#Armin Arlert | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chrollohearttags · 3 days ago

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makeup artist!armin…that is all 🫠

📝: black fem hairstylist!reader, friends to lovers, fluff to smut, praise, he’s also bi, alcohol use, switch!armin, choking, finger sucking, oral (a eating) missionary, cumshot, calls reader babe and my love

🎙️: I’m trying out something a lil’ different and trying to actually make my drabbles short so I hope y’all like it. Also I know like 3 of you might actually see this tonight but posting anyways bc I’m bored

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you never thought you’d see makeup artist!armin ever again..in the flesh at least. It’d been three years since you, him and twenty other attendees of one of the country’s most elite cosmetology schools had graduated as licensed beauticians. A majority of you had gone on to do extraordinary things with your newfound certifications…some working for prestigious salons, others starting their own businesses and continuing ones they were running illegally. But you and Armin? Leagues all on your own! Of course, the same could have been said when you were in school together. Seemingly attached at the hip and matching in both skills and wit. makeup artist!armin was naturally the talk among the class. The only male in a room full of gorgeous girls…chatting and keeping up with the conversations as if he were one of you. Offering advice on boyfriends and husbands, reciting the lyrics to every female rap song that played from the salon floor’s speakers as you all practiced balayage and full sets whilst the instructor watched. makeup artist!armin was a natural..able to analyze a face and turn anyone into the most beautiful version of themselves. Of course, it left much speculation on his orientation but when the question arose, his response was: “I like what I like, that’s all.”

with his fluffy blonde locks, warm blue eyes, scattered tattoos, including the pieces on his neck and hands…fingernails always donned with nail polish and sporting jewelry of some form, he was a dream. But it was him who was enamored with (y/n)..his girl to anyone who asked. Something you always figured to be a lighthearted inside joke, considering the number of empty, flirtatious passes you made at one another. Pretending to kiss, even allowing him to grasp your throat in the process because he’d only follow it up with some effeminate remark before you both broke into a laugh. “Armin moveee, you play too much.” “Babeee, c’mere. You didn’t have a problem last night. Why are you being mean to me?” But makeup artist!armin wasn’t interested in playing games anymore..especially when he saw you all over Instagram, going viral for your amazing work. Laying wigs, coloring, finger waves, silk presses..the works. You were the best of the best and people were dying to get a seat in your chair. Including an influencer with tons of followers and the money to burn, looking to get done up by the city’s finest for a club appearance. What you didn’t expect was the person traipsing behind her to be makeup artist!armin..looking even better than he had before!

“It’s been a while, my love. How are you? I see you look sexy as always.”

Hugging instantly as the excitement over took the both of you. makeup artist!armin couldn’t keep his eyes off of you as you styled the influencer’s hair, watching you two laugh and chop it up..joining in on the fun occasionally. Turns out he had been working with some notorious clientele, using his talents to earn quite a pretty penny and make a name for himself in the beauty sector. But the real conversation wasn’t done until after hours…when he’d finish up with your guest and you were closing up shop. The two of you would down some of the leftover shots you had with the client as part of her pregame whilst he decided to give you a complementary beat for old times sake…

talking about life and what it had been like since you left the academy. Divulging in juicy gossip about friends and old peers alike, work and what it was like having your entire catalogue on display for social media. Of course, what makeup artist!armin and yourself truly wanted to know was if there was a special someone around..

“Me? Nah, me and my ex been done. I don’t have time for dating..the money is my only love nowadays.”

“I feel that. All I do is work and go home.”

but he was hoping to change that last sentiment. Dressed in his black button down and slit jeans with silver bands on his fingers..he’d turn your face towards him as the guise of brushing on your highlight

“Y’know I really missed this, (y/n). I’ve been watching you and I’m so proud of what you’ve done. You’ve worked hard.” “Thank you, Armin..you’re always so sweet.” “Well duh, I’ve already told you, you’re my girl..”

makeup artist!armin couldn’t hold back any longer…bridging the gap of space between you two as the bright lights hung overhead. He'd confess that he’d thought about you everyday and wished that the two of you had kept contact. It was as if all of the sexual tension and feelings that the two of you had been harboring were just seconds from spilling over. Which only in turn led to you moving to the back of your salon, lips crashing together and tongues shoved into each other’s mouth as he mounted you onto a nearby countertop. Completely forgetting his masterpiece he’d painted on your face.

“Arminnn..”

