Armin wanted to please you first. 

You felt the arousal creeping up on you. Felt it soaking your panties again. 

You breathed out slowly, and for a second, the words died on your tongue. He was going to see you fully naked. Only a flimsy piece of fabric away from erasing the line between your friendship and this…whatever this was. 

“Yeah, that’s good. Wanting to please your partner first, that is.” You regained your footing. “Help me take them off?” You eyed him innocently and pulled his hands towards your body until his knuckles touched your panties. 

He stared for a moment—definitely at the wet, darkened patch over your crotch. Armin finally took hold of the hem of your panties, fingers hot against the skin of your pelvis. Unblinking, he pulled them down gently, agonizingly slow. You could feel your slick sticking to your panties and the fabric grazing your almost quivering thighs. In an instant, cool air rushed to you. 

His eyes never left you as he pulled your panties past your knees and ankles, so fixated and eager that he made you nervous. The coil in your stomach returned, tense, like it was moments away from bursting. 

You felt like a virgin all over again. You were embarrassed—even though you knew you shouldn’t be because it was just Armin—and on the brink of clamping your legs together, but you couldn’t because his body was right in between you, even closer than you’d noticed before. 

“God, you’re so…” Armin gulped. He was quiet, muttering to himself, struggling to find his words, and nervously pushing his hair back. It fell back messily onto his forehead. “What do I…what do I do now?” 

Clutching his hand between both of your palms, you shaped his hand into a “thumbs up” sign and brought it to your slit, spreading yourself with one hand. “This is the clit. If you…if you didn’t already know.” 

His thumb grazed over your clit, and a twinge of pleasure shot up your lower body. 

“I know.” 

Armin thumbed your clit some more, swiping circles and pressing down lightly. You could feel yourself get wetter by the second.

“Is this good?” he asked. 

“Mhm. A little faster—oh! Yeah, that’s good.” Your hips bucked as he sped up. “You—you could also use your middle and ring finger.” 

You demonstrated with your hand, and he quickly followed, pressing his fingers onto you again. 

This time, he started off slow and worked his way to match the pace from before. 

“A little lower.” And suddenly you were arching off the bed. “Oh! Wait—”

“Am I doing it right?” he interjected, voice shaky. He was watching for your reaction, blue eyes boring into your face. 

You nodded as the pleasure spread through your lower body. He wasn’t the best, but he wasn’t bad in the slightest. He made you feel good, nonetheless. The pads of his fingers were warm and smooth, rubbing all the right ways against your clit. 

“You wanna move down now?” you asked. 

Wordlessly, his eyes flicked down to your entrance, and the urge to clamp your legs shut returned to you again. You were dripping—you had to be, slick with your wetness pooling around your center. He lingered for a second before his attention diverted back onto your face. 

“Show me how.” He said, adamant. 

“Just know that…” Your fingers ghosted over his knuckles. “You don’t have to necessarily make me cum. This is just to stretch me out. To prep for the real thing.”  

He regarded you with a tiny frown and peered at you hungrily through his long lashes. “What if I want to?” 

Your heart skipped a beat and your stomach simmered with warmth. 

“Well, you can.” You nodded and swallowed the lump in your throat, unsure of what to say. Taking his hand in yours, you isolated his middle and ring fingers and held them close to your entrance. As you did so, something tingled and churned inside your stomach. Nervousness, you thought, apprehension, maybe. Not in a bad way, but in the way that every next step with him left you remembering just how private and raw this was. 

“Just like that,” you whispered. 

With a gulp, his fingers slid into your soaked cunt. You were so wet and tight, and you knew he could feel it. Feel it envelop his finger, warm and so, so slick. You instinctively clamped down on him as he pushed further. 

“Oh, God…Y-Y/N,” he all but stuttered out. “Is—is this what it…”

The desperation showed clearly on his face: lips parted, brows knitted, and eyes drooping with lust.

You grabbed his wrist. “K—Keep going.” 

His fingers reached their hilt inside of you, and you had to resist squeezing down on him. He felt like no other guy you’d been with. Because he really wasn’t any other guy. 

He pulled them out swiftly, fingers and knuckles now tainted with the remnants of you. “What—what else?” he choked out. 

The absence of his fingers left you wanting more. With your grip still on his wrist, you tugged his hand closer to your center. “Curl your fingers like this. When you’re inside.” You choked, too, and cleared your throat. “Just keep moving.”

“Like this?” He entered you again, gently, and pressed against a spot inside you that drove your hips to lurch off the bed. 

You nodded weakly, whining. “More.” Your hand on his wrist urged him out, pulling backward. Confused, he slightly resisted. But when you pushed him back in, he seemed to understand the hint.  

Armin pressed into you, thrusting his fingers in and curling them right at that sweet spot that had you gasping out. He slid in and out so easily, guided by the slickness of your insides, and worked slowly, almost teasingly, but you squeezed his arm, encouraging him.

“Right there,” you gasped out. “You’re doing so good.”��

He groaned in response, a borderline moan. “H—Here?” And curled right into your G-spot. 

You let out an abrupt gasp, akin to a stuttered breath, hips bucking upwards as pleasure seeped into your insides. His pace was reckless, but the calculated way the pads of his fingers pushed and grazed against your G-spot had your stomach twisting and your heart racing. 

Beside you, you noticed his other hand fisting the bedsheets. Reaching out, you put a hand on top of his. “You okay?” you asked breathily.

Armin glanced up at you, eyes blown out, pupils dilated in such a starved, animalistic way that looked so out of character. He surprised you by lacing his fingers between yours. 

“Can I kiss you? Please?” 

It caught you off guard, but you didn’t get to register your shock before you were crying loud with a particularly hard thrust. “Please. Please.” You didn’t know why he was even asking. 

Armin’s lips crashed onto yours, capturing you in the most heated kiss of the night. Immediately, he dominated the kiss, all spit and tongue, lips hot and molding together with a firm press. His fingers kept fucking into you relentlessly, filling the room with lewd, wet sounds. 

His other hand held yours still, squeezing once before letting go and landing on your waist. 

“Just wanna feel you,” he mumbled. 

Nodding, you strung your hands through his hair as he caressed your waist and tits. His palms grazed over your nipples, making you shudder and bite back a moan. 

The coil inside your stomach winded tight and kept winding tighter and tighter when his fingers hit that spot again. The pleasure swirled through you, wave after wave, your hips lurching off the bed and your hands gripping his hair even tighter. 

You moaned into his mouth. “So close.” 

He groaned, drawn-out, lips wet with saliva, swallowing the noises that came out of your mouth. 

“You’re doing so good,” you praised. 

Armin whimpered at that—whimpered—and picked up the pace, faster, harder. It was sloppy, but it wasn’t imprecise. He flicked up into you so perfectly until you were stretched out and dripping, and until it finally snapped. 

The coil snapped. 

“Armin, I’m—I’m cumming! Don’t stop!”

“Hol—Holy shit, Y/N—”

The coil snapped, and sweet euphoria coursed through you, rushing through you like open floodgates. You gushed onto him in the same way, cunt fluttering against the thickness of his fingers. The feeling hit you like a truck and filled you whole. 

“Can’t believe this is happening,” he mumbled under his breath in a desperate whine. 

You pulled him into a desperate kiss—or was it that he pushed the kiss onto you?—and he dipped down to embrace you. The twitching weight of his clothed cock brushed against your thigh. It wasn’t intentional—at least you didn’t think, but it only reminded you of what was to come next. 

As he slowed down, you felt your cum leaking down his knuckles and onto the bedsheets. 

“Was that…good?” Armin timidly asked between heavy breaths. Above you, he panted like a dog, even more than you, pretty pink lips parted as if he was the one being fucked. So cute. 

You stayed quiet for a moment, relishing in your subsiding orgasm, fatigued and cozy. 

“Mhm. That was amazing. You did amazing for your first time.” 

He visibly relaxed, slumped back onto his heels, and sighed. “Really? Th—Thank you.” 

Even from above you, he looked submissive, face filled with a desperate need. You giggled at his shyness. The irony of it. “Yes, Armin, you…you just made me cum. That’s…”

Uncertainty weighed down on your tongue. Impressive? Was it really impressive, or should it have been expected from him? A part of you knew that he didn’t need any effort. Not because he was somehow a natural or that he was a fast learner, but that it was him, and that gives your body enough stimulation to push itself off the edge. 

Hazy and blinded by your orgasm and the strong presence between your legs, you stopped yourself from dwelling on it any further.

“Y/N, what do I do with this…?” He lifted his hand, still slicked with your fluids. His middle and ring fingers parted further, and your shiny, milky cum stretched between his fingers. The sight almost made you gape, such a contrast to the curiosity and genuine concern brimming in his eyes. 

“Taste it.”

He sent you a look so incredulous and so quick, those blue eyes widened to the depths as if your suggestion meant total absurdity. “Taste it?”

“Taste it. It’s hot when men do that. Or, you could also make the girl taste it,” you pushed, rising from your spot. You grabbed his wrist, leading it closer to his mouth. 

He hesitated and tensed, but when his eyes met yours, you only leaned in, urging him with a look in your eyes. He complied quietly and stuck out his tongue. 

The sight was lewd. His face reddened impossibly more, up to the tips of his ears, as his mouth engulfed his two fingers wholly. He crinkled his nose so subtly that you couldn’t tell what ran through his mind. He tasted your fluids on his tongue, sucked it for a second, then swallowed. 

Armin’s fingers slid out with a little pop, and you didn’t waste another moment to cup his face and pull him in for a kiss, tasting yourself when you pressed your tongue against his. He moaned at the sudden intrusion but melted into you easily. You could already feel his improvement as he reciprocated your energy and licked your mouth so nicely that the naturalness of it baffled you. 

A passing thought in your head told you that this might’ve been too much for his first time, but when he dragged his clothed dick against your clit, you knew he enjoyed this as much as you did. You both shivered a little from the contact, prompting him to pull away.

“So…” he started, voice tiny and breathless. “What’s next?” But the way his eyes darted to your bare, leaking pussy and then to the bulge in his boxers suggested he knew exactly what came next. 

You looked, too. Looked at the tight fit of his boxers on his bulging cock. Something about it—the unexpected size of him—made you giddy. Swelled your stomach with an indescribable weirdness. 

“Take your boxers off.” Though you asked him, you couldn’t stop yourself from sneaking your hands to his hips and taking hold of the waistband. “Can I?” 

He nodded hurriedly and gulped, tension and desperation etched on his face. 

You pulled his boxers down, and with a little lift from his hips, you got them down to his strong thighs. Immediately, his cock sprung up against his abdomen, leaking precum that beaded down his red, aching tip. You licked your lips and gulped involuntarily at the sight because he was just so…

“Big…” you whispered softly. 

“What?” He sounded out of it, like his question hadn’t carried any weight, rubbing a palm over his eyelids and pushing it into his hair. Like he couldn’t believe his eyes. An unspoken awkwardness filled the air as Armin removed his boxers completely. “Is—Is something wrong?” 

He sat in front of you, naked in his entirety. Broad, smooth chest, taut, defined abs, muscly arms, thick thighs, and the softest, sweetest face that did not match the rock-hard, needy cock between his legs. 

“Armin, I…I didn’t know you were so…big.” 

He sputtered out, “W—What? I’m—I’m really not.”

He looked so nervous, so unsure. So sweet and so submissive. Instead of answering him, you wrapped both hands around his dick, lightly squeezed, and swiped a thumb over the slit where his precum spilled. You spread it down his shaft, wetting him with his own fluids. 

“Agh…fuck…” he groaned, throwing his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. When you started jerking your hands up and down the length of his dick, his head moved forward and his hands came to cup your face. His hips bucked up with every jerk. You sensed his stare, but you were too occupied playing with his pretty dick.

“You’re so beautiful,” he complimented quietly. He gulped so hard you heard the small breath that followed after. “I wish you could see how you look right now.” 

“Yeah?” you teased, looking up at him between your long lashes. His eyes, lidded and drooping with lust, scanned your body, from your face to where your legs parted and revealed your slit. 

“I don’t think you understand how pretty you are to me.” He inhaled sharply and brought a hand to squeeze the area where his shaft met his head, right over where your hand rested. “I could just cum looking at you.” 

You didn’t expect that from him. He was just so obscenely honest, wasn’t he?

“Y/N.” He suddenly stopped you with a hand on your shoulder. “I think—I think that’s good…don’t wanna take the spotlight. I’m here to please you.” 

Your chest warmed at his words, and you fought down the urge to continue pleasing him to release your hands. 

“O—Okay,” you stuttered out, gulping and shivering all in one breath. Your body moved on its own and reached for your nightstand. Deep in the last drawer, stashed behind all of your cluttered knick-knacks, sat an unopened box of condoms. Three, actually.

Shakily, under his watchful gaze, you tore apart a box and unveiled a singular, foiled package. 

"Oh, you have a lot." He stared in mild disbelief, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth, eyes crinkling. If you knew any better, you'd think he was smirking under there.

“It's not what it looks like! Sasha gifted it to me as a gag gift. I haven't done anything in a while,” you quickly defended, trailing off quietly at the end. 

He didn’t respond, eyes fixed on the package between your fingers. The air held still, deathly silent beside the sounds of the crinkling wrapper. He had a hand wrapped around the base of his cock, very lightly squeezing. 

“You know how to put on a condom?” you finally spoke up. 

“I think so.” He nodded. 

“Want to do it?” 

He hesitated, and you caught the exact moment an idea clicked in his head. “No. Want you to do it.” 

Something about that riled you up. Something about him watching you. Something about your dainty hands near his aching, needy cock, too impure for the likes of him. 

He whimpered when you started sliding the condom down the length of his cock. The sweet sound of it rang through your ears. Made your heart lurch and your stomach heavy. When you finished, your head lifted to look him in the eyes. His cheeks were flushed so pink you wanted to kiss the color off of them. 

“Ready?” You ignored the way your voice shook, borderline a stutter, and circled your arms around his neck. 

“Yes. Please,” he whined. He was speaking with his eyes—begging with his eyes.

In one fell swoop, you both clambered down onto the sheets. And in this moment, when your eyes met his in a sweet remembrance, it felt like time had stopped, and all the anticipation you’d ever felt plummeted back into the pit of your stomach and built back up all over again. 

He loomed above you, flushed, domineering, and most importantly, nervous.

You only wanted one thing. 

"Please. Need you inside me."

He inhaled a deep, unsteady breath, holding back a whine. 

Then, you felt the tip of his dick brush against the slicked mess of your opening, and you clenched around the empty, ghostly graze. The hands on your thighs pressed into you with a little more pressure at the contact. He was shaking. His whole body was shaking.

“P—Put it in slowly, ‘kay? Don’t want to hurt the other person.” 

Armin listened, and in that final moment of anticipation, he slid in slowly, just the tip. You both gasped at the feeling. You were so, so wet and your heart beat so, so fast and his skin against your skin felt so, so right and so, so warm. The stretch had yet to creep up on you but you were already squirming under his touch. 

He pushed into you, the feeling of him inside warm and fulfilling. He let out a strained “shitttt” as his hands moved to dig into your waist even harder. Eyes squeezed shut, he seemed to lose himself in the pleasure. You could tell by his labored breaths and flushed cheeks that he already was so, so sensitive.

With a final push, he bottomed out, touching a spot deep in you, far deeper than your fingers or his fingers or any other man that had come before him. And God, were you wet. Instinctively, your pussy clenched around him. 

He hissed, pinning you down with his pelvis. “Don’t. Don’t do anything. Please, or I’m going to cum.” 

And then it hit you—that you’d finally done it. That you’d just taken Armin’s virginity. 

You had. 

Shit, you clamped down on him again, and this time, he groaned and abruptly pulled out. 

“Y/N,” he warned, voice drawn with honey. ��I am not going to last,” he said, exasperated. 

“It’s okay. It’s your first time.” You placed a hand on his cheek. “Besides, you’re with me. You don’t have to worry about it.” 

He leaned into your touch, nuzzling into your hands, then gave you a small frown. 

“Then how am I supposed to make you feel good?”

“Trust me. You’ll always make me feel good.”

With a cute—yet sinful—smile and a hard swallow, he lined himself up again, hands on your thighs, and gave an experimental thrust.

You whined at the intrusion, reminded again of how he fit so perfectly. How the hardness of his cock dragged so pleasantly against the slickness of your pussy. 

And he did it again and again. Thrusted into you, albeit slowly, again and again. You’d let him intoxicate you again and again until all your body knew was the shape of his cock.

He moved deliberately, relishing every inch sheathed inside of you. He’d pull out with all the time in the world, dick coated in your wetness and eyes locked on where your bodies intertwined, and thrust back in with the most fervor and impatience.

The slowness of it, the intimacy of it—you couldn’t help but buck your hips in hopes of more. 

With soft moans, his thrusts sped up, and without a warning, you felt him fully, the whole weight of him spilling inside of you. His hands slid up to your waist as his head tipped forward. You arched your back into him in a silent plea, finding yourself yearning for his pretty lips, the knot inside of your stomach swelling with pleasure. As if he could read your mind, he drowned your lips in a feverish, hot, kiss, burning your mouth with his tongue. 

Every thrust met with the slap of skin-on-skin and the squelch of your fluids. It echoed through your bedroom walls alongside your muffled, whiny moans. You let yourself sink into the pleasure, letting him know that you felt good—that he made you feel good. 

Because truly, he did nothing wrong; it all felt so right with him. 

As he broke away from the kiss, leaving yet another string of saliva between you two, you took the chance to grab his hand. 

“Play with my body. Like here.” You placed his palm onto your breast, squeezing it with his hand underneath yours. “Or here.” You sensually dragged his hand down to your slicked-up, aching clit. 

Wordlessly, he complied, gulping down a constricted moan that bobbed his Adam’s apple. Armin rubbed your clit like you’d taught him, watching your hips wriggle under his touch.  

As a reward, you tightened around him. Oh, did you like seeing him lose composure. You liked picking him apart. You liked plucking the petals off of this innocent, little flower. And judging from his dazed, barely present expression and the hands gripping hard onto your hips, you knew he liked it too.

He whined again, and the sound rang in the air in a soft whisper. So vocal, wasn’t he?

“Don’t be afraid to make noise. I wanna know how good you feel,” you asserted through lidded eyes. 

Armin hummed a noise of confirmation, but it came out more of a moan as he juggled responding to you and recklessly pounding into you. You could tell he felt good—too good—as did you. 

The ebb and flow of pleasure swam inside you with each fill of his cock into your pussy, waiting to burst. You felt so close yet far away, but you let him experiment, toying with you, trying every angle in both erratic and deliberate ways. 

“Fuck!” you both cursed simultaneously with a perfect thrust into that spot inside of you. Your back arched off the bed unwillingly, arms clasping around his back and nails digging into his skin. 

Armin moaned oh-so-sweetly. “I’m so close!” he panted out, a borderline whine. 

“Cum for me. Please, Armin. Do it.” 

And his hips never stopped. Kept fucking hastily and sloppily into you in chase of his climax and in chase of the sweet yelps pouring out of your mouth. You spurred him on, almost able to taste his final moment. 