“Shhh..it’s okay, babe. I know..you don’t have to tell me. I know you better than anyone.”

a statement that rang true when he’d pull you into a kiss yet again and clutch your throat as he’d done in a joking manner many times before. A movement they elicited a smile from you both.

“You still like that, huh? So nasty..”

“You said it..you know me better than anyone, baby.”

from your lips to your neck, he’d mark you with pecks, licking and nibbling at your ear as he whispered lecherous things; from how good you looked in the bodycon dress you were wearing to how he needed to hold it up while pounding you from the back..

“Mmmm..see, there you go playing wit’ me.”

“Spread your legs for me, baby and you’ll see how much I’m joking..”

leaving you with a heavy pat to the ass as he scooped you into his grasp and parted your thick thighs. Obviously much more fit than he was when you’d last saw him. makeup artist!armin tugged down the top of your dress, exposing your breasts as he planted a hand into your tummy..peeling your panties back with his teeth before diving into that dripping center. Wasting no time in lapping on your clit, gliding a finger or two in and sucking on your folds as if it were his first meal in months. He certainly was no stranger to eating pussy..regardless of everyone’s opinions on his sexuality!

“F-fuckkkk..Arminnn..” Pushing his head and shoulders back whilst still grinding on his mouth.

“I’m sorry, babe. What is it that you want? Because you’re realllly confusing me..do you want me to stop..or should I keep eating this little pussy until you come all over my face?” Laughing as he spat into your entrance and continued lapping. (Y/N)’s legs began to quiver, breath shallow and chest heaving as your eyes rolled back..you’d never felt anything remotely euphoric as this. He knew each of your spots, what made you tick and how to pleasure you. He navigated your body as well as an eyeshadow palette and like always, he wasn’t done until he was satisfied..

“Awww, babyy—don’t cry. I know it feels good but you’re gonna ruin your pretty makeup. Here..suck on my fingers.” That soft yet dominant taking over as he shoved two digits in your mouth. What followed was a trail of saliva and his tongue breaching your puckering lower entrance. Which nearly caused you to shoot through the roof.

“Look at that..now I’m in all your pretty holes, babe..I’ve waited so long to do this. Fuck..you taste amazing.”

you’d whimper and writhe around, grasping at the marble counters as that orgasm neared..he’d push those fingers in and out until splatters of warm juices hit his chin. “Sorry, my love..I hate to stop you but—” unbeknownst, he had been stroking himself through his boxers and was ready to let you get the real thing.

“If you want to come anymore, it’ll be on this dick. I really need to fuck you.” His voice was much deeper than before and you didn’t hesitate to let him inside. Pinning your legs back to the vanity, makeup artist!armin tapped that head and shaft against your folds before gently gliding in, keeping your eyes fixated on each other with his hand still around your neck. That fat cock splitting open your wet folds.

“Shit…your pussy’s so warm, babe. God, why’d you keep this from me?” But you were too in awe to answer..completely stuck on how big he was and how well he wielded it. Slowly stroking and rubbing your clit with the opposite hand. You were fixated on his gaze and sweet words, listening to him to praise you whilst he resided balls deep inside of you.

“Oh my gosh….’s so fucking big. Fucking me so good..” whimpering and barely able to fork coherent sentences. makeup artist!armin would chuckle softly as he watched it slide in and out, the bulge appearing when he sped up. “Damn, babe. I love this look on you…but I love even more how I look inside of you.” Pounding you into the vanity with his lips melded to yours.

“Ahhhh…yes, baby! Right there..’m gonna come.”

“I told you, if you want to, it’s gotta be on me.” makeup artist!armin would continue thrusting until he drew more splashes out of that cunt, making you squirt all over his torso and the countertop. It wasn’t long until he too was reaching his own climatic peak, burrowed over you with his face buried into the crook of your neck as he called out your name..whining about how badly he missed you.

“Oh God I missed you..I missed you so bad. Can I come for you, my love? Please? I’ve been so good..I waited all this time just for you..”

and it was no question that you’d welcome it..waiting patiently as he pulled out of you reluctantly. He’d spray those thick ropes of cum all over your tummy and even catch your face..

makeup artist!armin reveled in his latest and most prized creation yet. Laughing as those fluffy lashes swatted off remnants of his seed..droplets staining the glossy nude lip he’d just finished.

“I need a kiss after that. C’mere..” “Yeah, I agree.”

makeup artist!armin had long since dreamed of what he’d say and do once you guys reconnected. He was nervous, afraid that you’d reject his feelings but it was no longer a secret. That mounting love that had been festering inside of you both had exploded into a blaze of passion that couldn’t be extinguished any time soon. And now that he was back in your life, you’d never be apart again.

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fushiguruuzzzz · 2 days ago

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CHAPTER ONE . CYNEFIN

tags ; emotional turmoil, not proofread, entirety of this chapter was broken into a series of late night yapping

See: heartbreak on the mound

The clang of iron ringing throughout your kitchen was brash and unforgiving as it travelled down the hall, invading your unconscious senses and bringing you back to a noisy, cruel life. It didn’t take much smarts to guess that Sasha and Connie were up to something in the kitchen again, no doubt attempting to fulfill their irrational hunger so early in the day. If you listened closely, you could hear an annoyed groan coming from a barely-sleeping Jean in the next room.

Your eyes felt stiff as you pulled them open, barely willing yourself to resist the magnetic force pulling them shut. You blinked, bleary eyes adjusting to the light seeping in through your curtains as you processed the moment. A soft grumble left your cracked lips, and for a moment, that was the only noise. It was just you and the silky fabric of your bedding and the straps of your tank top falling down your shoulders, as if the chaos had all been a dream. But then there was another clang and a panicked shout and you were reminded that the mayhem was no sort of nightmare.

Your feet met the ground with a gentle groan, hoping to remain unnoticed by the other inhabitants of this zoo exhibit for a moment longer. Far from bothered enough to compose yourself, you padded into the hallway. The noise grew nearer, voices choppy and holding the rasp of a nights sleep as they shot back and forth.

“Look who decided to join us,” Jean quipped as you came into view, still sprawled haphazardly over your couch as he had been the night before. “You enjoying your peace and quiet? ‘Cause I didn’t.”

You quirked a brow, biting back an amused smirk as you advanced further into the common area of your home. Your eyes caught on Sasha and Connie, who were playing a game of tug with a frying pan. There was a smear of powder over Sashas cheek—pancake mix?

“You know, Jean, you don’t have to be here. You could like—sleep at your own place, maybe?” you said, feigning sincerity. He met your eyes, unamused, watching you roll the sleep from your joints.

“But what’s the fun in that?”

You rolled your eyes. Your friends had a way of retorting in a way so illogical that there wasn’t a way to defend it, by now you’d simply stopped trying. It was a battle of egos, one not worth shedding blood for. “Shouldn’t you be preparing for your game?”

He let out a long, drawled out sound of annoyance. “That’s not ‘till later. I’m gonna do well, anyway.”

Humble, isn’t he? You responded with a half hearted hum and moved to the plush chair nearest you, legs beginning to ache from the sudden adjustment in weight.

“Do we still have to go to that, Jean?” Connie cut in, momentarily pulling away from… whatever her and Connie were doing. She shook some baking mix from her hair and eyed him curiously, expression matching that of her grey haired companion.

Jean’s face pulled up in what looked to be an exaggerated form of offense. “Of course you have to go! That’s a given. You guys can drop out of literally anything but that.”

Jean is overly passionate and all too pushy about your attendance, and you’re holding in a groan because you know he’s only going to spend the entire time staring heart eyed into the crowd anyway. At the end of the day, though, he is your best friend. It’s not like your displays of affection are verbal nor are they physical—gentleness a foreign art yet to be learned by your worn hands, so you show up. That’s what you do.

You’ve never been secure in your love language. It wasn’t a lack of fondness stunting your tenderness, no, it was anything but. No matter how much the words to express it simmered inside, crawling up your throat and boiling over, they never spilled. They remained an agonizingly concealed whisper, damned to the confines of your mind and never to be released. So to make up for it, you were there. Always there. You forever lingered where it mattered, whether that be the peripherals or the kisscam, eyes shining with fondness and lenses itching to capture the memory. On late nights, you’d look back to them. Maybe, if your emotional constipation didn’t lead to your downfall, the group of you could reminisce over your college days shared for years to come.

And you’d be there.

So, you peeled yourself from the chair that had just started to feel right and trotted over to the washroom. It was a wordless action, nobody even bothering to ask, instead silently anticipating the squeak of the pipes and the beating of water on ceramic. You would not only be present, you would look half decent while you did it.

The water was hot against your back, searing your skin to ash and washing it down the drain. A sigh of relief left you at the feeling, shoulders decompressing and bones unwinding after the night's sleep had tied them in knots.