But the moment never came. You could hear the relentless, wet smack of your colliding bodies and the mix of low groans and hearty moans tumbling from his lips. His hips still never stopped, still chasing, still tasting. 

You couldn’t believe he lasted this long. He really did want to hold out for you, to make you feel good. 

Mewling again, you tightened your arms around his neck, the warmth scalding but the softness soothing under your fingertips. “Touch me. Please.” 

His fingers pinched your perk nipple before you could even finish your sentence. He rolled the bud around with his thumb and forefinger until he heard you moan, finally laying a palm down to squeeze your entire tit—and squeezed hard. You relished in the way his hand trailed down, slowly, to where he could swipe his fingers over your throbbing clit. 

Right now, all you knew was the shape of his cock. Heat radiated from his body and wrapped around you in a warm embrace. His breath tickled your earlobe, face hovering just above the crook of your neck. 

Oh, please, it felt so good, so intimate. Everything about this. Everything about him. 

"I love you. I love you so much,” he rasped through squeezed-shut eyes.

You looked at him wide-eyed, confused, and spellbound within the haze of lust, so out of that you believed your ears played a trick on you. It slipped out of his lips so wantonly you believed he uttered the words accidentally.

Your room suddenly felt too stuffy and a hundred more degrees hotter. A lone, oddly watchful bead of sweat rolled down your brow. 

It took him only a second of your silence before he started nervously blabbering in your ear. "Um, wait, sorry. Shit. I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that. I got lost in the moment. I’m sorry.” 

He slowly inched away from you, but you paid no mind and pulled him back onto your lips. 

You didn’t care that, caught so deep in emotion and pleasure, he said “I love you” during sex—during his first time, no less. His first time with you. And now, after it happened, you didn’t care to warn him of that taboo. You wanted to selfishly indulge in the possibility that he’d always say it to you, regardless of who he shared his first time with. 

In your pleasurable bliss, you let yourself give in. “I love you too, Armin.”

He pulled away abruptly, your lips pulling apart with a wet click, disrupting the strange magnetism between the two of you. 

"I'm sorry,” he whispered, then kissed you full force. 

His love seeped into every pore of your body when he started thrusting into you again, full and hard and deep and starved. He didn’t spare you a chance to breathe with the way his mouth and cock engulfed you whole. 

A mixture of whines, moans, and smacks filled your bedroom once more. The pounding rhythm between your legs grew sloppier, though still unyielding and energetic. You wanted to cry out, louder than ever and let your neighbors know because everything felt so unexpectedly good. Armin. Your best friend. 

You ran your hands through his already-messed-up, blonde hair. You loved this look on him, a side of him that people never saw. Disheveled, falling apart, and...crazy.

He leaned back on his knees, still moving his hips, lust-filled eyes a dark, stormy blue that raked over your body. 

And he did something you didn't expect of him—like he let it slip, like he couldn't keep his composure anymore. 

He smirked down at you. 

But you were convinced it was a mere twitch in your delirium, disappearing when you blinked. 

His tip brushed your G-spot again, and you finally did cry out. “Right there! D—Don’t stop!” 

Armin groaned in response, choking on his words, and suddenly laved a tongue over the pulse point in your neck. “You feel—you feel so good! I can’t hold…!”

That coil in your stomach thrashed with the need to burst and taunted you with the promise of an orgasm. You felt tight all over, so constricted with pleasure and emotion and heat. 

“Y/N, you’re driving me crazy, I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I’m—”

“M—Me, too! I’m close. Cum for me, please.”  

With one last thrust, he came, moaning loud, spilling hot cum into the condom. You felt him twitch inside you as a gradual warmth filled your insides. 

Fuck, that did it for you. You came right behind him, wrapping your legs around him tight like a vice, white-hot pleasure consuming every vein in your body. In that moment, you kissed him and clamped your eyes shut, focusing hard, your cunt squeezing down on him to wring out the last of his orgasm, fluttering and pulsing so uncontrollably hard. It was like your pussy never wanted to let him go, wanted to relish the last of that feeling of home when his cock rooted deep into your pussy. 

All the while, he spewed praises at you, some dirty, some sweet.

You couldn’t tell how long the two of you took to come down, to stop kissing, for your cunt to stop gushing, and for him to pull out—because it seemed like that moment lasted forever. Your cum coated your pelvis, his pelvis, your thighs, his thighs, and the already-soaked bedsheets.

With bated breaths and shaky hands, he pulled off the condom, tied the latex up, wrapped it in a tissue from your bedside, and threw it onto the floor where it landed among your sparsely scattered clothes. 

Armin slumped down on you, wrapping strong arms around your waist in a suffocating, hot embrace. You gladly welcomed his weight. 

It smelled of sex, sweat, and the dwindling remnants of his cologne.

You laid there, catching your breath. 

You did it. He did it. You finished taking his virginity, and he successfully made you cum during the process. 

And everything left you wondering…

Why was that…good? Sex with a virgin. Sex with your best friend. Did you even teach him enough? Because that was definitely a learning experience for you. The post-orgasm clarity hit you now like a slipper to the face, and you couldn’t wrap your head around what just happened. 

Sleepily, you broke the silence, “Good job, Armin. You did amazing. You’re attentive, a fast learner, and just already so good to me. You made me cum twice. For a virgin.” A hearty laugh parted from your throat as you strung your fingers through his mussed hair. “I guess you aren’t one anymore.”

Armin remained silent. Was he already asleep?

In the quiet darkness, your heart started beating fast, even after the sex. Laying here felt domestic, like somebody made this bed for the two of you to snuggle in tonight, like a real couple. 

Armin, face wedged between your sheets and your shoulder, hugged you impossibly tighter when he shifted to look at you. 

“Thank you. I love you, Y/N.”

He breathed those three words with so much adoration in his eyes, gazing at you longingly beneath his thick, long lashes. The blue of his eyes shone brightly even in the dim lighting and through the hair obscuring his face. 

“I really do love you,” he continued. “Not because of the sex. But because you’re a good friend. Thank you for letting me be vulnerable.”

Oh my gosh. You really didn’t deserve him. You’d exchanged your fair share of sentimental, platonic “I love you’s” to each other, but this one wrenched your heart like no other. Especially after sex. 

He left you at a loss for words. But sleep tugged at your eyelids and your mind screamed at you to clean up and your post-nut clarity still remained unresolved; you couldn’t think of a reply even if you wanted to. 

Even overwhelmed, your heart called out to him and you mustered up something. 

“I’m grateful to have you as a best friend. I love you,” you gritted out. 

Wrong. So, so wrong. Right now, this conversation was getting too emotional for a strictly physical agreement. But you didn’t lie nevertheless, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise. 

Feeling grimy, you wriggle under his hold. “We should clean up. It’s good for women to pee after sex.”

As the final rip of the bandaid, he pecked you on your jaw. “I can’t.” 

Your face twisted in confusion, still clouded by tiredness and the daze of lingering thoughts. “You can’t?”

“I can’t help it,” he suddenly mumbled. 

“Armin, what are you—”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence when you felt something poking your thigh, stiff and hard. 

Armin groaned deep in his chest, the sound rumbling against the shell of your ear as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. 

The hands that were once wrapped around your body slowly released their hold and grabbed onto your hips, hard and impatient. Armin started rutting into your thighs, dragging you along with him. 

Your heart stuttered for a moment, in disbelief that he could keep going and that you would have to keep going, but your pussy clenched around nothing at the promise of something more.

“Can’t help it. I’m—I’m hard again.” 

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[letters-from-cutie]

The Scouts as Your College Boyfriends [Headcanon]

CHARACTERS: Eren, Armin, Jean, Connie, Erwin and Levi x gn!Reader (slighty spicy at the end)

If you like to see others, please tell me. I'll try this concept again for Levi, and maybe Eren/Jean too. I apologize for some scenarios being bigger than others. I'm Brazilian so I don't know how college works in other places, so don't mind if sounds different to you. English is not my first language.

˗ˏˋ EREN YEAGER ˎˊ˗

He seeks justice in all his lifetimes. So, I see him enrolling in law to be a prosecutor. He wants to get justice for victims. However, he may switch to criminal defense as he learns more about the system and life.

Besides law, he's also interested in social studies so he may change his course for that. I can also see him wanting a political job, especially after high school. He aspired to make the world a better place. But, as he gets older, he becomes more skeptical about that.

Studies aside, he is such a cool guy to hang out with. He goes to some parties but never lets his studies aside. On the contrary of his high school years, as a college student, he is dedicated enough to get very good grades, though he barely studies, what an icon.

He meets you after he picks a fight with your ex. You just ended things with him and is trying to avoid him around campus. But, you would eventually have to go through his class corridor one day.

And of course, he is there when you do. The guy wants to talk to you so badly and paint himself as innocent, but Eren won't let that happen, as he already has enough of him, because of his problematic commentaries during class.

Eren, wanting no trouble with his professor, stays calm and ignores your ex during class. But, now, as he sees your ex trying to force you to speak with him, Eren finds a chance to finally get back to him.

He calls him off right there, in the middle of the corridor, in a humiliating but smart way. Eren also offers to escort you away from him. You, always the revengeful (rightly so), accept his companion.

So Eren throws his arms around your shoulders and looks behind him to shoot that look (yk the one) towards the guy. And so your love story begins.

Congrats, you got the hottest guy in college. That comes with ups and downs, but mainly ups. Eren is absolutely devoted to his partner, you. In theory, there's nothing you should be afraid of.

He'll do anything for you and will protect you from everything that can harm you. If you have a problem with a member of your group project, ask him to resolve it, and he'll be happy to oblige.

The downside of being with Eren is that he gets girls and boys enamored with him all the time. But he pays them no mind.

Eren would never look to anyone other than you, so he gets annoyed when someone tries to hit on him, and probably has a good comeback to it. Though he understands if you get jealous, and will take you immediately to the bathroom to prove you wrong.

Expect to hang out a lot with Mikasa and Armin, as Eren asks you to go with him on most of their outings. Their hangouts are mostly calm. The trio enjoys exploring towns and new places. Therefore, you should be prepared to always check on new locations and have different experiences with them.

You'll always have a place in Mikasa and Armin's hearts, and it makes Eren even more in love with you when he sees how much you guys get along.

Lastly, expect him to be in your dorm a lot. He loves to cuddle with you at night, and you can't say no to his cute sleepy face, desiring you to untie his hair and play with it. And it's even harder to say no to his sexy morning voice.

It sends shivers down your spine every time he wakes you up, asking you to stay for some minutes and skip the first period of classes. How can you say no to him when you know that in his arms you'll have the time of your life?

˗ˏˋ ARMIN ARLET ˎˊ˗

Many people link him to marine biology because of his interest in the ocean, which I agree with, but comes from a different perspective. I see him being more into the concept of traveling and discovering new things than anything.

I imagine him wanting a job that lets him stay put but also change settings from time to time. Biology and marine biology are great for that if you desire to study, protect, and care for wild flora or fauna.

Also, he sounds to me like a guy who enjoys brain challenges, so a scientific field is something that would keep him engaged. He will pursue education further than most people would, as he enjoys learning new things and overall the academic field.

But, this also means that he's a big nerd. He does hang out with his friends, but he prefers to stay indoors, so he is more likely to attend these types of reunions.

Mikasa and Eren are his best friends. He also has other companions, so he's not the lonely type of nerd. He's just a smart, yet introverted guy.

He's such a booklover, so it makes sense for him to get a part-time job at his university's library. Armin quickly learns about how everything works and it's the best at the job they ever had. So if you need any help finding something, go after him.

That's how you met him. You like the library for its silence and academic atmosphere that keep you focused on your studies. Armin's shifts are when you're also free to study, so you always see him when you go there, and quickly get a crush on the blondie.

He is such a cute and polite guy. Armin always greets you when you arrive and get a book, but you're kinda insecure that he is just being polite, seeing how he also treats other students.

But one day, you find yourself needing a helping hand to find your books. So you take it as a chance to talk to Armin. Though he seems rather busy, surrounded by two students you think you've seen before.

Going back to the shelves, you find yourself looking for this specific book for quite some time, that is until you feel him behind you. In Armin's hands lays the exact book that you need. Before handing it to you, he says that he needs to doublecheck it quickly, and goes to the direction his friends were.

When he hands the book to you, you find a cute post-it on the first page. It has a motivational phrase, a drawn smiley face, and a number. You can thank Mikasa and Eren later for the push they did on Armin, cause that's how you meet your boyfriend.

Armin is such a sweetheart. He always checks up on you: if you have studied for your tests if you've done your assignments on time, if you have rested after so many classes...

This is his way of taking care of you, in the middle of his own busy student life. Also, you don't need calendars anymore, baby boy remembers everything you say to him.

He takes you to study dates, where you'll spend half an hour studying, half an hour making out, then repeat. He settles his dorm with warm lights and will help you if you ask, somehow he can understand your lessons even better than you at first read.

If you're in the artistic field or an overall very different field for him, the relationship becomes such a learning experience for him. He enjoys sitting down at night with you, while you show him your project that you just ended. He looks at you with those big blue eyes.

He is so tender and shows so much admiration that takes your breath away, and you need to recollect yourself to go back to your work. Then, he will proudly take you to bed. He'll show you how much he enjoys your work. To relax you after your hard work, a great oil massage and some sexy times will follow.

˗ˏˋ JEAN KIRSCHTEIN ˎˊ˗

Jean is most of us out of high school: lost. So it is not a surprise that he chooses business or managing courses, - very common and vast fields to study on. He doesn't know where he wants to work yet.

All he knows is that he enjoys the frat lifestyle shown in movies. Ironically, at the same time, he wants a romance of books and he needs a job.

So as time passes, he finds himself enjoying HR, which he plans his career around and pushes his studies further. For me, Jean is a great leader and cares a lot for others, so HR is perfect for him. Plus he looks amazing in a suit/working outfit (mine and his words).

Like I said, he first wanted to experience the frat life. During his first semester, all he does is party, even more than Connie and Sasha together.

It's funny because all he wants is love and to have some fun, but he is too young and was created in a world that directed him to pursue a fuckboy life.

The reality is that he is anything but a fuckboy, he cannot even go to bed with someone without catching feelings. After some time, he can't sustain this lifestyle. With so many rejections and bad grades, he desires to change. He wishes to be a person he can be proud of.

That is how he finds himself pursuing mentoring classes. It may be for his own subjects, calculus, or for his writing, whatever you feel like you'd teach him in this scenario.

At first, you thought it was a prank... One of the top fuckboys of your college is wanting your help?

In the first classes, you have to reprehend him on some of his attitudes, but he always listens to what you say. The way you treat him so well makes him fall for you, no one had such patience with him before. So, he starts to do everything and anything to entice you.

Expect flowers on your doorstep. Chocolates will somehow slip into your bag when you aren't looking. And when opening the books you use with him, you'll find post-its with corny pick-up lines. It's obvious he wants you.

You confront him one day and tell him to spend his dedication on studies instead of trying to get into your pants. Jean was being truthful, but at first, you don't believe he'd change like that.

He promises you that he is changing into a better version of himself, and asks you to go out with him if he gets a full score in all his subjects. That seemed so impossible that you accepted the deal.

Jean took it as a challenge, and soon enough, you found yourself on a park date with him. After he spent so many nights studying to get good grades, he deserves some fun right? He even got an internship! And so more dates follow.

As a lover, this man is your devote, and you're his god/dess. He never hangs out without you, I mean never, so you bet you're gonna be friends with his friends too. He goes to fewer parties once he starts dating you.

Jean now prefers more intimate hangouts with you and his friends. He loves movie dates, because it's a win-win for him, as he can get some fun far from campus and keep his hands all around you with no one looking funny at him.

He is very touchy, so expect him to want proximity with you and be very clingy, but he does the most adorable pout when you deny him that you can't resist. Also, being so close to you allows him to lower his head and whisper nasty things in your ear. Meanwhile, his hands "innocently" roam your body.

The asshole knows what he is doing. But don't worry, handling all the teasing is worth it once you get alone in a secluded place and he kneels before you, to treat you good this time.

˗ˏˋ CONNIE SPRINGER ˎˊ˗

I'm not quite sure about his major per se, partially because I think he would not be that enthusiastic about it either. But s4 Connie gives me engineering vibes, especially electrical engineering.

That being said, his main interest is sports and frat life. He's an active and extroverted guy who likes to have fun as much as he can and may go parting sometimes.

He hangs out with Sasha and Jean the most, and sometimes with the other 104th too, making a big and messy group. But I assure you, he is the funniest and most unhinged one, never letting the hangouts get boring. Connie is the life of the group together with his best friend Sasha.

Eventually, he gets a part-time job, and becomes such a hard worker! This is great since he's able to learn to be more responsible and serious when needed.

He meets you at a party. You're in a corner, using your phone. You don't care for the party, but it was your friend's birthday. So, you had to be there.

This little guy didn't even know your friend, but he needed to get his mind off work and his upcoming tests. Eventually, Connie found you by yourself and decided to interact. Connie is not the type to let someone be uncomfortable around, he wants everyone to have a good time.

So he goes after you and stays because you picked his interests, and you both have the time of your life, dancing and laughing from his attics. When it gets too late, he takes you to your home and you offer your phone number in exchange to catch up, and so it begins...

Dating him is never boring. Baby likes to make you laugh, and says that it is the cutest motivation for him to wake up in the morning. He'll get out of his class a bit early to wait outside of your class, he tells you he was bored, and it's true, but he mainly missed you.

He messages you during your classes, sending memes and photos of his friends making funny faces at his teacher, but somehow he never gets caught.

Connie goes to parties with you to show you off to his friends. No one (especially Jean) believes that he got you initially, but after some time with you, they see how much compatible you two are.

If you're tired or not in the mood for going out, he sits with you in the car, blasting nostalgic and cheerful loud music, as you go around campus. Expect lots of sonography while you're walking around.

When you're in his or your dorm, he likes to tell you all about his day, while you guys cook or do some chores together. If you're cooking, expect many food fights ending with cute flour kisses and apologies from him. Connie is not a fan of chores (unlike Levi) but he enjoys spending time with you, so that's a bonus.

Also, please, remind him to study for his exams! He gets forgetful about this kinda of stuff and may get lower grades because of it, or procrastinate if he finds it boring. However, do not study with him, he will not let you, and you'll get lower grades but it may be worth it for the laughs and the flirting.

Look out, or he'll take you to the bedroom as soon as he starts to check you out so focused, so sexy for him. And I'll have to tell you; after he treats you so well, you will not want to do anything other than be lost in him.

˗ˏˋ ERWIN SMITH ˎˊ˗

Of all of them, he's the most obvious to me. First of all, he desires to get multiple degrees during his life, as a curious and cultured guy. So depending on your age difference, you may meet him during his first, second, or even third degree. He thinks about being a professor too, like his dad, but being more of an activist too.

Erwin definitely gets some work inside the university, either as a mentor or helping the faculty. Therefore, he is spending most of his time there. That's how he knows almost everyone around college, or at least most faculty members and talented students.

He is commonly seen with his friends: Levi, Hanji, Nanaba, and Mike, doing plans for hangouts with them. They can range from a simple movie night to an elaborate weekend in a cabin in the mountains.