It took five minutes to shower, five hours to support your friends in the only way you could, and it was a never ending cycle that had been going on for five years. Yet, with all of these fives constantly surrounding you in a mocking serenade, your circle was made of four. There was a gaping hole in your heart. It beat for five—Sasha, Connie, Jean, yourself, and… and the soul of another who had yet to come by. Eyes that you didn’t know the colour of were ones you’d one day stare into and see the final bit of purpose, see what swirled within and know it was destiny. You hoped so, at least.

“y/n!” the sound of a sharp whine broke into the cage of your mind, sending your train of thought flying free in the wind. “You almost done?”

“Yeah,” you called, voice feeling oddly strained.

You left the washroom feeling unfulfilled. Your skin was clean and flushed from the heat, but your mind was crawling with the infectious bacteria that was your dwelling. But you didn’t have time for dwelling. You only had time for them.

Wake up. Be present. Capture. Click. Repeat.

The roar of the crowd was unfamiliar and suffocating, the simple act of weaving through webs of excited fans becoming treacherous and frantic with the addition of the invading noise. Everyone around you was buzzing with anticipation, the air nearly vibrating. You’d been to Jean’s games before, but this was different. This was the major league, not high school games at the park. There were probably thousands of people here, and yet somehow, they all seemed in their element. They all looked perfectly fitting for their seats in the bleachers, waving hats and banners alike. Every supportive shout knocked you further off your rocker, feeling your knees grow weaker with every step. You felt as if your moves were without purpose, the metal set of stairs you were descending from dipping beneath your feet and swallowing you whole. Not that anyone would notice if it did, anyway. Showing up didn’t seem to mean much when the population of a small town all did the same.

By the time you joined Sasha and Connie in the front row, the masses had quieted. Their cries had dimmed to murmurs, the energy easing in intensity just a smidge. Sinking into your chair—too busy trying not to jump out of your own skin to worry about the uncomfortable rub of the plastic—was, at least a bit, relieving.

“Took you long enough,” Connie spoke, muffled by the handful of popcorn stuffed into his mouth. The buttery fragrance swirled through the space between you and wafted into your nose, the way your stomach clenched in response a dull reminder of your choice to shower instead of eating this morning.

You reached into the bucket with a grumble, eyes barely catching on the large that Sasha had acquired personally. It was difficult to even bat an eye anymore. Generously, Connie tilted it toward you, and you barely missed the concern creasing deeply between his brows. Maybe he was less than bright, but he knew you. He knew that your quick mouth and blunt exterior was a barely-upheld front that you guarded yourself with, evident in the way you pushed yourself for the sake of one game. He knew that you wanted to, really, but he wished you’d learn to balance the love between yourself and your friends.

It seemed that the both of your minds had drifted away from the game at hand, only snapping back to the events within the atmosphere when the swift crack of ball against bat cut through the arena. Eyes immediately drawn to first base, everyone’s attention was captured on the brunette darting across the diamond.

Except for yours.

In the midst of your zoned out, half-intent watching, you’d noticed someone you found far more interesting at first glance. In the dugout, tucked behind a swarm of men in uniform was a head of golden hair. It shone against the overhead light like the sun itself, and although he stood lower than the rest, to you he seemed colossal.

You were stopped mid chew, eyes narrowing at an attempt to observe him through the glass. His features were soft and meek, like he belonged at home, baking banana bread and humming sweet tunes by the fireplace. He looked out of place, the way he eyed the scene before him nervously, but the figures surrounding him seemed completely at peace (both with his behaviour and their impending contributions). His shoulders were tense as though instead of spending hours swinging bats, he’d spent it hunched over a desk, pen in hand. He had the sad eyes of a poet.

Suddenly, those same vehemently dreary eyes were locking with yours. The world stopped spinning for a moment—the waving hands and clusters of people around you fading into slow moving assembles of the background. His lips parted, gentle and pink like a primrose, gaze boring into yours like he’d seen you a thousand times before. You couldn’t pull your eyes away out of the fear that if you did, you’d never get to find him again. This felt like a reunion of sorts, though it was the first meeting, and hopefully not the last.

Later, when you snapped pictures for the school paper, you couldn’t help but seek out his form in the sidelines. A new sort of excitement built in you at the thought of bringing that to life once again—coursing through your veins and shaking your fingertips as you delicately printed the photos.

Showing up to the next game had more purpose now. It wasn’t the chore required of you thanks to your inadequacy, it was hope. It was the faith in the return of your missing fifth, and that was enough to get you through the days between.

taglist: open

@estella-novella @lizbix @blu3-l0v3r @vi0let-writes @gumims @getovibesonly @tamishadawn @adoresia

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