Usually, the fun hangouts, like parks and trials are planned by Hanji. The active ones are chosen by Mike or Nanaba, such as going out to bars or playing sports. And Levi says that he never wants to go, but he is there anyway. They walk around college together alluring this "veteran" aura, very cool.

For one semester, you'll see him with your favorite professor, Mr. Smith, who you need to talk with. Erwin just stands there, looking so classy and smart that you're intimidated at first. However, as soon as your professor sees you, he introduces you to Erwin, who takes an interest in the project you're developing.

With that, you discover that he's the professor's son, while the older man just looks at you both with a strange knowing look. Erwin offers to help you, with your project, but he probably can't due to his proximity to your professor. He knows that. Erwin is just using it as an excuse to ask for your number, and it works.

Erwin is such a good boyfriend and a gentleman. He always meets you before the morning classes with a warm cup of your favorite beverage. He's such a busy person, with all the classes he is attending, work, and projects, but somehow he always makes time for his friends and you.

Also, he loves planning dates and invites you to the hangouts he has with his friends. Prepare yourself for cute museum dates, and fancy dinners after he gets his salary of the month. He likes to spoil you.

He surprises you sometimes, asking to meet in a random campus location, and surprising you with a sweet picnic under the tree. Erwin states that he's making up for his busy day ahead, and you both sit in comfortable silence, enjoying each other's company and maybe a book. That is at least until you hear Hanji's greetings from afar, followed by Levi trailing behind them with a scowl.

Sometimes, you wonder if dating Erwin is a package that comes with his friends as extra. However, be assured that at the end of the day, you'll get your alone time with him behind the sheets. Erwin will make it up to you in a way that'll make you even forget that anyone else exists other than him.

˗ˏˋ LEVI ACKERMAN ˎˊ˗

This guy doesn't even know why he's here nor how he got here in the first place. I mean, he is such a flexible character, I can see him in many degrees but for this multiple headcanon I'll stick with just three.

Levi as a teacher would be so iconic. He may pursue education because he had good teachers before and believed that they helped him take things seriously and not go to "the bad side" of life.

I see him in law pursuing it to be a judge or prosecutor too, he wants to see "rats" (his words), going to jail and will be pleased to be the one putting them there.

Since criminology fits more his persona so well, I don't think I need to discuss it that much. I'll just state that detective/forensic Levi would be the best of his generation. So it definitely an option too.

Enough of flattering him. As a student, Levi terrifies his professors, why? you ask me. He walks into class, sits down, and almost never moves an inch. He does not talk or ask questions. At the end of the term, he'll get the highest scores. He even works in a respected office already! The professors' days are counted... Ah wait that was flattering again? Oh well...

Anyway, he is the scary dog of his group, I mean like those scary little dogs, not the big ones. Levi walks with people twice his side, who together know everyone in college, but he just sticks with the three of them.

It's with them that he passes his free time. It's funny because he may sound like a hater and says that they are glued to him. But it's actually the opposite, he is the one to look after their hangouts the most.

One thing about college Levi is that he loves his coffee and tea. He knows every café in town but doesn't really enjoys the college ones, like the one you've been transferred to.

He only goes there when there is no other option, and says that the coffee is cold and the tea always tastes like toilet water. That is why your coworkers prepare you mentally for the infamous day you'll get to serve him.

The day comes, and you're alone at the counter, you don't even realize that is The guy everyone was so scared about. You quietly hand him his thing, and he goes away just as quietly, and so it becomes a routine. One day he comes with his friends, who are throwing you looks every moment or so (it's just Hanji).

Eventually, they leave. When you go to clean their tables, you see a note on it, it's a number. It's not Levi who wrote it, but Hanji. He didn't allow them to give out his number so they gave theirs. Soon enough, you start to hang out with the group.

And being part of the group means being part of Levi's heart. Your relationship starts like that, evolving from friends, to fwb to lovers. However, Levi treats you like you're his for so long, and you're dumb to not notice (his words).

Expect him to always walk you home. Look at him and you'll see him already looking back at you, then acting as if he didn't. He'll fetch you drinks and food during class recess, and he'll do so much stuff a boyfriend would do to you.

Eventually, he does become your boyfriend. Like I said, Levi already treated you like you were his before it was official, but after it, it just becomes less subtle. He will only get enough sleep when you're in bed with him. Also, your place will be spotless, he says that you can't clean but it's just an excuse for him to do something back.

Levi will stay by your side as you complain about a messed up class you had. He allows you to cry on his neatly cleaned sweater about a failed test. He'll even buy you ice cream while you ramble about your group member who didn't do their job. And like Eren, if someone else were to blame for your stress or tears, he would do something about it.

He never expects you to do something back for him. You being here for him is enough, it's his main motivation for dealing with annoying college life every day.

But if you're really into rewarding him them we will not complain if you get in his lap and be good for him too. Oh, it may even become a competition, as you both pleasure each other for hours after a tiring and busy day.

Like/Reblog if you enjoyed reading it, and Follow for more AOT content 💖

[kamospeach]

plot: country!reiner meets a cute little slut at his lake house party :P

content warning: nothin really

peachy's yap: something about reiner with an accent sits SO right with me. if you remember he made a lil cameo in the plug!ony fic :3 part 2 coming soon

was this a waste of your day off, which you rarely get? yes, absolutely. did you care though? no not one bit. if you did, you wouldn't be leaning on suguru geto's arm, having your feet in armin's lap, or making sanji run back and forth to get you food and drinks to proclaim his love for you.

so to say the least, you were having fun. you weren't thinking about much either. you sat watching people jump in the lake or run around the house. although you had no idea whose house this was, you were sure splurging.

food, drinks, snacks, water, even using the bathroom to fix up your makeup. but while you sat and enjoyed your time, your eyes caught the most amazing sight. a guy. yea, it's true, any guy really caught your attention, but this one was different.

he was tall, blond, buff, but his stomach had a pudge. happy trail peaking out through his swim trunks as he walked toward where you sat. he slicked his wet hair back as he began talking to eren.

your eyes never left him as you watched his every move. seeing him grab a towel, the way the veins in his arms protruded as he wiped his face. you watched as he threw the towel over his shoulder, going to the grill.

suguru watched as your eyes stayed trained onto him, laughing to himself. you turned to look at, questioning what was so funny. only for suguru to clear his throat, giving you a scare. he laughed, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

"like what you see?" he asked, and you nodded, eyes still trained on the blonde. you wanted to get up and go talk to him, but you were drunk enough.

even though you wanted to wait until you were as drunk as possible, it didn't matter because suguru had other plans.

"reiner!" he yelled, waving this so-called reiner over. you quickly took your feet off of armin's lap, sitting up like a respectable young woman. of course, reiner seen you trying extra hard, but he thought it was cute.

"geto, how ya' been?" he asked, holding his hand out to firmly shake suguru's hand. although your eyes were trained on the very visible veins in his arm, your mind was trained on his southern accent. mixed with the deep raspiness of his voice was like heaven on earth.

"man, i told you, you can call me suguru." he laughed, and reiner shrugged that's just how his momma raised him.

"jus' how i was raised, it'sa habit." he laughed, eyes trailing over to you. "who's the pretty lady?" the subtle compliment causing your face to run hot. you looked at suguru hoping he'd introduce you, but he looked back at you.

"i'm y/n." you introduce yourself reaching out for his hand. he wasted no time taking your smaller hands in his insanely big calloused ones.

"nice to meet ya, y/n, i'm reiner, welcome to my house." he greeted you, and your eyes practically popped out of your head. this big lake house belonged to this man?

"thank you for having me," you smiled and he laughed, letting go of your hand to get back to grilling. you turned to look at suguru, who gave you a lazy wave. "what?"

"that's the best you could do? i thought you wanted him," he asked, and you scoffed, he knew you could get what you wanted from him. but because you decided to turn over a new leaf (getting to know the man before giving it up) he wanted to tempt you.

"i could sleep with him if i wanted but i really want to get to know him." you protested, and suguru shrugged. you could admit that suguru wasn't the best influence, and you let yourself be swayed by his taunting.

building the courage to go stand next to reiner by the grill. a blended drink in your hand that you sipped on seductively, looking up at him through your lashes. you both small-talked until you decided you’d let him finish what he was doing. once he took all the meat off the girl and wiped the sweat off his forehead, he turned his attention to you.

"m'sorry sweetheart i had to finish that 'fore i got too tired." he chuckled and your eyes practically had heart eyes hearing the way the pet name rolled off his tongue like honey. "what were ya sayin'?"

"oh, i was asking how old you were," you repeated as the two of you sat on a small bench. he leaned back, placing his right leg on his left knee, throwing his arm on the back of the chair behind you.

"26 you?" he returned the question, looking you up and down. to you, it looks like he was assessing your age for himself, but reiner was definitely checking you out.

he admired your white french tips and your diamond-studded anklet. moving his sight to your shorts that left nothing to the imagination and the skimpy bikini top that showed off your sternum tattoo.

"i'm 22," you tell him, of course not really interested in the small talk anymore. the more you looked at the shirtless man beside you, the less restraint you had. "it's getting late, won't you get cold?"

"yeah probably..." he hummed pulling out a fresh toothpick from his pocket. you watched as he peeled the plastic wrapper before placing the toothpick in his mouth. your eyes were trained on him and he knew it.

his southern hospitality wouldn't allow him to act on what he was thinking. but it definitely didn't stop the rising tent in his pants. something that you didn't notice, and he really didn't care if you saw.

"maybe we should go inside then," you advised, and reiner already knew where this was going. he wanted it just as bad as you did, and you asking to go inside while everyone else was outside was the greenlight he needed.

"we can go ta my room if ya want," he added, acting innocent as if he didn't really know what he was asking you. you being oblivious to the game he was playing agreed. you thought you had this poor man wrapped around your finger. when in reality he was matching the energy you were giving.

"sure!" you said happily giving him an innocent smile. luckily for you, there were only about 5 people in the house. so walking past them to go upstairs wasn't as awkward as you expected.

when you both made it to his room, and initially you weren't planning to look around. but when you see a bunch of pictures of reiner as a kid. some as a baby, some as a young kid with soccer gear holding a trophy.

"aww, you played soccer?" you asked, walking over to his desk, bending down to look at the photo. "even got a lil trophy," you smiled, and reiner scoffed.

"didn't hafta do much, it was a participation trophy. i was ass." he laughed scratching the back of his neck. he was a bit embarrassed to admit it but your smile looking back at him made him feel better.

"at least you were a cute kid." you cooed but it turned in a gasp when you felt reiner press his hardon against your ass.

"am i cute to ya now?" he asked, leaning forward to whisper in your ear. the hairs on the back of your neck were standing up and a chill ran up your spine. the accent made it worse, turning you on even more.

"yeah, you're just my type." that was the last thing you remembered saying before reiner picked you up and threw you on the bed.

[i-mean-y-not]

The Boy Next Door

Armin is the quintessential boy next door. No, quite literally, his family moved in when he was thirteen and you were twelve.

He was always reserved.

You watched each other grow up. From a distance, of course, seeing as you never spoke to each other outside of neighborly dinners.

While you ran in different social circles, you swear he was always in your peripheral. You tended to stick with the crowd that tolerated school but was prepared to skip a class at a moments notice.

His group of friends, however didn’t really… suit him. Onyankopon was this calm yet smoldering guy, but remained casual in his social settings. You’d never seen him utter a word but his eyes spoke volumes. Connie was the definition of hyper. With his expressive and colorful wardrobe and the almost manic way he approached everything. Eren was one of the most nonchalant people you’ve ever seen. His hair was always in a half up – half down style, and his eyes pierced through even the thinnest of gazes.

Then, there was Armin.

The one that wore a collared shirt and a pullover with the name of a prestigious university on it almost daily. Armin screamed teenage dream. With his signature floppy blonde hair, and quiet laugh that he never showcased more than twice in your presence.

Armin had lofty dreams. Claiming since he was all the fourteen that he was going to Yale. And despite his friend group, he was determined to do just that. While he’s getting acceptance letters, no doubt and planning to move halfway across the world, you were stuck. Confused, without a clue, aspiration, or goal that you truly wanted to pursue.

You’ve been accepted to your local college and plan on taking your general studies there, but after that? It’s all up in the air. Graduation comes and goes and the finality sinks in.

You toss and turn in your bed the week after and find yourself sneaking out of the house to sit on the beach adjacent to your home. The ocean waves lull you into a peaceful slumber and before you know it, you’re being gently shaken awake. Groggily, you pop an eye open and you’re immediately met with blue.

The ocean has nothing on this blue, though. This blue is a mixture between the sky on its clearest day and hues that streak the sky on the darkest night. This blue stares at you in worry as you hurriedly sit up despite your obvious fatigue.

“The hell is wrong with you?” you murmur, slapping at Armin’s hands. He responds by throwing them up in quiet surrender. He sits on the sand next to you and this is the closest you’ve been in about a year.

“Been a minute.”

And yeah that voice is still the same.

It’s the perfect blend of soothing and gruff and you’re tempted to fall right back asleep again after a three measly words.

“It has,” you respond.

“You okay?” he counters. Just then the breeze flies between the two of you and you inhale the eucalyptus scent that flows off him.

“Fine.” you reply.

That’s all you have and with an awkward yet self assured stumble, you get up, shake the sand off, and start the trek back to your house.

It’s not that you dislike Armin.

No, that was the farthest from the truth. You liked him, a little too much. A crush would be an understatement. You yearned for him. Looked out for him at school, at parties, even through your second story window.

You don’t really know when it started. Somewhere between the mandatory dinners and being semi-friends in middle school.

But he’s never seen you that way and that’s okay.

So, you steer clear. You always have and you fear that you always will. But he has other plans, it seems. Because as the summer approaches its end he’s everywhere.

He’s at the beach when you can’t sleep. He’s at the convenience store when you run in for a ginger ale. He’s even at the pool that you barely frequent because you can’t swim.

And now he’s at your local diner sitting right next to you at the dine-in counter.

You don’t notice that it’s him at first. Content to enjoy your greasy cheeseburger and cookies and cream milkshake, you feel someone take the seat next to you while you munch happily on a fry.

The twenty something waitress bats her eyes and asks for the order of the patron. They pause and respond, “Can I have a vanilla milkshake with a large fry, heavy on the seasoning?”

Your head snaps to the right at that oddly specific order. And there he was. You don’t greet him, too flummoxed by the intense way he’s already staring at you.

You’re content to swivel back around in your seat and sip at your milkshake once more. He doesn’t stay silent for long, however.

“Hi,” he greets.

And the sigh you give is more like a seventy mile an hour gust of wind in a hurricane. “Can I help you?”

His eyes don’t waver for even a millisecond. He hums to himself, a quiet, raspy sound that tapers off before he replies. “You can actually.”

Your eyes blink owlishly at him as the waitress sits his order down in front of him. Instead of answering, your eyebrows almost meet in the middle of your forehead. “Go out with me.”

And you almost fall backwards onto the unsterile floor. The fry that was meant for your mouth now hangs limply in your hand.

What is going on?

“Check please!” You exclaim.

Now his head slams back as if he’s been physically assaulted. The waitress scurries over, check in hand. You take it from her, and almost instantly, a gentle hand covers yours.

“I got it,” Armin murmurs with a smile that graces just the corner of his lips.

“No,” you adamantly refuse. You already felt hot at the mere thought of going a date with him and if you stay any longer, you’ll cry from the need to shout an affirmative for everyone to hear. So, instead of reading the amount due, you slam down two twenty dollar bills and book it.

It’s two weeks later when there’s a small gathering at Armin’s home. A going away dinner, as one would put it, and you pretend to be sick in order to stay home.

There’s no need to rub elbows with a guy that just acknowledged your existence two Wednesdays ago. So, you sit this one out. You’re more than happy to pass the time under your blanket and streaming a show you’ve seen a thousand times.

You’re fading into an almost slumber when there’s a quiet knock at your door. Your eyes blink open blearily and you hum an almost silent, “Come in.”

A blonde head peeps in and cerulean eyes peer at you from your doorway. You fold your lips in and sit up slightly as an invitation and he’s opening the door so he’ll fit. The slight tilt of your head must give away your confusion so he holds up a paper bag and your head dips even further.

“I heard you were sick,” he offers by way of explanation. The way you have to physically restrain yourself from jumping on him is ridiculous, because what?

Why is he making it so hard for you?

You just wanted him to go off to school and let you have your sad girl hours in peace.

“You can leave it, thanks.” You offer with a small nod.

“You don’t even know what it is, though?” Biting the inside of your cheek you decide to swallow this ridiculous pill of faux friendliness. “Ramen,” he answers before you get a syllable out of your mouth.

And you’re surprised that you don’t have a raging headache because of all the odd movements you’ve forces your cranium into. Ramen is your favorite food, especially on days when you were feeling sick. Ramen was your favorite food when you were feeling…anything. So, the fact that it’s here, steaming in his hand confuses you.

“I went to that place you like,” he says. Which makes you think that this is making less and less sense.

Upon looking at the logo on the bag, you realize that it is in fact from your favorite shop which is perplexing. Thirty minutes each way for one bowl of ramen for a neighbor that you barely speak to just doesn’t add up.

You sit up abruptly. So fast that he flinches back slightly at the unanticipated movement. Your mouth opens slightly in quiet awe and your eyes have to be as wide as they can possibly get. By the blush on his cheeks that you can barely see, you’re informed of something you’d never suspected.

“Shit,” he mumbles, “This isn’t how I wanted it to go.”

And it’s all clicking now.

Slowly, the past seven years are seen through a different lens. He was always in your peripheral because he was looking for you too. But no matter how much you wish it, you don’t want to assume.

So in the most quiet voice you’ve ever spoken you whisper, “Armin do you���like me?”

He laughs; like full on laughs. He laughs so hard you suck your teeth in annoyance and shake your head in slight disappointment. He finally calms down and offers the most genuine smile you’ve ever seen grace a human being.

“Is that not obvious?”

Your jaw gapes in surprise. All this time the person you’ve been pining after wanted you too? Shock is the first emotion, then comes confusion and finally there’s anger.

You sigh. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

He rubs his lips together in quiet consternation. “Why didn’t you?”

The small smile that tugs at your lips is proof that this is already having a toe curling, stomach lurching effect on you.

With a smile that touches your very marrow, you whisper, “All this time?”

He simply nods, grin stretching his face and echoes your sentiment. “Yeah, all this time.”

And because you wanna put up a fight and for your own curiosity you ask, “What did you order me?”

At the same time he inquires, “Can I kiss you?” Your nod is almost immediate. His movements are the same and your eyes flutter closed with the first press of his lips onto yours. His mouth works seamlessly against your own and his hands begin to roam. His lips claim yours so fervently that you have no room to even breathe.

You grab his hair roughly as a way to ground the both of you and he groans desperately. Your toes curl from the sound alone and with a small whimper he’s murmuring against your lips. “Please.”

“Yes,” you answer the question that wasn’t even spoken.

His mouth slowly detaches from yours and his eyes flutter open and the blue is long gone. His eyes are now an almost iridescent shade of indigo. And you have to gulp to control what might come tumbling out of your mouth.

Before you utter a word, his mouth is back on you. This time it’s on your throat, then your neck, and he’s traveling further and oh…

“Wait, Arm-”

He doesn’t really give you much of an option. Your body is dragged down until your legs have no choice but to butterfly open for you to be comfortable.

“ I just wanna see you.”

And you slowly realize, that is the problem. That whole quiet and mysterious illusion he gave off was a cover that you’re beginning to see right through. But his voice is as slow and sweet as molasses when he reassures softly, “Just a peek, gorgeous.”

You can’t really refuse that, can you? So you gulp and your inexperience shows when your hands hover in the air awkwardly.

“Here,” he declares, and places your hand atop the mop of curls that is his hair. The ramen he brought is cast aside as he settles on the floor so he’s in a sort of crouch. Like a leopard waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting gazelle. The analogy, you realize, is fitting for the situation you come to understand when he slides your panties down and peeks up at you. Your eyes widen and snap shut almost violently and with a small chuckle he hums.

“That won’t do.” Your eyes blow right back open as soon as you feel his tongue lick its way inside you. A breath whooshes out of you in guilty pleasure and his eyes haven’t left yours yet.

He licks long and thick stripes everywhere and you almost cry in fascination.

You’re not a shy person.

Not at all, but you’re afraid that the sounds you’ll make will be less than sexy. So you stay quiet and that’s the only mistake you’ll make tonight.

He grabs your legs and throws them over his shoulders and that’s when the sounds force their way out of you. Every noise you make is either a gasp, cry, or whimper and the encouragement he gives makes you gush. The way he slurps at you should be embarrassing but you can’t find a breath to take let alone a care to give.

His name is on your lips and as your stomach starts to knot and your abdominal muscles cave in, you can’t help but smile.

Then it comes. Your toes curl so hard they crack and your mouth opens on a silent scream. Who knew? The boy next door was now a man who gave you the best—the first—orgasm of your life.

Your eyes blink slowly down at him and the moistness around his mouth should bother you, but you chuckle to yourself in delight.

Ever the gentlemen, he slides your panties back and places a kiss square on your clit and you twitch without giving your body permission to. He gets up and brushes off his khakis and you pretend not to see the very obvious stain that resides there. You fade out slowly after that, body becoming disconnected from the world and slowly fading into unconsciousness.

“Thank you,” you almost slur.

You see the whites of his teeth in response. “It was my pleasure.”

You nod, trying your best to hold onto this moment and right before you slip off into dreamland you murmur, “I love you.”

[coquettetoji]

{💌} BF ARMIN HCS

armin as your boyfriend hcs 😁 (fem reader)

— sigh you already know he’s the purest boy on earth so him as a boyfriend?? that’s your husband even in the first 2 weeks

— gets you “just because” flowers at least 2 times a week

— he gives you the dictionary thesaurus encyclopedia definition of PRINCESS TREATMENT.

— he will hold your hand everywhere, kneel down to take your shoes off/put them on for you, knows the side walk rule, sends you $$ without you even asking for any and oh my god he’s just so perfect.

— likes to do your hair for you regardless if your hair is pin straight or super curly, he will learn your exact routine in order to take care of it for you

— you’ll never stop hearing “why do you need to do that when i’m here?” nonstop. even for the stupidest things like getting the remote across the sofa. 😭

— his love language is words of affirmation and acts of service, he’s just always there to help you

— will trail behind you like a lost puppy at all times, literally follows you almost everywhere just in case you ever need him to do something for you

— his whole instagram feed is just you, you and you ** EXHIBIT A

— his follower ratio is also insane i’m saying like maybe 10 following (you and friends + fam) and then a good 60k followers

— most definitely has an “i ❤️ my girlfriend shirt” and wears it proudly with a pretty smile

— in public terms, he’s definitely touchy but not as touchy as when you guys are alone

— holds your hand, guides you with a hand on your lower back, has a hand around your waist, and wants you as close as possible to him in public but keeps it to a minimum

— when you guys are alone however, lord you can never get rid of him >>>

— will whine out a “where are you going? 🙁 i’ll come with you” at 3am when you need to pee.

— his favorite spots to kiss you are on your forehead, and yours cheeks, just because he likes to see your eyes go all dazed and happy when he does

— he does that hot thing where while he kisses you, you can feel the smile start to form on his lips

— his favorite pet names to call you are the typical domestic sweet and cute ones that just make your heart melt: baby, princess, love, pretty girl, calls you a good girl when praising you 😸

— your personal photographer everywhere, he knows to get all the angles and most of the pictures on your ig are taken by armin

— loves hugs, hugs are loved by him and just likes hugs, did i mention he loves hugs?

— does that thing where he hugs you from behind, slowly wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his chest esp when you guys are with friends or at parties

— he loves when you run your hands through his hair, he has the fluffiest softest hair ever definitely whimpers when it just feels way too good

— the most soft spoken boyfriend ever, he will never raise his voice at you even when he’s mad or upset (which is rare)

—takes you out on dates often and they’re always the best planned out dates ever (candle lit dinners, picnics

— will hold your heels in one hand after a date where your feet hurt while clutching your hand in the other

— whenever you start talking he sometimes just blanks out staring at you and how pretty you are which then just ends up with him blabbering “mhm’s” and “yeah yeah i get what you’re saying” while being completely zoned out staring at your face

— he always blushes when you show affection towards him first out of nowhere like when he’s talking to you about something and you just reach up and kiss his cheek, he’ll completely lose his train of thought.

— i’ve mentioned this before and i’ll mention it again, he’s a golden retriever boyfriend

— i mean he literally follows you around like a puppy already, he just acts like one in general whenever he’s around you

— he’s definitely a naturally quiet person around people he doesn’t know and kinda reserved but he just falls apart around you with a soft look of fondness in his blue eyes

— i just think of the childhood bestfriend trope when it comes to him or academic rivals

— he takes pride and hangs on to every single compliment you say to him. like throw one “you’re so handsome” at him and he’ll keep it like an id in his pocket

— like if eren said to him, “you’re ugly as fuck” armin will just shrug and smile saying “ _______ doesn’t think so 😁😁” just so smiley god he’s adorable

— in the domestic aspect of armin as your bf, he’s definitely super sweet and just soft with you

— breakfast in bed, cooking for you on the daily, + cleaning the dishes after too, taking care of you when sick

— helps you get dressed when you’re tired, does your hair for you, brushes your teeth for you while softly tilting your chin up between his thumb and pointer finger JUST UGH I NEED HIM SO BAD

— he will get on his knees for you any day of the week 😁 (for anything not just that guys)

— final conclusion and something i think he does that’s really cute

star moments of armin as your bf

★ keeps your hair tie on his left wrist in case you would ever need one

★ gets on his knees to take off your heels or shoes for you

★ never lets you open the car door by yourself and when helping you out or in he always kisses your forehead

★ took it upon himself to memorize every order of food or drink you have and your whole makeup collection to replace it if you ever ran out

★ cried happy tears when you told him you love him for the first time back (he defo told you before you did LMAO)

— overall just the sweetest boy and boyfriend ever 💞💞💞💕💕💓💓💗💗

[crazychaoticizzy]

Heyyy it’s my birthday today, can you write a fluff about Jean drawing his fiancé while she’s asleep? And she wakes up and he’s all shy about it LOVE UR WORK 🤗❤️❤️

While You Were Sleeping

a/n: of course i can. thank you so much and happy birthday!! i hope it was a good day filled with good things for you and that this next year is prosperous! this prompt is so cute too i was smiling so big writing all this.

NOW PLAYING: “While You Were Sleeping” | Laufey

JEAN KIRSTEIN X READER

CONTENT: fem!reader, domestic fluff, a lot of kissing

WORD COUNT: 1.4k

masterlist

AOT masterlist

Jean always woke up earlier than you. Armin anyways needed him for something, and he preferred to be ready by the time he or another soldier came knocking on his door requesting him. It tired him out often.

On the rare occasion that he knew he wasn’t going to be called (such as today. He’d requested the day off since it was your birthday), he didn’t like sleeping in. No, in the early mornings when the golden sun rays filtered through the curtains in just the right way, he enjoyed admiring you.

And sometimes, though it was more often than not, he would pull open the drawer of his nightstand and retrieve his sketchbook and pencil. He couldn’t help it—he knew you were pretty, but every time Jean realized just how gorgeous you were, he felt the need to capture the moment. He needed to preserve your image any time he thought you looked exceptionally stunning to him.

His favorite time to draw you was in these early mornings, when you were sleeping and he had time to spare. The first time he drew you like this, he had convinced himself it was creepy. But he had since come to love the peaceful look of your sleeping state. The crease between your eyebrows was smoothed out, and your face relaxed into the most organic version of yourself. Jean thought you were beautiful in the morning rays, snuggled under the blankets.

He never showed his drawings to anyone. Not even you knew he did it. It was something he kept to himself—small moments of time he froze in his own artistic way.

A faint smile graced his face as he moved the pencil across the paper. He’s drawn you so many times by now that he could do it with his eyes closed and still capture your likeness perfectly, but he liked looking at you. He liked following the lines of his pretty fiancée’s face. He liked admiring you in the early morning.

Jean didn’t notice when you started to wake up. He’d shrugged off the soft breaths and movement as you readjusting in your sleep, and got startled when he looked up to find that your eyes were open. You gave him a tired smile.

“Good morning,” you said, your voice laced with sleep. You noticed the pencil he held, and nodded towards it. “What’s that?”

Jean instinctively closed the book, placing both hands on top of it to prevent you from reaching forward and snatching it out of his hands. “It’s nothing,” he said.

You noticed the tip of his ears turn pink. That happened when he was hiding something, you’d noticed.

“If it’s nothing then why are you hiding it?” you teased. You readjusted in the bed so you were propped up, your weight resting against your arm. “Come one. What is it?”

“It’s nothing, my love.” He set the book somewhere behind him and leaned forward, planting a soft kiss on your lips.

You hummed against his mouth, a feeling of contentment washing over you. When you tried to pull away to say something, Jean chased your lips and kissed you again.

He wound up laying back down with you, his warm body pressed against your soft one beneath the blankets. He held you close by the waist with one hand, the other cupping the back of your neck so you kept kissing him.

You chuckled against his lips, pressing your hand against his chest to push him away. “Don’t distract me, you tease.”

“I’m not.” He grabbed hold of your hand and intertwined your fingers, pinning it above your head. He leaned down and kissed you again, this time placing soft pecks all across your face and neck. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he said against your skin.

You were smiling so widely your cheeks hurt. Jean had always been affectionate, but the early mornings when he stayed home were probably your favorite. Sometimes he would hold you against him and the two of you would lay with each other’s hair. Other days he would grab your hand and kiss each of your fingers individually, mumbling sweet words to you between each kiss.

You liked when he kissed you like he was now, though. It made you all giddy and smiley. It was probably your favorite way to wake up.

Jean hovered above you, his gaze flitting over all the details of your face. There was a soft smile pulling at his lips, but he leaned forward to give you one last kiss before you could say anything about his love struck gaze.

“Happy birthday, baby,” he whispered against your mouth.

You thanked him and smiled, lifting a hand to thread your fingers through his hair. “Y’know what I want for my birthday?”

“Hm?”

You lifted your head so your lips brushed against his ear. “For you to show me what’s in your notebook.”

Jean let out an amused breath. “No.”

You groaned, dramatically pushing him off you and propping yourself up on your arm. “Why not?”

“It’s private.”

You scoffed. “Please. We’re getting married in two months and you have the audacity to say it’s private?”

He shrugged, reaching for your hand. “I don’t make the rules.”

“You’re terrible. Terrible and stubborn.”

He laughed, lifting your hand to kiss your knuckles. “You love me.”

“I shouldn’t. Not when you keep secrets from me.”

“Are you upset because I’m not giving you what you want for once?”

You scoffed again. “No.”

“You totally are.”

“You’re delusional and full of it.”

“Such accusations.” Jean clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth before he sits up, his hands gliding up your arm. “All I’m trying to do is show you my love.”

“You’re keeping secrets.” You pull your arm away from his, but instead Jean practically lifts you from the bed and maneuvers off. He starts walking toward the bathroom as you let out an exasperated sigh, hanging your head back. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“So lucky.”

You rolled your eyes as he perched you atop the counter and watched as he switched on the shower. As you waited for him to strip you down and pull you into the shower, you tried to devise a way to see what was in that notebook.

You would see it if it was the last thing you did in your lifetime.

So, while Jean was busy brushing mousse through his hair and styling it so it dried correctly, you snuck out of the bathroom. The plain black notebook was still on his nightstand, the pencil neatly placed on top of it. You set the pencil to the side and opened it, softly gasping at the sight of the first sketch.

It was of you reading a book. Jean had drawn a soft smile on your face and added a note in the margins. Isn’t she so beautiful? it said.

On the next page, your back was turned as you cooked. Your hair was tied out of your face and the sleeves of Jean’s hoodie were pulled up and above your elbows. I’m going to marry her was written to the left of the drawing.

You flipped a couple more pages, concluding that the notebook was made up exclusively of you. You paused at the sight of one in particular—the only one you were aware of before your fiancé drew it. It was the only time you had ever posed for him, the night he proposed. You were holding up the heart shaped doily that had been placed between your teacup at the fancy restaurant, the most notable thing in the illustration being the ring on your finger.

She said yes!

When Jean came up behind you, he snatched the boom out of your hands and snapped it shut, holding it out of your reach.

“Nosey,” he said. “You’re so annoying. What if this was my diary?”

You laughed, even more when he placed his hand over your face and pushed you to sit on the bed as he hid the notebook away. “It basically is.”

Jean flushed as he sat beside you, feigning an upset expression. Yet he held onto your thigh. No matter how upset he actually might have been, he always needed to touch you.

You leaned forward, a cheeky smile on your lips as your lips brushed against his ear.

“You are so down bad,” you teased, your voice coming out as a whisper.

“Shut up.”

You laughed and kissed his cheek, knowing that no matter how often you teased him for loving you so much, you returned those feelings with the same intensity.

i had so much fun writing this. i tried getting it out on your birthday so you could enjoy it as a present! thank you so much for requesting and happy birthday again 💜

TAGGING: if you’d like to be notified any time i write for Jean comment or DM to let me know!

[blaxcunicorn]

The King of the Jungle

Length: 13k

Content: fem!reader, angst, smut, character death

Authors note: This is my newest Eren to my collection. This is Tarzan!Eren and Jane!Reader. Let me know what yall think?

Your nanny, Avery, carefully fastened the last button of your blouse before stepping back to admire her work. “There,” she said, smoothing out the fabric. “You’re all set for your journey.” Today was the day. You and your best friend, Armin, were setting sail for Africa. Armin, an esteemed archaeologist with a PhD, had been eager to go on this expedition to further his studies, while you, an animal researcher, were just as interested in observing and documenting the wildlife. Both of you came from upper-class English families, and in the strict, polished world of the Victorian era, your decision to journey into the unknown had raised more than a few eyebrows. Avery cupped your face gently, pressing a warm kiss to your cheek. “Be safe, my dear,” she murmured.

She had been like a mother to you ever since your parents’ tragic plane crash. The thought of leaving her behind tugged at your heart, but she would be waiting for you when you returned, just as she always had. At the bustling port, you stood on the wooden dock, waving at the familiar figures of Avery, Hitch, and Marlow. Hitch had originally intended to accompany you and Armin as your protector, believing that the two of you would be lost without her, but fate had other plans.

Two years into her marriage with Marlow, an unplanned pregnancy had changed everything. “I hope you’ll be back before the baby arrives!” Hitch called out, cupping her hands around her mouth. Marlow smirked, crossing his arms. “You two better be back in time, or I’ll come down there myself and hunt you both down.” You and Armin laughed at the playful threat, waving until the three of them disappeared into the crowd.

The ship’s interior was impressive, adorned with dark mahogany panels and gold accents, filled with the distant sounds of conversation and music. You and Armin had separate rooms but had decided to meet for a drink before calling it a night. As you stepped out of your cabin, you found Armin already waiting for you. With a smile, you linked arms and headed toward the bar together.

Upon entering, a soft, angelic voice floated through the air, accompanied by the gentle melody of a piano. At the center of the room, on a small stage illuminated by warm light, stood a petite blonde woman, her voice captivating the entire audience. Most tables were already occupied, but near the front, you noticed a brunette with freckles, her eyes glued to the singer as if under a spell. Armin, ever the gentleman, approached her with courtesy. “Excuse me, would it be alright if we joined you?”

The woman glanced at both of you before shrugging. “Suit yourselves.” As you settled into your seats, she leaned back and took a sip of her drink. “Name’s Ymir.” Armin smiled. “I’m Armin, and this is my friend.” He gestured toward you as you introduced yourself. “I’ll go grab our drinks,” Armin said, excusing himself to head to the bar.

A few minutes later, he returned, not with two glasses, but with a box filled with ice, white wine, and champagne. You raised an eyebrow. “What’s the occasion?” Armin beamed. “To celebrate our journey and our achievements!” You couldn’t argue with that. As the three of you toasted, you shared stories about your expedition with Ymir. She listened with mild interest before lazily pointing her glass toward the singer. “I’m just here to support my wife’s dream.” Your gaze followed her gesture. “Historia?” Ymir nodded. “She’s always wanted to sing for a crowd like this. So, here we are,” she said proudly.

Before the conversation could go any further, a familiar presence interrupted the table. Floch and his crew slid into the empty seats next to you without so much as a greeting. Ymir’s face immediately soured. “Oh, great,” she muttered quietly as Floch casually grabbed the bottle of champagne and poured himself a drink. His men quickly followed suit, helping themselves to the remaining contents. Armin shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable, but managed to speak politely. “They’re with us,” he said. “Floch is acting as our bodyguard for this trip.”

Ymir raised an eyebrow. “Him?” She scoffed, glancing at you. “And you trust a guy like that to protect you?” Floch, already halfway through his drink, smirked. “Oh, come on, sweetheart.” He draped an arm around Armin, causing the smaller man to tense up. “I have to look after my damsel, after all.” His sharp gaze flicked toward you. You rolled your eyes, cutting him off before he could say more.

“That’s enough for tonight.” You set your glass down and stood up. “We need to be in top shape for our arrival tomorrow.” Armin nodded in agreement, sensing the rising tension at the table. Ymir simply snorted, unimpressed. As you turned to leave, you felt Floch’s gaze linger on you, but you chose to ignore it.

The soft golden glow of the morning sun filtered through your cabin window, gently rousing you from sleep. The rhythmic sway of the ship felt familiar now, but today was different; you were filled with excitement. You were finally here. Dressing with care, you slipped into a long white and pink dress, the fabric flowing gracefully over your figure. The large pink bustle added volume to your silhouette, while a crisp white cravat sat neatly at your collar. You pulled on your pristine white gloves, fastening the buttons with precision before stepping into your boots, which were white with black accents on the soles, toes, and heels, reminiscent of Mary Janes. Layers of a white petticoat rustled beneath your skirt, and the frilly lace of knee-length pantalettes peeked through just slightly as you moved. Your hair, neatly braided, was twisted into a bun, and you slicked down your baby hairs to ensure no stray strands would escape in the jungle heat.

As you stepped onto the deck, the fresh, salty breeze greeted you, carrying the scent of the approaching shore. Armin stood near the railing, gazing out at the endless expanse of blue, his hands resting on the polished wood. His blond hair ruffled slightly in the breeze, and there was a sparkle in his eyes, filled with excitement. You approached quietly, your boots clicking softly against the deck. “Already lost in thought, Armin?” He turned to you with a wide smile. “How could I not be? Just look at it,” he gestured toward the distant shoreline. “A land untouched, filled with history, waiting to be discovered.” His voice was full of awe. You stepped beside him, your gloved hands resting on the railing as well. “I can’t believe we’re finally here,” you murmured, taking in the sight of the lush jungle beyond the misty horizon. Yet, a part of you felt a pang of longing. “I just wish Hitch were here with us.” Armin nodded, his smile softening. “Me too. She would’ve loved this adventure. And, well, she’d probably be keeping Floch in check.”

You chuckled. “That alone would be worth having her here.” Before Armin could respond, a booming voice echoed across the deck. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have arrived!” The captain's announcement sent a rush of adrenaline through you. Your eyes met Armin’s, and without another word, the two of you dashed toward the ship’s edge, eager to catch the first glimpse of the land awaiting you. The moment you stepped off the ship, the world around you transformed.

The humid air clung to your skin, and the scent of rich earth, salt, and foliage filled your lungs. The cries of distant birds and the rustling of unseen creatures in the dense jungle played like a melody welcoming you to its depths. You took a deep breath, savoring the beauty of the jungle. The vibrant greens of the towering trees stretched endlessly, their leaves rustling softly under the warm breeze. The sound of waves crashing against the shore blended with the distant calls of hidden animals. You took a few careful steps along the soft sand, your boots sinking slightly into the earth. It felt surreal. Behind you, the familiar voices of Floch and his men interrupted the moment. You turned to see them carrying your trunks and supplies, already beginning to set up the campsite.

Floch, flashed a smirk as he dropped a crate onto the sand. “Don’t just stand there gawking. You’re gonna see plenty of jungle soon enough.” You rolled your eyes but chose not to respond. Instead, you exchanged a look with Armin, knowing your adventure had just begun. The jungle air was thick and warm, filled with the scent of damp earth and blooming flora. As you walked alongside Armin, your boots sank softly into the leaf-covered ground, the muffled sounds of distant wildlife surrounding you.

Your steps faltered as your foot brushed against a tangle of dried leaves and branches. Armin turned to you, curiosity lighting up his face, just as you took another step and felt the soft, woven texture beneath your sole. “A nest,” you whispered. Armin crouched beside you, adjusting his glasses as he examined the intricate structure. His eyes sparkled with fascination. “And not just one; there are more.” He gestured ahead, and sure enough, scattered within the thick brush were several similar nests, each one carefully crafted. “This confirms it,” you murmured, filled with awe. “They live in family groups.” Armin nodded excitedly, already scribbling notes in his journal. “This is remarkable. Proof of complex social behavior.” You smiled at his enthusiasm, but before you could respond, a rustling in the trees caught your attention.

You turned just in time to spot a baby baboon, a tiny figure hopping between the branches. Your heart melted at the sight of its large, curious eyes. Without hesitation, you pulled out your sketchbook, eager to capture the moment. Settling onto a fallen log, you carefully traced the outline of the small animal, detailing the soft curve of its face and the playful glint in its gaze. But before you could finish, a blur of movement shot forward.

“Hey!” The baby baboon snatched the sketchbook from your hands, clutching it tightly as it leapt away. Your mouth fell open in disbelief before you ran. “Oh no, you don’t!” Ignoring Armin’s amused chuckle, you chased after the mischievous creature, ducking beneath low-hanging vines and leaping over fallen branches.

Your heart raced, a mix of excitement and frustration coursing through you. Unbeknownst to you, a pair of green eyes followed your every move, watching silently from the shadows. The baboon skittered up a tree, flipping through the pages until it found its own unfinished portrait. It let out a delighted chatter and clutched the book tighter.

You reached up, frustrated. “That’s mine, you little—” With a quick movement, you managed to grab it back. The baby baboon’s joy turned to despair as it let out a loud, mournful wail. The sound sent a shiver down your spine. Slowly, you turned. Emerging from the underbrush was a troop of baboons, their dark eyes fixed on you with rage. Their bodies tensed, muscles coiled like springs, ready to pounce. Your breath caught in your throat.

Then, they charged. You barely had time to react before strong arms grabbed you. The world tilted as you were suddenly lifted off the ground, the force of the movement knocking the breath from your lungs. Wind whipped past your face as you soared, vines slapped against your skin. Your heart raced, the ground becoming a blur beneath you. A sharp tug on your leg made you gasp as a baboon clung to your foot. Panic surged through you as you kicked frantically, your boot slipping off and falling to the jungle floor below.

The baboon let go, screeching as it tumbled down with it. Vines snapped and rustled around you as you and your mysterious rescuer swung higher until finally, you landed. Dizzy and breathless, you were perched on a thick tree branch, your arms instinctively gripping the body beside you. It was then that you looked up.

The man standing before you was unlike anyone you had ever encountered. Bare-chested, his sun-kissed skin was marked with faint scars, and his muscles were sculpted from years of survival. His brown hair flowed smoothly just above his shoulders, and his green eyes studied you with an unfiltered fascination. He was breathtaking. He spoke—not in words, but in soft, low clicks and guttural sounds.

Your confusion deepened as he crouched slightly, still holding you as if uncertain whether to let go. You barely noticed the baby baboon and its sibling landing beside you, nor did you react when the man made a few strange noises toward them. To your complete astonishment, the baboons chattered back. Then, before you could stop him, he took the sketchbook from your hands and gently returned the unfinished drawing to the little creature.

Your mouth fell open in disbelief. “You—” You shook your head, still trying to process what had just happened. The man, however, was no longer focused on the baboons. He was focused on you. He reached out hesitantly, his rough fingers hovering near your face, curiosity flickering in his gaze. Slowly, tentatively, he brushed his fingertips over the back of your hand. A sharp breath escaped your lips. The contact sent a shiver down your spine,not from fear but something else entirely. The man’s brow furrowed as he turned his hand, pressing his palm against yours. He seemed… amazed. As if he had never seen another like him before. As if he had never felt another human’s touch. Your chest tightened.

“Y-You…” you attempted to speak, but the words got stuck in your throat. The man tilted his head and pointed to himself. “Eren.” His voice was deep and rough, as if language was unfamiliar on his tongue. You swallowed hard and slowly said your own name. Eren blinked, his lips forming the shape of the word, though it took him a few tries to get it right.

A small smile crept onto his face as he repeated it, his voice softer this time. Then, as if pulled by an unseen force, Eren slowly lifted his hand toward yours, hesitating for just a moment before reaching out further. You inhaled sharply as his fingers brushed against yours. His touch was rough yet surprisingly gentle, and his hand felt warm. A strange sensation bubbled up in your chest. Eren seemed affected too. His breathing slowed, and his eyes were fixed on where your hands met, as if he wanted to remember the feeling of your skin. He slid his fingers against yours, exploring this new sensation.

The world around you felt like it had paused, the sounds of the jungle fading into the background. For a brief moment, it was just the two of you.

But then— A loud, sharp bang shattered the moment. A gunshot. You jolted, your eyes widening. In the distance, a flock of birds burst from the treetops, their frantic cries echoing through the jungle. Another shot rang out.

“Floch,” you whispered. Eren stiffened. His head snapped toward the sound, his expression darkening as he let out a deep, guttural growl, mimicking the noise of the gunshot. You looked at him, desperation in your eyes. “Take me back. Please.” He turned back to you, his gaze lingering for a moment longer, then without a word, he grabbed your hand and leapt. The world blurred again as he swung through the trees, carrying you effortlessly through the jungle.

The moment your feet hit solid ground, the jungle air enveloped you with the rich scent of damp earth and fresh foliage. But all your attention was on him—the wild man who had just carried you through the treetops with an effortless grace that seemed impossible. Your heart raced from the adrenaline. He had saved you. He had protected you. Now, standing before you with those intense green eyes, he looked at you as if he were trying to understand you just as much as you were trying to understand him.

A rustling in the trees drew your attention. You turned your head just in time to see figures emerging from the thick jungle, large, powerful forms moving through the underbrush. Gorillas. They were watching, cautious and calculating, their dark eyes fixed on Eren. Among them, two stood out: a massive silverback, exuding authority, and a gentle yet firm-looking female. They didn’t acknowledge you, their focus was solely on Eren.

The male grunted, his stance rigid with dominance. The female, softer in her demeanor, placed a hand on Eren’s shoulder, urging him to step back. Eren hesitated for a moment, his gaze darting between you and the gorillas, but ultimately, he complied. And just like that, he was gone. You released a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. The encounter had lasted only moments, yet it felt like you had stumbled upon something truly remarkable. A familiar voice snapped you back to reality.

“(Y/N)!” You turned to see Armin and Floch rushing toward you, their faces etched with concern. “We’ve been searching everywhere for you,” Armin said, visibly relieved. Floch, however, wore a scowl as he scanned the surrounding jungle. “What the hell happened? You vanished, and now you look like you’ve seen a damn ghost.” You took a steadying breath, still in a daze. “I saw them,” you whispered, barely able to contain your excitement. “The gorillas. A whole group of them.” Armin’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You did?”

You nodded, but your gaze wandered to the trees where Eren had disappeared. “And I met someone… He’s not like them, but he’s not like us either. He saved me.” Floch crossed his arms. “What do you mean, ‘not like them’?”

“He’s human,” you replied.

“But he moves like them, lives like them. He doesn’t speak, but he understands things.” Floch scoffed. “A wild man? Come on, you’re telling me you were saved by some half-naked jungle freak?” Your brows furrowed, irritated by his dismissive tone.

“I’m telling you what I saw, Floch. And I believe we can learn from him about the gorillas, about the jungle. He could be the key to understanding everything we came here for.” Armin looked thoughtful. “If he’s been living among them, he might have insights we could never get otherwise.” His enthusiasm grew as he spoke.

“(Y/N), if we could find him again, we could document his behavior. We could learn so much.” Floch, however, remained unconvinced, but for now, he didn’t argue further.

The next morning, you sat at the camp’s makeshift blackboard, charcoal in hand, carefully sketching what you remembered of Eren, his long hair, his strong features, those striking green eyes. Armin watched as you worked, his curiosity evident. “You’re fascinated by him,” he observed. You paused, your fingers hovering over the board before adding the final strokes. “Aren’t you?” Armin chuckled.

“Oh, I am. But I think you’re fascinated in more ways than one.” Before you could respond, a sudden rustling made you turn. Eren. He stood just outside the camp, watching with quiet curiosity. Your breath hitched slightly; he had found his way back. Floch, however, looked unimpressed. “Well, well. Look who decided to show up.” Eren’s eyes flickered between you and the board. His gaze landed on the drawing of himself, and you saw that he recognised his face.

Floch picked up a piece of charcoal and grinned. “If he’s really lived with gorillas, let’s see if he knows what they are.” He quickly sketched a rough outline of a gorilla on the board and pointed at it. “See this, jungle boy? Gorilla.” Eren stared at the drawing, then at Floch, his face expressionless. Armin sighed.

“Floch, I don’t think it works that way.” But Eren had lost interest. Instead, he was watching Armin, noticing how he spoke to you, how he stood next to you, and how the two of you seemed to connect effortlessly. A bond. If he wanted to stay, if he wanted to be closer to you, he needed Armin’s acceptance. Without a second thought, Eren turned and vanished into the jungle. Floch huffed, muttering about him running off again, but you sensed he wouldn’t be gone long.

Minutes later, he came back, holding something in his hands. A large, smooth seashell, its interior shimmering with pearlescent blues and purples. He walked right up to Armin and placed it in his hands. Armin blinked in surprise. “For me?” Eren nodded once. Floch scoffed. “Oh great, now he’s bribing us.” But Armin, captivated, turned the shell over in his hands. “This is amazing,” he murmured, then looked at Eren with a genuine smile. “Thank you.” He quickly grabbed his notebook and jotted something down. “This might be an attempt at social bonding, offering gifts to those he sees as important.”

Eren watched him write, intrigued. His sharp eyes flicked to you, searching for your approval. You smiled. “That was really kind of you.” He relaxed at your words, but the moment was broken when a gentle breeze swept through the camp, causing the pages of Armin’s notebook to flutter. Eren, who had been looking at one of the books you’d given him, growled in frustration as his shoulder-length hair fell forward, obstructing his view. He pushed it back, only for it to fall again.

You couldn't help but laugh a little. "Here," you said gently, moving a bit closer. Eren froze as you lifted your hands to his thick hair. It felt soft against your fingers as you began to untangle it in spots. He stayed quiet, observing you intently, letting you do your thing. You wove the strands together, securing them until his hair was neatly pulled back from his face.

Satisfied, you let your hands drop and turned him toward the small mirror in camp. “See?” Eren leaned in, studying his reflection for a long moment. Then, to your surprise, a small, pleased smile spread across his lips. Something in your chest tightened. With his hair pulled back, his features were fully visible, the sharp angles of his jaw, the intensity of his emerald eyes, and the way the sunlight danced on his tanned skin.

He was beautiful.

You swallowed, taken aback. Eren caught your gaze in the mirror, curiosity flickering in his expression. He tilted his head slightly, almost as if trying to decipher your thoughts. You quickly looked away, clearing your throat. “Now you won’t have to keep pushing it back.” He nodded once, still smiling as he turned back to the book. Armin observed the entire exchange, quietly jotting something down in his notebook. Floch, meanwhile, glanced between you and Eren, scowling at himself. And just like that, the lessons continued.

Over the next few days, you and Armin taught him about human life. You showed him letters, words, and gestures. He picked it up quickly, his intelligence shining through. He watched everything you did, mimicking your movements with careful precision. At times, you caught him staring at you, not just with curiosity, but with something deeper. Eren was learning. But more than that, he was changing.

Floch, however, grew increasingly frustrated. It wasn’t just Eren’s presence, it was the way you looked at him, the way he looked at you. One evening, as the three of you sat near the camp, Floch reached for your shoulder to get your attention.

Eren’s hand shot out quickly, grabbing Floch’s wrist in a vice-like grip. Floch winced.

Armin, ever the observer, noted it immediately. “He’s territorial,” he murmured, scribbling in his notebook. “I think he sees (Y/N) as his.”

Floch yanked his arm away, clearly irritated. “Great. A jealous wild man.” The tension between them simmered, but you didn’t notice anything.

You felt the inevitable call of nature. The camp, despite its advancements, lacked proper facilities, forcing you to venture into the jungle to relieve yourself. With a sigh, you grabbed a lantern and started walking toward the tree line.

Floch, who had been watching from where he lounged by the fire, raised an eyebrow. “And where do you think you’re going, princess?” You shot him a look. “To take a walk.” Floch smirked. “Right. Just be careful. We wouldn’t want the jungle to swallow you up.” Armin, who had been sketching in his notebook, glanced up. “Do you want me to go with you?”

You shook your head. “No need, I won’t go far.” As you slipped into the foliage, Eren was unaware that he was tracking your movements. He had been lingering at the edge of the camp, silently observing as you walked away. The moment you were out of earshot, Eren stepped forward, ready to follow. But Floch blocked him, pressing a hand against Eren’s chest. “Whoa there, monkey boy,” Floch smirked, nodding toward the trees. “Where do you think you’re going?” Eren frowned, glancing in the direction you had taken. Floch laughed.

“You can’t follow a lady to the toilet, dumbass.” Eren’s face remained blank, clearly confused. Floch sighed, shaking his head. “What, you’ve never learned basic decency? A woman’s gotta—” Before he could finish, Eren pushed him back, not too hard, but enough to make Floch stumble.

“The hell?” Floch scowled, stepping forward as if to retaliate, but Armin quickly intervened, placing a hand on Floch’s arm. “Wait,” Armin said thoughtfully, already flipping to a blank page in his notebook. “This might not be what you think.” Floch scoffed. “Oh, enlighten me, Professor.” Armin tapped his chin, considering. “In many animal species, relieving oneself is a vulnerable moment. It’s possible that Eren sees her as… well, part of his group.” He glanced at Eren. “Or even his chosen mate.”

Floch’s mouth dropped open before he burst out laughing. “Oh, that’s rich. So, what you’re saying is jungle boy is playing bodyguard because he thinks she’s his girl?” Armin shrugged. “It would make sense. If he’s been raised by gorillas, then his instincts would be based on their social structure. And for many primates, protecting a mate is instinctual.” Floch made a disgusted noise. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever—” He paused, glancing at Eren, who was still staring in the direction you had gone. “…Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Unaware of the conversation taking place back at camp, you found a quiet spot behind a thick tree, set down your lantern, and took a moment to relieve yourself. The jungle air was heavy and humid, with the distant sounds of birds and insects creating a constant backdrop around you. As you finished and adjusted your clothing, a strange tingling sensation crept up your spine, as if someone were watching you. You turned quickly, scanning the dense foliage, but the jungle appeared as still as ever.

Then, you spotted him. Sitting on a rock just a few feet away, Eren had his elbows resting on his knees, observing you in silence. Your breath caught in your throat.

“Eren?!” He didn’t respond to your surprise, merely tilting his head, his green eyes fixed on you. You stepped forward, narrowing your gaze at him. “Were you… following me?” Still, he remained silent. His expression was calm, as if this was completely normal. You huffed and brushed past him. “I can find my way back to camp, you know. I remember the path.” Eren didn’t budge from his spot. He simply continued to watch as you moved back toward the lantern.

Confused by his presence, you shook your head and started back to the camp, muttering under your breath. You had barely taken a few steps when you heard rustling behind you. He was following you. You turned around, catching a glimpse of him gliding effortlessly through the jungle, always a few paces behind. “Eren,” you sighed, feeling exasperated. “I don’t need help getting back.” Once more, he didn’t reply. You frowned. He didn’t seem to be trying to lead you, nor did he attempt to engage beyond staying close. His movements were casual yet deliberate, as if he were keeping watch. A thought crossed your mind. “…You’re not… protecting me, are you?”

Eren blinked, his brows furrowing slightly as if the question itself was strange. But he still didn’t respond. You sighed, shaking your head as you continued walking. “I don’t need protection from the trees, you know.” Still, Eren trailed behind, his silent presence feeling odd yet somehow reassuring. Armin looked up from his notebook back at camp, spotting you first.

“You took a while—” He paused, his gaze shifting behind you. “Oh.” Floch followed Armin’s line of sight, then groaned. “You’re kidding me.” “What?” you asked, confused. Floch crossed his arms, shooting Eren a look. “Monkey boy actually followed you?” You blinked, glancing at Eren before looking back at Floch. “I—well, I didn’t notice him until I was done, but… I think so?” Floch scoffed. “Yeah, that’s not weird at all.” Armin, on the other hand, was already scribbling notes.

“Actually… that confirms my theory. He sees her as part of his troop.” Floch rolled his eyes. “God, Armin, stop making it weird.” Armin ignored him, looking at you instead. “Did he do anything aggressive? Try to stop you?” You shook your head. “No. He just… sat there. And then followed me back.” Armin hummed, clearly fascinated. “I think he just wanted to make sure you were safe.”

Despite his earlier irritation, Floch stole a glance at Eren and muttered, “Huh. So monkey boy’s a guard dog now.” You turned back to Eren, who had settled near the fire, still watching you. Whatever his reasons, one thing was clear. Eren wasn’t just observing anymore. He was staying close.

Eren’s newfound attachment didn’t go unnoticed. Before the sun had even fully risen, he would slip away from his family each morning and disappear into the jungle. Carla had begun to notice his absences, her worry growing each day.

Mikasa had also sensed a change in him. He seemed more distracted, more restless. His attention was no longer on the jungle or the life he had always known; it was focused on something or rather, someone else. And he kept that secret well. With each stolen moment and every interaction, Eren found himself drawn to you in ways he couldn’t fully comprehend. He had never encountered anyone like you, never met someone who evoked this pull, this instinct that transcended mere survival and simple curiosity.

It was more than just fascination.

It was longing.

Yet, despite his growing feelings, there was one thing he was determined not to do. He would not lead you or the others to the gorilla nest. If Grisha ever laid eyes on you, Eren wasn’t sure what might happen. For the first time in his life, he felt fear.

A gentle nudge at your shoulder roused you from your sleep. Your eyelids fluttered open, adjusting to the darkness of the tent, and you found Eren crouched beside you, his green eyes softly glowing in the moonlight. “Eren?” you murmured groggily, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. He didn’t respond verbally; instead, he reached out, his calloused fingers brushing against your wrist, silently urging you to follow.

You glanced around the dimly lit camp. Armin and Floch were still fast asleep, their steady breathing filling the space. The jungle beyond was alive with the distant hum of cicadas and the occasional hoot of an owl. Carefully, you slipped out from under the thin blanket, shivering slightly as the cool night air met your skin. You quickly pulled on a white singlet and a brown skirt before stepping outside.

The moment your feet touched the damp earth, Eren crouched lower, motioning for you to climb onto his back. You hesitated for a moment, but his silent insistence left no room for refusal. With a small huff, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and let him lift you effortlessly. His warmth seeped through the fabric of your clothes as he carried you deeper into the jungle.

Eren climbed the trees, his bare feet pressing into the rough bark as he climbed higher and higher. When he finally stopped, you gasped.

The view was breathtaking.

The jungle stretched endlessly below, bathed in the silver moonlight. The stars were dazzling, clearer than you had ever seen them before, scattered across the sky like endless constellations.

You felt Eren watching you. When you turned to him, you found a small, satisfied smile tugging at his lips. It was the kind of smile that told you he was happy simply because you were happy.

Then, breaking the silence, Eren pointed toward a thick vine hanging nearby. “Swing.”

Your brows furrowed. “Swing?”

“Swing?” He nodded and stepped forward. He grabbed the vine with practised ease and launched himself into the air. He glided effortlessly from one vine to another. The wind tousled his hair, and he appeared almost divine in the moonlight. When he landed back beside you, he looked at you expectantly.

“You try.” You swallowed, feeling a wave of nerves. “Eren, I don’t know if—” He tilted his head slightly, as if he couldn’t grasp your hesitation. Then, sensing your unease, he simply nodded toward the vines. You bit your lip. A part of you hesitated, but another part, the one that had begun to trust him, that part that felt free in his presence urged you to take the leap.

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed the vine and pushed off. For a moment, your heart raced in your throat. The wind rushed past your ears, and your body felt weightless as you swung through the trees. Then you landed on solid ground, your feet finding a sturdy branch beside Eren, and laughter bubbled up from your chest.

“That was… fun,” you gasped, adrenaline still coursing through your veins. Eren’s lips curled into a smile, amused by your excitement. Seeing you smile, seeing you enjoy something he had cherished his whole life, filled him with warmth. But he wasn’t finished yet. This time, he brought over two longer vines, their ends disappearing into the darkness below. You eyed them warily, shaking your head. “Eren, that’s too far.” Eren stepped closer, placing a reassuring hand on your arm. “Together.” You blinked.

He raised his fingers, counting slowly, “One… two… three.” Just like you had taught him. Before you could think too much about it, the two of you jumped into the air. The rush was incredible. You laughed as you swung, and to your surprise, Eren was laughing too. He moved effortlessly around you, playfully weaving through the vines. In the midst of it all, your vines drifted closer, twisting slightly. And suddenly, he was right in front of you. Eren stopped laughing.

Time seemed to slow as he looked at you, his deep green eyes taking in every detail. He had always watched you with curiosity and fascination, but this felt different. His expression was softer now, more intense. His gaze traced your features, admiration shining in his eyes as he absorbed how the moonlight illuminated your melanated skin, making it glow against the night. You felt warmth spread across your skin under his gaze.

Overwhelmed, you turned your head slightly, breaking the connection. But Eren wasn’t finished looking at you. His rough fingers gently tilted your chin back toward him, urging you to meet his gaze again. His other hand rested on the small of your back, steadying you mid-air. His touch was warm. Your heart raced. Slowly, you let go of the vine and wrapped your arms around his neck instead.

The moment your fingers brushed the nape of his neck, his grip on you tightened just a bit. His body was firm and strong, yet he held you gently. Your eyes met again, and for the first time in a long while, you didn’t feel so alone. Your gaze flickered downward, lingering on his lips. They were slightly parted, his breath warm against your skin. You found yourself wondering what it would be like to kiss him.

Before you could delve deeper into that thought, the vines began to slow down. Eren adjusted his grip on you as he landed gracefully on a sturdy tree branch. You stumbled a bit, but he was right there, steadying you effortlessly. You let out a breathless laugh, leaning your back against the trunk of the tree.

“That was… incredible.” Eren sat down across from you, legs crossed. “Happy?” You smiled. “Very.” His lips curled into a slight smile. “Good.” A comfortable silence enveloped you both as you reached out simultaneously. Your hands brushed together just like the first time you met. The warmth of his palm against yours sent a delightful flutter through your chest. You were certain your face was flushed, but when you looked up, you could have sworn you saw a faint blush on his cheeks as well.

Then, in a surprising move, he leaned in and kissed your hand. Your gasp made him pause, and he looked at you nervousnessly, worried he had overstepped. You could sense that your reaction had thrown him off a bit. Eren apologized, but you silenced him with a gentle kiss. You pulled back to gauge his reaction. He raised his hand to your face, his thumb brushing over your lips. You sat there, in awe of both his actions and your own.

Searching Eren’s face for his thoughts, you found only a soft smile and warm green eyes. He began to caress your face with his fingers. Eren feared that you might pull away and leave him if he pressed too hard. He wanted you to stay with him forever. Your faces were now just inches apart. Eren felt a strange sensation beneath his loincloth. He held your cheek in one hand, gazing at you with half-lidded eyes. You took a deep breath, grasped his wrist, and placed your other hand on Eren’s neck, closing the distance between you. As your lips met, the desire to be closer intensified.

You began to nip at Eren’s underlip, signalling to him to open his mouth. Slipping your tongue in once his lips parted. As the kiss grew more heated, Eren gripped tightly at your waist with one hand and played with your hair with another while you pressed your hands at his muscled chest. 

You felt your arousal pool from below, and Eren felt his dick rise. You both pulled away for air as you stared at each other in shock at what you had just experienced. A string of salvia connected you to him. Eren wanted more, and this time he was the one who pulled you into a kiss. Your arousal was distracting, and you needed relief, so you removed your skirt and your undergarment soaked in your juices.

 Eren was taken aback by your actions, but he wanted to see more of you. He slowly lifted your tank top of you, exposing your breasts. Eren studied your body, he had never seen anything so beautiful. He wanted to touch but hesitated, you could tell. You gently take his hand and guide them to your left breast. Eren was mesmerised and their softness. He was nibbling and playing with your nipples. 

Your sweet moans were pleasing for him to hear, he wanted to hear more, feel more. Eren looked at you, he wanted you to show him how to please you more. You understood and guided his head to your breast to invite him to have a taste. Eren took the invite and sucked on your right nipple while massaging your left one. You arch your back to make him suck more, and h,e in response, sucks harder, causing you to moan higher, which boosts his confidence. Eren releases your nipple with a pop and rises up to kiss you.

The kiss was sloppy and needy, your hands reached up to his cheeks to cup them as he licked your lower lip, causing you to open your mouth and let his tongue fill both your mouths with a mixture of soft moans and salvia. You reach down and rub your clit. This doesn't go unnoticed by Eren, and he spreads your legs to have a look. He had a full view over your dripping cun,t which built up salvia in his mouth. Eren was curious, could he taste that too? Without a second thought, he dived in.

His face was buried against your cunt. He licks a strip up, parting your lips with his tongue. You buck your hips, moaning at the feeling of a knot form in your lower stomach. You hear him groan and then, his mouth was all over your cunt, lapping up all your juices. His teeth grace your bundle of nerves, nipping gently but hard enough to make you cry out. His mouth got even more eager.  “Eren” you gasped, you felt yourself getting closer. “Say my name again” Eren ordered. His tongue laps at your clit and slides through your lips. He pulls out, places a kiss on your cunt and steps back. 

He watches you panting for a moment, your chest rising and falling, his mouth was covered with your juices. You rise up and kiss him gently before you straddled him. Eren looks down as you removed his loincloth, freeing his arching cock. You ran his head, through your soaking folds before lining it up your entrance. It burned as you sank down on him was pleasurable and not too painful. Eren groaned, already losing himself in the feeling of your cunt. His large hands gripped your ass, helping you lower until he was fully seated inside. 

You hissed at the stretch. You kissed him passionately as you slowly started to roll your hips. You made love slowly, your hands keeping purchase on his chest. Eren´s eyes were screwed shut, his grip on you never loosened. He whispered in your ear in between guttural moans. You smile to yourself as you are loving the view of him losing himself beneath you. You clench your walls as you both are reaching your highs. The noises the two of you made were raw, and animalistic as you chased your highs. You slam yourself down onto him, shattering the wall and holding back your orgasms. He lifts up his upper body to hug your sweating body. Your legs are burning and your lungs are burning as you are catching your breath. You laid down on his chest, feeling him playing with your braids before drifting away. 

Eren carried you back to your tent with careful steps, his arms securely wrapped around you. The warm night air was filled with the rustling of leaves and the distant sounds of the jungle. He glanced down at your sleeping form, his sharp green eyes softening at the small, contented sounds you made. A smile crept onto his face. You were so different from him, yet in this moment, you felt closer than anything he’d ever known.

Once he laid you gently on your bedding, he lingered for a moment, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest. The peacefulness of your face and the warmth of your skin made his chest tighten. With a final glance, he turned and slipped away, disappearing into the shadows of the jungle.

On his way back, he caught the faint scent of familiar figures. Before he could react, Mikasa and Jean emerged from the thick foliage. Mikasa's piercing gaze locked onto him immediately. "So, this is why you've been gone?" she asked. Eren rolled his shoulders back. "It’s not just her. I wanted to understand humans. To understand myself." Mikasa tilted her head slightly, her dark eyes scanning him. "Is that all?" Her gaze flickered downward, noticing a small scratch along his collarbone, which was enough for her to piece it together. A slow realization dawned on her face.

"Eren… you mated with her, didn’t you?" Jean exhaled sharply, rubbing his face. "Shit. You’re serious?" He crossed his arms, looking Eren up and down. "You really think that means she’s gonna stay?" Eren’s brows furrowed. "Of course. She’s mine now. You don’t leave your mate, do you?" Mikasa let out a quiet sigh, her expression softening just slightly. "Eren… humans aren’t like us. You can’t be certain she won’t go back to her own kind." For the first time, doubt flickered across Eren’s face. He didn’t want to believe it. You wouldn’t leave, would you? Not after what you shared. Not after the way you looked at him.

Jean, sensing Eren’s frustration, spoke up again, though his tone was softer this time. "Look, man. I understand. You’ve been isolated, caught between two worlds. But if you want her to stay, you need to grasp how humans express love." Eren’s thoughts raced. Then, an image came to mind, the book. The one you had shown him. A love story. He recalled how you lit up when you explained the idea of human affection.

"I need that book," he murmured. Jean looked at him, confused. "What book?" "She showed me a story. A human love story. I need to understand it." Mikasa hesitated for a moment, but ultimately nodded. She had always been by Eren’s side, and this time was no exception. The three of them moved quietly through the campsite, careful not to disturb anyone. They searched through the books, whispering, until a sleepy Armin stumbled out of his tent, still groggy from a late-night trip to the bathroom.

"What... are you guys doing?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. Eren tensed, then let out a breath. "Looking for a book." Armin blinked at him, still half-asleep. Without hesitation, he turned, grabbed the exact book Eren was thinking of, and handed it to him before shuffling back to bed, not even noticing Jean or Mikasa. Once they were in a secluded clearing, they flipped through the pages under the soft glow of the moon. The illustrations depicted a man giving a woman flowers, a gift, followed by a kiss.

The next pages showed them united in some kind of ceremony, surrounded by others, and eventually, a family. Jean squinted at the images. "Wait… so humans don’t just mate? They do all this first?" Eren focused on the book, taking in every detail. "This is how they bond with their mates." Mikasa crossed her arms. "Then give her flowers. Ask her to stay." Eren traced the drawing of the man offering the woman a gift. His mind was made up. He would claim you as his, just like humans do.

A gentle breeze wafted through the fabric of your tent, causing the thin material to flutter slightly. The warmth against your bare skin gradually pulled you from the depths of slumber. Your fingers curled around the sheets as you stirred, and then your eyes flew open. Something felt… off.

As you blinked against the soft morning light filtering through the tent, you slowly became aware of the cool air brushing against your skin. Your heart raced. You shifted beneath the sheets, and the realization crashed over you like a wave. You were naked. Your breath caught as you sat up suddenly, clutching the blanket to your chest. Scanning the tent, your eyes landed on the crumpled heap of your clothes scattered on the floor.

The memories of the previous night flooded back in vivid detail. Eren, the jungle, the way his hands had caressed your skin, how his lips had moved against yours, how he had held you as if you were something precious. Heat rushed to your cheeks. Had it all been a dream? A wild fantasy born from your desires? But no, your body still felt the lingering warmth of his touch, the ache where he had pressed against you.

It had been real. Every moment. Every whispered breath. A heavy weight settled in your chest. You were leaving soon. The expedition wasn’t meant to last forever. England was waiting on you, along with civilisation and your old life. The jungle was never intended to be permanent. Yet, the thought of leaving now felt… wrong.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to ignore the way your heart twisted at the idea of walking away from Eren. This was a mistake. It had to be. You couldn’t belong to him, not in the way he seemed to think you did. But even as you told yourself that, your fingers trembled as they brushed over your lips, recalling how he had kissed you as if you were his entire world. And maybe, just maybe, a part of you had wanted to be.

Days passed in a blur, each one heavy with the weight of the inevitable departure that loomed over you. The jungle, once alive with the sounds of birds and rustling leaves, now felt eerily silent, as if it, too, was holding its breath for what was to come. Then, the ship arrived. Its towering sails stood out sharply against the horizon, a stark reminder of the world you had once known. The crew moved quickly, loading crates and supplies onto the deck, preparing for the long journey back to England. You stood on the shore, fists clenched at your sides, watching as your time in Africa slipped away, piece by piece.

"You don’t understand," you pleaded with Captain Levi. "We need more time!" The captain merely shot you an unimpressed glance before turning his attention back to the crew. "We set sail at dawn," he replied flatly, crossing his arms. "I’m not delaying for a bunch of wide-eyed explorers playing jungle." Floch exhaled sharply beside you, his frustration boiling over. "This is your fault," he snapped, turning to face you.

"You were too busy playing teacher to that wild man instead of focusing on what really mattered!" Your expression darkened as you glared at him. "Don’t pretend I didn’t want to find the gorillas just as much as you did," you retorted. "We both came here seeking answers. And now, we’re leaving with nothing." But before another argument could spark, the sound of movement from the jungle caught your attention.

Eren stepped forward. His green eyes locked onto yours, and without hesitation, he lifted his hands, offering you a bundle of flowers. "Stay," he said simply, his voice thick with emotion. Your breath caught in your throat. Behind you, Floch muttered something under his breath, but you barely registered it. Your entire world had narrowed to this moment, to the way Eren stood before you. You could see the hope and desperation reflected in his eyes.

You swallowed hard, your hands trembling as you gently took the flowers from his grasp. "Eren…"

"Come with me," he urged, his voice low but insistent. "Be with me. Here." Your chest ached. And yet, you couldn’t. The weight of responsibility, of reality, pressed down on you. Your time here was over. No matter how much you longed for more, you had to leave. Your fingers curled around the flowers, but your feet stepped back. "Come with me," you whispered instead, your voice breaking.

"Come to London." Eren’s brows furrowed, his expression twisted. "No," he said, shaking his head. "This is my home. You stay." Tears burned in your eyes. You turned and ran. The jungle blurred around you, but you didn’t stop. Not when your heart begged you to turn back. Not when the sound of your name being called behind you made your steps falter. Eren wanted you to stay. You wanted him to come with you. But in the end, neither of you could give the other what they wanted. And it was tearing you apart.

Floch had been watching you closely, his sharp eyes never missing the way Eren lingered near you, the way he softened in your presence. He saw it for what it was an opportunity. Eren was powerful, but naïve. And if he truly believed you would stay, he’d do anything to make it happen. So Floch made his move.

"You don’t want her to leave, do you?" he asked, his tone deceptively casual. Eren stiffened, his green eyes narrowing. Floch smirked. "Listen," he continued smoothly, "Y/N came all this way looking for the gorillas, right? She’s been searching for them since she got here. If she finds them and finally gets what she came for, maybe she’ll realise this is where she belongs. With you." Eren, trusting Floch, clenched his jaw and nodded. "I’ll show her." Without another word, he turned and disappeared into the jungle. Floch’s smirk widened before he ran to gather both you and Armin.

It was almost too easy.

Navigating through the dense jungle, Eren moved with the precision of a predator, leading you, Armin, and Floch along paths that seemed to exist only in his mind. He wasn’t reckless; he understood that if he took you directly into the heart of the gorilla troop’s territory, Grisha would intervene. So, he crafted a plan. He drew Grisha away, keeping the powerful leader occupied while he guided you deeper into the jungle. And then, you saw them. A hidden valley, pristine and alive with creatures that had only existed in your imagination until that moment.

Gorillas.

They were enormous, larger than any you had ever read about, yet they moved with an unexpected gentleness. Some lounged beneath the trees, while others played in the river, their deep, rumbling calls resonating through the clearing. Your breath caught in your throat. "We… actually found them," you whispered in awe.

Armin stepped forward "This is incredible…" Floch, however, had other intentions. He quietly pulled a notebook from his coat, sketching rough outlines of the valley, mapping the land while you were too captivated to notice. But Eren wasn’t focused on the gorillas.

He was watching you.

"You understand now?" he asked. You turned to him, puzzled. "Understand what?" He stepped closer, his gaze intense. "That this is where you belong." Your heart raced. Before you could find the words to reply, Eren made deep, rhythmic grunts mixed with chest beats. It took a moment for you to grasp what he was doing. Your breath caught again. "What… what did you just say?" Eren's gaze was locked onto your warm brown eyes. "That you will stay with me."

The world around you seemed to freeze. But before you could even process his words, a low, threatening growl shattered the moment. The gorillas stirred, shifting uneasily. Some backed away, while others tensed, muscles coiled in anticipation. And then, through the trees, a massive figure emerged. Grisha.

And he was furious.

Grisha’s roar reverberated through the ground beneath your feet. He moved with a terrifying swiftness, his massive figure slicing through the clearing in an instant. Eren barely had time to react before the gorilla leader lunged. Jean and Mikasa stepped forward, muscles taut, ready to step in. "Stay back," Eren warned, his body coiled like a spring. Grisha’s presence was overwhelming, his towering form exuding pure dominance.

His gaze flickered between you, Armin, and Floch before settling on Eren. "You brought them here?" Grisha’s voice was deep and guttural, filled with restrained fury. Eren squared his shoulders. "I had to." The elder gorilla let out a low snarl.

"You have betrayed your own kind." Eren’s fists clenched, but before he could respond, Floch boldly stepped forward. "We were always going to find you," he said smoothly. "If not now, then soon enough." Grisha’s eyes darkened, nostrils flaring. "You think you can manipulate my people, human?" Floch smirked. "I don’t think. I know." It happened too quickly to react. Grisha lunged not at Eren, but at Floch.

The red-haired man barely dodged, stumbling back as the ground shook beneath Grisha’s sheer force. "Enough!" Eren’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding. Grisha hesitated for a split second, muscles twitching. "You don’t understand," Eren said, his voice steadier now.

"I wanted them to see. I wanted her to see." He turned to you, desperation etched on his face. "Tell him. Tell him you belong here." You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Because you didn’t know the answer. And that moment of hesitation… It shattered something in Eren.

Grisha’s eyes softened just a bit. "You see, my son? They will always choose their own." Eren’s jaw tightened. His hands trembled. He didn’t look at you. And for the first time since meeting him, you saw something in his eyes that had never been there before. Sorrow.

Behind you, two of Floch’s men rushed into the clearing, weapons at the ready. The atmosphere shifted, charged with tension. Eren barely had a moment to react before he was locked in a struggle with the massive gorilla, trying to restrain him. "Go!" he yelled over his shoulder. "Run!" You hesitated. "Eren—"

"GO!" Armin seized your wrist, pulling you away as Floch dashed ahead. The jungle blurred around you, Grisha’s roars echoing in the distance. The ground shook beneath them as Grisha roared in fury, fighting against Eren’s hold, but for once, the younger was stronger. Panting heavily, Eren met his father’s gaze. His chest felt heavy, not from the struggle, but from the weight of what he knew was inevitable.

"You are no son of mine," Grisha spat. Those words struck deeper than any physical blow. Eren’s grip wavered just enough for Grisha to shove him away, but the fight was already lost. The elder gorilla stood tall, shaking off the dirt, and turned his back on Eren without a word. Something inside Eren shattered. Mikasa observed in silence, her usual stoic demeanor tinged with a hint of pity. Eren didn’t glance at her. Without another word, he walked away, leaving behind everything he had ever known.

The camp was still when you, Armin, and Floch returned. The night was thick with the scent of damp earth, the distant sounds of the jungle still murmuring through the trees. Despite the safety of the campfires and the familiarity of the tents, a heavy weight settled in your chest. Grisha’s words echoed in your mind. "You see, my son? They will always choose their own." Eren hadn’t come back with you. He had stayed behind, alone in the place that had once felt like home, but now it was different. He had nowhere to go. No one. But he returned. Long after the others had settled in, long after the fires had dimmed, he appeared. His steps were slow, his expression unreadable, but his eyes were searching for one thing.

You.

Your breath caught, guilt twisting in your stomach. He looked so lost.

Floch noticed him before you did. He straightened up from checking supplies, his eyes narrowing. "Oh, hell no," he muttered, stepping forward. "Jungle boy, you need to—"

"It’s fine." The words slipped out before you could think twice. Floch hesitated, his eyebrows knitting together in irritation. "Excuse me?" You met his glare without flinching. "I said it’s fine." Floch scoffed. "Oh, I see. Now you're inviting him into your tent?" He let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "Unbelievable."

Before he could say anything else, Armin, ever the voice of reason, spoke up. "Actually, Floch," he said smoothly, "this could be beneficial for research purposes. We've been documenting Eren’s behavior extensively, and first-hand observation is crucial to understanding—"

Floch rolled his eyes. "Fine. Whatever." He shot you one last look before stomping off toward his own tent, grumbling under his breath.

You sighed, turning back toward your tent only to find Eren still standing there, hesitant.

You nodded toward the entrance. "Come on."

Eren followed silently.

Inside, the space was small, barely enough room for the two of you, but Eren didn’t seem to care. His gaze flickered across your things your maps, your books, your clothes folded neatly in the corner but in the end, he only looked at you.

You sat on the cot, shifting slightly to make room.

Eren hesitated for only a moment before climbing in beside you.

The second he was close enough, he wrapped his arms around you. His grip was tight, desperate, like he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go. His face burrowed into the corner of your neck, warm breath fanning against your skin.

Your fingers moved instinctively, brushing through the tangled strands of his hair, tucking a few loose ones behind his ear.

For a while, there was only silence.

Then, softly, you asked, "Back in the jungle… when you told the others I was staying… what did you mean?"

Eren stiffened slightly but didn’t pull away.

"I thought…" His voice was low, muffled against your skin. "I thought if you saw them...really saw them, you wouldn’t leave."

Your chest tightened.

"You wouldn’t leave me."

His fingers clenched slightly at the fabric of your shirt. "I couldn’t—" He swallowed. "I can’t be alone again."

Your breath caught.

Because you understood.

You had known loneliness, too. The kind that swallowed you whole, the kind that made the world feel too quiet, too empty. You had lost your family once. You knew what it was like to wake up and have no one left.

You leaned in and kissed him on the forehead, and then on his soft lips. Eren was on his way to remove your nightgown, but you told him that he couldn’t, as you need to be discreet. You didn’t want Armin, especially Floch, to know about your secret affair. Eren nods, but you tell him that he can remove your panties. Eren eagerly takes off your panties as he yearned to be close to you again.

You kissed him again, this time softer than the first time. He remembered how you touched yourself earlier, so he mimicked those movements. Drawing circles on your clit with his rough hands. You moaned in his mouth as you reached your high. 

Eren removed his loincloth, and you stroked him with your cum making him ready for you. He lined himself between your legs, running the head through your soaking folds before lining up with your entrance. The burn as he sank down was pleasurable with just the right amount of pain. Eren groaned, losing himself in the feeling of your tight walls. He leans downwards to lay his forehead on yours. You nodded, giving him the green light he wanted. He kissed you passionately as he thrust inside with slow but passionate movements. He sets a faster pace, cock buried inside to the hilt every time he pushes back in. You cross your legs behind his back, pulling him in as deep as possible while his cock twitches inside you, filling you with his seed.  He pulls out, falling exhausted onto the bed next to you, holding you. 

You placed a hand over his, squeezing gently. "The London offer is still up," you whispered.

Eren said nothing. He only held you tight.

The morning mist hung low over the jungle as you stood at the edge of the dock, staring at the massive ship that would take you back to London. The sounds of the waking jungle mixed with the distant chatter of the ship’s crew loading supplies.

Eren stood beside you, clad in a dark suit that Armin had borrowed him. His green eyes no longer held their usual fire.

You touched his arm gently. "You’ll see the world, Eren. Kings, scientists, and famous writers will all want to meet you. You’re going to change everything."

But he only looked at you with a small, tired smile."I don’t care about any of that," he murmured. "I just want to be with you."

Your heart ached at his words, but the ship’s horn sounded before you could respond, signalling your departure.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped onto the gangplank, with Eren following close behind.

And then the chaos started.

Before you could even process what was happening, hands grabbed you, yanking you backwards. You gasped, struggling against the grip of unfamiliar men as they forced you toward the ship’s cargo hold.

"Eren!" you cried, thrashing against the captors.

Armin was already being dragged away, his shouts drowned out by the commotion. Crew members fought back, but they were outnumbered. Captain Levi was locked in a scuffle with one of the attackers, his blade flashing before he was struck from behind and forced to his knees.

Eren snarled, instinct taking over as he dodged the first attack, shoving one of the thugs aside with brute strength. He moved like a predator, fists swinging with unrelenting fury until the barrel of a gun was pressed to his temple.

The scuffle stopped.

The unmistakable sound of a rifle cocking cut through the air.

Eren turned his head slightly, breath heavy, eyes still burning with resistance until he saw who was holding the gun.

Floch.

For a brief second, relief flickered across Eren’s face. "Floch," he panted, straightening. "Help me. These men—"

But Floch just smiled.

Not a reassuring smile. Not the smirk of someone amused.

A cruel smile.

And in that instant, Eren knew.

His entire body went rigid.

"Floch…?"

The red-haired man’s smirk widened. "Oh, Eren," he said, almost mockingly. "You still don’t get it, do you?"

Eren barely had time to react before Floch swung his rifle, slamming the handle hard into his chest.

A sharp gasp escaped his lips as he stumbled backward, coughing, vision swimming.

"You—" Eren wheezed, eyes burning with rage and betrayal.

Floch stepped closer, slightly lowering his rifle, tilting his head in mock sympathy. "You actually thought I was trying to help you?" He chuckled, shaking his head. "No, Eren. I was helping myself."

Eren’s fists clenched, his entire body trembling. "Why?"

Floch’s smile turned razor-sharp. "Simple. Money." He lifted his rifle, resting it casually against his shoulder. "Three hundred pounds. Per gorilla."

Eren’s stomach twisted.

"You…You used me."

Floch feigned surprise. "Did I? Or did you just let me?" His voice dripped with mockery. "After all, you were the one who led us right to them. I just… took advantage of the situation."

Eren lunged, but the thugs grabbed him before he could even take a step.

Floch sighed, shaking his head. "Tsk, tsk. Can’t have you ruining my plans now, can we?" He leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a whisper. "You were never meant to leave this jungle, Eren. You belong in a cage."

Eren thrashed, but the men held him firm.

"Lock him up with the others," Floch ordered, his voice cold. "We have gorillas to catch."

And just like that, Eren was dragged away, his vision blurring as betrayal sank its claws deep into his chest.

You watched, helpless, as Floch and his men climbed into small boats, their cages ready, their destination set.

Straight to the gorilla’s nests.

And there was nothing you could do to stop it.

The thugs worked swiftly under the cover of night, their torches casting eerie shadows over the jungle as they raided the nests. The gorillas’ cries echoed deep, guttural roars of defiance and fear through the trees. Nets were thrown, ropes tightened, and iron cages slammed shut, trapping the massive creatures one by one. The younger gorillas screeched in terror as they were yanked from their mothers and shoved into burlap sacks, their tiny fists beating helplessly against the rough fabric.

Grisha fought harder than any of them. With a furious bellow, he broke free from one net, his powerful arms sending men flying like ragdolls. He ripped through another trap, his fangs glinting in the firelight. For a moment, it looked like he might turn the tide until a rifle butt cracked against his skull.

Grisha staggered, momentarily dazed. That was all the hunters needed. Thick chains were thrown over his shoulders, yanked tight around his throat and arms, dragging him to the ground.

Floch stepped forward, dusting off his coat. He loomed over the defeated leader, tilting his head as if considering his next move. A slow, satisfied smirk crept onto his face.

"Well, well… the great king of the jungle, brought to his knees." He let out a mocking chuckle, pressing his boot against Grisha’s arm to keep him pinned. "Not so powerful now, are you?"

Grisha let out a low, rumbling growl, his breath heavy with rage.

Floch hummed thoughtfully, raising his rifle. "You know, I should’ve done this from the start. Would’ve saved me a lot of trouble."

He cocked the gun, his finger hovering over the trigger.

And then.

"FLOCH!"

Heads snapped toward the sound.

A blur of motion. A shadow moving against the firelight.

And then, suddenly, an eruption of chaos.

Mikasa and Jean struck first, emerging from the underbrush like wraiths. Jean punched his fist into a thug’s stomach, sending him crumpling to the ground. With the deadly precision of a predator, Mikasa slashed through the ropes binding one of the larger gorillas with her claws.

Then came Eren.

Freed from captivity, his body moved on pure instinct. His bare feet barely touched the earth as he launched himself forward, a wild force of nature. Before the thugs could react, he crashed into one of them, knocking the man’s rifle away before slamming him into the dirt.

Panic erupted in the camp. The hunters scrambled, some drawing weapons, others too terrified to react.

The gorillas, sensing their chance, fought back. Carla, the troop’s matriarch, let out a deafening roar before swinging her powerful arms, knocking two men into the very cages meant for her kind. The rest of the troop followed suit, tearing through nets, flipping cages, and sending Floch’s well-laid plans crumbling around him.

Floch cursed under his breath, ducking behind a supply crate as the camp descended into madness. His men were losing. The gorillas were free. And worst of all.

Eren was coming for him.

His green eyes burned with rage, his breath heavy, chest rising and falling like that of an enraged beast. His gaze locked onto Floch, his muscles tensed, coiled, ready to strike.

Floch barely had time to react before Eren lunged.

From the shadows of the undergrowth, a gunshot rang out. The bullet barely missed its mark, grazing Eren’s right arm. He hissed at the sharp sting but didn't falter.

A second shot followed, this one aimed at Grisha.

The older man had no time to react before the bullet tore through him. He staggered, his face twisting in pain, but even then, he didn’t fall. With a final burst of strength, Grisha charged at Floch, his eyes blazing with unshaken resolve.

Floch sneered and stepped back, raising his rifle again. Another shot.

This time, Grisha collapsed.

You barely had a second to process it before a brutal force slammed into you. Floch swung the butt of his rifle against your ribs, knocking the breath from your lungs. The world spun, and before you could recover, darkness crept in at the edges of your vision.

Floch barely spared you a glance as he turned back to Eren.

The battle moved to the treetops, the jungle alive with the sounds of their fight. Fists and words collided, civilization against nature, arrogance against instinct. Floch fought like a man who refused to lose, but Eren fought like something greater.

A well-timed strike sent Floch stumbling. His fingers fumbled for his rifle only for Eren to knock it away. The weapon slipped from Floch’s grasp and fell into Eren’s hands.

For a moment, everything stilled.

Floch smirked despite his predicament, looking down the barrel of his own gun. "Go on," he taunted, voice dripping with contempt. "Pull the trigger. Be a man."

Eren’s fingers tightened around the grip. His breath was heavy, his heart pounding.

One pull of the trigger. One shot. It would be so easy.

But then, Eren’s eyes darkened not with rage, but with something steadier. He pressed the muzzle against Floch’s neck, his expression unreadable.

And then.

A deafening BOOM.

Floch flinched violently, his entire body tensing. But there was no bullet. No pain.

Eren had mimicked the sound of a gunshot.

His gaze bore into Floch’s, his voice cold and unwavering. "I’m not like you."

Without hesitation, he shattered the rifle, slamming it against a thick tree branch. The weapon broke apart, its remains tumbling to the jungle floor.

Floch’s smirk vanished. His face twisted in rage, his body trembling with frustration. A furious roar ripped from his throat as he tore a machete from his belt.

"You animal—!" he bellowed, lunging at Eren.

Eren dodged back, nimbly avoiding the wild swings. Floch’s attacks were erratic, driven by pure hatred. But in his blind rage, he failed to notice the vines coiling around his legs.

One misstep. That’s all it took.

His foot snagged on the tangled mass of vines, and before he could regain his balance, the jungle itself seemed to fight back. The more he struggled, the tighter the vines became.

"Stop," Eren warned, breathless.

Floch ignored him, hacking at the vines, his desperation mounting. The final vine slipped like a noose around his throat.

Realization dawned too late.

The last vine snapped.

Floch’s body dropped like a stone then jerked to a sickening halt.

A strangled gurgle left his lips as his hands clawed at his throat, his wide eyes filled with horror. The jungle, in the end, had claimed him.

Lightning split the sky, casting eerie shadows against the trees. For a brief moment, the flickering light revealed the silhouette of Floch’s lifeless body swaying in the canopy.

Eren stood beneath him, breathing hard. He didn't celebrate. He didn’t even look at Floch’s corpse.

Armin and you watched in heavy silence as Grisha, weak and battered, turned to Eren one last time.

With fading strength, the elder gorilla placed a hand on Eren’s shoulder. His eyes, once filled with judgment, now held something softer.

"Lead them well."

And with that, Grisha collapsed. His final breath lost to the jungle.

The morning was golden, the sun stretching its fingers over the treetops as if reluctant to let go of the night. The river was calm, reflecting the sky like a sheet of glass.

You stood at the shore, your feet sinking slightly into the damp sand. The rowboat waited, Armin already seated inside, his hands resting patiently on the oars.

Eren stood a few feet away, silent, holding the small band you had once used to tie his hair into a man-bun. His fingers turned it over gently, reverently, as if it were the most precious thing he had ever been given.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced a smile. "Goodbye, Eren."

His eyes flickered, but he said nothing.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped into the boat. The wooden planks creaked beneath you as you sat beside Armin. The current caught the boat immediately, pulling it gently away from the shore.

Eren didn’t move. He just stood there, watching you drift further and further away.

For the first few moments, you said nothing, staring down at your hands in your lap, willing your heart to be still.

Then, Armin spoke.

"You should stay."

Your head snapped up. "What?"

"You should stay," he repeated, his voice calm, certain. "You love him."

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come.

"I belong in England," you said finally, though the words felt hollow even as you spoke them. "With you. With Avery and Hitch and Sasha and—"

"We can visit," Armin interrupted gently. "It’s not the end."

Your chest tightened.

He studied you for a long moment, then sighed, shaking his head with a small smile. "You know… I can’t remember the last time I saw you like this. Happy. Free."

You blinked at him, startled.

He glanced toward Eren, who still stood at the shore, unmoving. "Since your parents died… it’s like a part of you shut down. You’ve been surviving, not living." His voice softened. "But here? With him? You’re alive again. You laugh, you smile, you run. I’ve never seen you this energetic since we were kids."

You swallowed hard, something breaking inside you.

"I don’t want you to leave and regret it," Armin murmured. "Not when you've finally found where you belong."

Your fingers curled into your palms.

"But I-I I can’t get my hair braided here?" you tried weakly. Armin rolled his eyes. "You should embrace your natural hair more anyway." You exhaled sharply, feeling the final walls of your resolve crumble.

There was nothing left to argue.

There was nothing left to run from.

Eren was your home.

Your heart was already back on that shore.

So you followed it.

Without another thought, you stood, braced yourself and jumped.

The water hit you like a shock, but you didn’t stop. You surfaced, gasping, and swam hard for the shore. Behind you, Armin laughed before diving in as well. Eren, who had watched you go without a word, now stood frozen in place, eyes wide, disbelief written all over his face. You reached the shallows and didn’t hesitate, rushing forward, you tackled him.

The two of you tumbled into the surf, waves splashing around you as laughter bubbled from your chest. Eren stared at you, breathless, as if afraid to believe this was real.

In gorilla-speak, you whispered, "I will stay with you."

A sharp breath left him, his fingers tightening around your arms as if anchoring himself to this moment.

Then, he kissed you.

It was urgent, desperate, and full of everything that words could never say. His hands framed your face, pulling you closer, as if he could pour every ounce of his soul into you. And you kissed him back, pouring everything into him, the fear, the longing, the love.

The jungle had stolen your heart the day you arrived. But Eren… Eren had made it beat.

[milkymora]

✧ mcl (hsl) flirts - voice headcanons ✧

note: receiving an ask wondering who i’d headcanon as voice for castiel, i got the idea of making hdcs what the hsl boys voices would sound like!!! obv everything is sfw, cts of the pics used to the respective owners on pinterest! enjoyy xo

𖹭 castiel.

i feel like castiel has the typical american english accent. i headcanon him to be born in a big city, like new york or los angeles, due to his parents having a well-paid job that allowed that kind of life.

for that reason, i think chris pine (jack frost’s voice actor in “rise of guardians”) would be a perfect example of what his voice would sound like;

sassy, provocative, yet kind and genuine.

𖹭 nathaniel.

as mentioned in my amber’s hdcs, i headcanon his family is german. both him and his sister can fluently speak german and they do have a little bit of an accent when talking in other languages.

someone like louis hofmann (werner pfenning’s actor in “all the light we cannot see”) would suit him good, even if his accent would be a little less marked than werner’s.

his tone is mostly quiet and low, but he does have his bursts of energy, especially when addressing castiel or others he doesn’t really like; that’s when the german kicks in the most.

𖹭 lysander.

oh, this boy is a gentle giant and his voice is definitely the deepest one, which is accentuated by the way he talks: basically whispering all the time. nobody knows whether it’s shyness or just his normal way of speaking,

all i know is that his voice would sound close to josh o’connor’s (price charles in “the crown”, season 3).

yes, he is british, with a beautiful londinese accent.

𖹭 armin.

lucas zade jumann (gilbert blythe’s actor in “ann with an e”) would be perfect for him. just a little more expressive.

listen, this guy is a walking meme, okay? he’d be dead serious for a moment and making questionable noises (yes, he’s the type of friend that would moan when you’re on call with your mom) the second later. he’s also freaking loud when talking and doesn’t even realize it.

another thing: he’s scarily good at making impressions of anime characters. beware for phone pranks.

𖹭 kentin.

even after puberty hit, his voice still remains the sweetest of them all. his french accent only makes it worse, making jessie james grell (armin arlert’s english voice actor in “attack on titan”) a pretty accurate option for him.

the voice actor isn’t french and i don’t really know if he ever played french characters, but just imagine his voice with a subtle french accent in it.

don’t get fooled though. the boy has lungs and, just like armin, can easily forget how loud he can get when upset. mostly happens when castiel’s around.

gosh i had so much fun writing these headcanons!! tbh i hope these are good, i mainly listen to italian stuff so my knowledge of english voice actors/actors is limited :,) lmk what you think, if the voices match what you think they’d actually sound like.

✧ mcl navigation. ✧

[co-psycho]

Face Sitting with Eren

a/n: hey guys….sorry for not posting in so long, I’ve been having reader block for so long. Like seriously I’ve been just putting of writing for like 3 whole months now. After the voting I did start writing the FaceTime call smut story with Eren but I literally just don’t know what to add so I’ll try to get it out before the end of November.

Since I’ve been keeping you all waiting for so long I’ll just post this to make up for the long wait.

I was also asked to post an Armin twitter link so that will be out soon too.

Cw: Oral sex f! Receiving

“Are you sure about this?”

He could hear the doubt that was lingering in your voice. Nervousness and shock was spread throughout your face as you look below him.

His lips brush against your softly as you grind on his lap. You feel his warm hands gliding up the sides of your body slowly, holding onto you tightly as if you might slip away.

The kiss was passionate and slow. A smile slowly creeped onto his lips. He was going to ask for something. You just know it.

“Baby”. Can we try something new?”

And now you’re here hovering your slick over his face. The embarrassment rushes over your face as you imagine what you probably look like.

“If I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t have asked you and don’t feel pressured into doing this, we can stop if you want”.

“No…I want to try it”.

His face now had a big smile planted on his face. “Ok so sit”.

He was laid flat on his back on the bed you both shared. “What if you can’t breathe?”

“I’ll tell you if I can’t breathe”.

“What if I’m too heavy of what if you get hurt?”

He found it cute how flustered and worried you were getting. You were asking so many questions, to many in his opinion.

“Baby, I promise if anything doesn’t seem right I’ll stop you right away. Ok, don’t stress over it so much”.

You take a deep breath before nodding your head yes.

You slowly lower yourself onto his face. When you finally lay fully on his you feel his arms wrap around your thighs.

The air from his nose was slow and steady.

You gasped when you felt warmness lap at your clit. He tongue licked at your clit slowly, teasing you for his pleasure.

The thought of sitting on your boyfriend’s face and there being a possibility of killing him or injuring him somehow frightened you.

You remember ‘if I need to breathe I’ll tap you’ Erens words.

You fully let your weight sit on him. The feeling was weird. You could feel every time he shifted his head. His nose bumping your clit every now and then.

He licked and sucked at your clit sooo slow, it was driving you already into a frenzy. His nails pierced your skin once he got a good grip and pace.

You slowly start to ruck your hips forwards and backwards riding his face. The friction of rubbing against his tongue was started to become a little overwhelming.

Your hips started to become steady as you moved faster on his face gripping his dark brown locks.

The feeling of your most sensitive part of your body on top of his face made you and eren have feelings you’ve never felt before.

It was a sense of connection that was yet so intimate at the same time.

That warm heat was building up so quick, you’ve never experienced almost coming un done so fast. Leaning yourself more back you rubbed at Eren’s strained cock in his pants.

He shooed your hand away when you fingers started to trace the hardened outline of his cock in his pants.

His cock was straining and begging to be touched or get any source of release. Pants that were once loose become tight from his hard cock. Pre cum was starting to stain his pants from being so turned on by your beautiful and soft moans slipping from your lips.

Your hips move faster as you felt your orgasm approaching fast, grabbing onto your tit you twist your harden nip that makes you moan louder.

He held onto your legs tightly as you started to squirm from the warmth in your slit that was starting to grow more and more.

Your legs began to shake from overstimulation. The firing surge of your orgasm whelmed through your body, feeling hot and heavy as a breath you didn’t even know you were holding was let out.

You rolled onto the other side of the bed panting heavily. Catching a glimpse at Eren his cheeks were flushed red, his nose down to his chin was covered in your arousal. You watched as he licked his lips and looked over at you.

“Did you like it?” He asked between each breath.

You nodded your head as a smile creeped onto your lips. “We should do that again sometimes”. You said shyly.

“Let’s do it again…right now”.

It’s pretty short but I’m surprised I even finished it

Anyways I hoped you enjoyed

[satorisoup]

⌗ 𝐒𝐎 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 ⁝ ( ᰔ )

— eren yeager

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ﾉ fluff. written + mini smau. petnames ( baby, angel, pretty ).

𝐖𝐂 ﾉ 495

thinking about sweetheart!eren, who truly is the most tooth rotting, delightful boyfriend of the bunch.

it could be the little things, like noticing the goosebumps that rise on your arms and the slight quiver in your breath from the weather outside, and eren is already here to wrap his sweater around you. fixing the collar without a second thought, kissing your cheek with a grin and telling you not to worry, he doesn’t mind the cold. eren would rather be shivering like a broken icicle than ever have to worry about your warmth.

or when you’re hungry, eren knows it’s his obligation as your boyfriend to keep your belly full. he may not be the best cook by a long shot, but you best believe he will buy you anything you’re craving. asking his mother to whip up a batch of her soup recipe when you’re sick, or taking you through the drive-through at 2am because he heard your tummy grumble. he’s wiping sauce off of your face with a laugh, telling you he doesn’t care about the time, if you’re hungry then you need to eat.

but what truly makes eren a sweetheart, is just how utterly smitten he is with the entirety of you.

he loves to be around you, and mourns when you’re gone. it’s almost impossible to go anywhere without him when he’s always at your feet, ready to do whatever you’re doing together because he just can’t stand the thought of being without you. of course he understands you need space, but at the bottom of his heart, it absolutely aches for your presence at any given moment.

and how he adores your touch like it’s a lifeline keeping him together. holding you, smoothing out your skin with calloused hands, squishing your cheeks together to plant a kiss on your lips. he’s practically purring when he smooches your cheeks, smiling and telling you that “ you’re just too cute, baby. ” and he really means it.

or how he uses any chance he gets to talk about you. he doesn’t care if armin is absolutely sick of hearing the same stories and excuses, eren is already spouting your name out of his mouth like the letters are part of his lovesick poem. “ my girlfriend loves that movie ” or, “ i need to see my girlfriend after this ”.

even your voice. texting just doesn’t seem to cut it anymore, his thumbs tired and ears neglected as he dials your number again and again. “ i miss you’s ” and “ good morning’s ” are never uncommon when it comes to dating eren, who takes any chance he can get to hear your honeyed voice speak to him like a gentle song.

from your hair all the way down to your toes, sweetheart eren yeager believes you are a pinochle that he was born to be enraptured with, and from eternity onward he wants to prove that to you.

© satorisoup ── do not copy, repost, plagiarize, or feed any of my work into ai.

[hopleii]

how they act when they're drunk. . .

content: jean x gn!reader, eren x gn!reader, armin x gn!reader, erwin x gn!reader (seperate), fluff, not proofread, tiny bit ooc (first time writing for these characters), alcohol mention, slightly suggestive on erwin's part, lowercase intentional

a/n: OMGOMGOMGOMG first time writing for aot kinda scaredddd, did u guys know I binge watched aot for 3 weeks because the movie is coming out and i never finished it in s1 back in 2021? omg. i forgot just how much i loved jean and armin. RAHHHH

JEAN KIRSTEIN

jean would be the clingy type of drunk. whether its just you two or with other people, he needs to have you in arms reach 24/7. going to the bathroom? okay, he's going with you. need a glass of water? he'll walk you to the cupboard. want to talk with your friends? he'll talk with them too!

when its just the two of you, he's not afraid to be clingy and openly hugs you or touches you. its just you two, right?

when its with other people, he's more careful, but it's still painfully obvious and embarrassing. he tries to brush it off with excuses like "i just don't want them to be alone", "what if they get lost?"

"jean, i have to go to the bathroom."

he groans dramatically, rolling his eyes and pouting petulantly. "but what if you get lost? you never know what could happen!"

you roll your eyes at his slurred words, but deep down, you find his intoxicated state adorable. when you finally give in (he totally started throwing a tantrum) he follows you to the bathroom and he just lingers outside, pacing around and checking up on you every millisecond.

"are you done?"

"i'm fixing my hair, jean."

"is it fixed now?"

"patience, my dear."

"damn it..."

EREN YEAGER

eren would be the talkative type of drunk. when he's intoxicated, he mostly starts to open up about random things. how he feels about the dish you cooked weeks ago, how he hates how he styled his hair that night, etc.

but as time goes on and he drinks a few more bottles, he starts opening up about deeper topics: how he misses his mom, how he thinks the world is a rotten place, how much you mean to him and more!

he'll play it off with his usual bravado, though. but he is literally the definition of "drunk words are sober thoughts."

you and eren are at a small gathering with friends, and the alcohol has started to loosen him up a little, becoming more talkative and loud than usual. after too many drinks, he's on the couch, words slurred and eyes too heavy to even look at you. he pulls you aside, arm slung around your shoulders.

"you know," he starts, his voice quieter than when he was ranting earlier. "i don't think I've ever told you how much you mean to me." his words slur slightly, but you recognize the sincerity in his voice.

you chuckle lightly, "you've told me before, eren, a lot, actually."

he shakes his head, cupping your face with his calloused hands, "i did? well, you just mean a lot to me. i don't know what i'd do without you, you know?"

you blink at his sincerity, surprised by his openness, but when he sees this, he grins. "i just wanted you to know, okay? 'cause you keep forgetting."

ARMIN ARLERT

armin gets shy and giddy (or "kilig) when intoxicated. occasionally getting bashful but constantly expressing his admiration for you. he has the biggest crush on you whenever he's drunk! he's the type to act like a highschool boy in love when he's drunk with you, all puppy love-ish and giddy. he gets giggly and tends to ramble, sometimes too much.

it's a quiet evening, and after a few drinks, armin's smile gets a little wider as the alcohol starts kicking in. he looks over at you, leaning in with a slight blush on his face.

"you know," he says slowly, his words mixing with his giggles, "I've always thought you were really amazing. I mean, super amazing, but now that I've had a few drinks, you're, like...the most amaaazingg person who ever lived."

you couldn't help but laugh, taking away the wine glass from his hand. "you've had too much to drink, armin."

armin shakes his head insistently, "no, no! it's just...you're so smart and so pretty, and you're so kind too..."

he stands up, moving his chair beside yours, leaning on your shoulder. "you're amazing..."

ERWIN SMITH

erwin, the level-headed and composed commander, is the type of person to get extremely relaxed. too relaxed. of course, everyone wants their hard-working commander to let loose a little bit, but when alcohol gets mixed in his system, all responsibility seems to slide off his shoulders.

he starts to crack lighthearted jokes, telling all sorts of silly stories, and starts to flirt a bit more with you.

the survey corps had just wrapped up a long day of strategizing and reviewing reports, and everyone decided a victory celebration should be held. during this celebration, however, erwin had downed too many drinks, and his usual composure and stern attitude was slowly slipping away. you and the rest of the squad were gathered around the briefing table, preparing to discuss tomorrow's agenda and finishing any leftover work.

the room was filled with serious chatter, discussing and planning, until erwin stood up, swaying slightly. "erwin...?" you tilt your head, thinking you or the squad suggested something wrong.

"you all," he began, his words slightly slurred, "all you do is talk about work...we've all worked hard, haven't we?" his voice was a bit louder than usual, more booming and firm. the room stopped what they were doing, exchanging confused glances and looking at you.

you shrug your shoulders, also perplexed by your lover's behavior. he waved a lazy hand in the air, sitting back down on his chair, "forget all of this...just do it tomorrow."

and that was enough for you to know that erwin smith was completely and utterly drunk. “but erwin, we still have important reports to finalize and the logistics for the supply run tomorrow…”

"we've been doing that all week, my love! you're all telling me a few more hours of paperwork is more important than a peaceful night’s rest?"

you watched your lover with growing disbelief, this was a side of erwin that even you haven't seen. laid-back, relaxed, and...lazy?

"erwin, are you seriously drunk...?"

"maybe it's time to stop being so serious, hm? i happen to like it when you're happy and having fun, my love." he whispers into your ear, dismissing the others afterwards.

© — hopleii

[eli0004]

Long Distance with the AoT Men

Contains: Eren, Jean, Armin, Connie, Levi

Synopsis: what is it like to be in a long distance relationship with the AoT boys? Let’s find out 👇

Warnings: none really, pure fluff, gn!reader

Eren Yeager wants to sleep on FaceTime. Every. Single. Night. If you try to hang up he will sulk so bad, it’s ridiculous. He looks so insanely gorgeous when he’s sleeping though, so you wouldn’t dare complain. Eren has a whole goodnight routine too. You say you love him, he says he loves you more, and bitch you better say you love him most, or else. Eren is not the Eren he is in public when he’s sleepy and missing you from miles away. There’s a certain longing in his voice when he talks about your future together, when you talk about your plans to move in together and get to lay in each other’s arms. Sometimes he thinks about just quitting school, packing his shit and booking a one way flight to your city, but he knows how important it is to you that you’re both secure and ready for a move like that. Until then, he’ll save every penny and he’ll look forward to every opportunity to visit you.

Jean Kirstein watches movies with you. Jean is the type of guy that: A. Can’t sit still and do nothing, and B. Has probably seen every movie that exists in the world. He loves FaceTime dates where the two of you stream a movie together. Absolutely will go old school with it and start a movie at the exact same time, making sure to count down from three if there’s an interruption so you can pause at the same time too. Believes it’s mandatory to have pizza for a movie date. Always Orders himself pizza, and will door dash one to your place too😭 Mans looks so soft and comfy in bed, all clad in a warm hoodie, hood up, chewing on the strings. You can see the light from the screen flashing, illuminating his sleepy face. It’s those moments when the distance aches a little more, missing the feeling of being there snuggled up against his warm chest.

Armin Arlert just wants to lay there and look at you. If you’re gonna be in a long distance relationship with Armin, you must understand that he is a highly emotional, sappy, clingy guy. When his days are busy and his schedule is packed and he finds himself talking to you less, when you finally do have an hour or so to really sit and talk about things, those are the days when Armin struggles extra hard with long distance, and needs a lot of reassurance that you’re still happy with him, even though he can’t be there with you, especially when he knows there are plenty of other people who could be. More than likely, he spends a lot of your calls shedding intermittent tears, expressing his desire to snuggle up with you every time the thought crosses his mind. When he starts to get sleepy, his eyes droop and he lays his head on his pillow. He’s looking over every feature on your face, making sure to etch every minute detail into his memory for when he’s missing you the next day. He’ll fall asleep, doing just that.

Connie Springer just carries you around everywhere on FaceTime. He’ll go into the grocery store with you in his pocket, talking to you through his AirPods about what flavor of instant ramen he should buy. He sets you up on the counter while he cooks said ramen, so you can watch his chaotic ass burn a cup of noodles. Like eren, Connie probably wants to sleep on FaceTime, but he never remembers to put his phone on the charger so it dies at like 2 in the morning, and he’ll CALL YOU BACK just to be like “sorry babe, goodnight, i love you *snores*”. When Connie is in public, if you crack a joke while you’re in his pocket and he’s wearing his AirPods, he’ll laugh out loud, and you get the pleasure of overhearing people ask him what the fuck is so funny like they’re concerned for his mental health 😭 and he’ll play into that shit too, just to keep hearing your laugh.

Levi Ackerman doesn’t know how to just say he’s missing you, so he’ll call you periodically to ask what you’re doing and then just listen to you breathe for about 20 seconds on the other line after you answer. He visits you every weekend, even if you’re hours away, he will take public transportation for you if he has to, and that’s saying something because he knows how filthy those buses/trains are. Once every few months he’ll take a whole week off to come stay with you, and he’ll probably try to straighten up around your place, pick up your groceries, cook dinner for you, water your plants, in your own home 😭. Literally morphes into your lil househusband for the week, and you have to be like No? Go sit down you’re literally my guest. Distance doesn’t mean shit to Levi. Where there’s a will there’s a way, he believes. The definition of “if he wants to he will” because he will. Every time.