#armin arlet

[aphrodeiities]

ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴꜰᴊ ᴀʀᴄʜᴇᴛʏᴘᴇ

↳ the sub-group archetype of the diplomats

INFJ

INFJ ⟶ introveted intuition, extroverted feeling, introverted thinking and extroverted sensing.

breaking down the archetype ⬎

♇ the archetype is made up of Ni Fe Ti and Se.

I = introverted.

N = intuition.

F = feeling.

J = judging.

 the first two functions that determine the INFJ TYPE CODE ⬎

Ni Fe Ti Se

♇ the Ni and Fe within the INFJ function makes up for the two missing letters in the middle of the type code: I _ _ J because the two missing letters in the middle are the first two functions!

♇ the Fe is the _ _ F _ because it is about extroverted feeling.

♇ the Ni is the _ N _ _ because it is about introverted intuition.

but what makes up the first letter in the code?

♇ what makes up for the first letter in the code is the second letter to the strongest function for the archetype. and the strongest function for INFJ is Ni and evidently the second letter is “I” which causes the function to now become from _ N F _ to I N F _ .

♇ but what makes up the last letter in the code?

♇ you’ll have to look back at the first extroverted archetype in the entire code. and for INFJ it is ⟶ Ni Fe Ti Se. the first extroverted function in the type is Fe, which is extroverted feeling.

♇ Fe belongs to the judging function which displays the fact that the last letter to I N F _ will be I N F J.

explaining the archetype ⬎

❦ INFJ people are very sensitive and aware of their surroundings. empathetic people who are artistic and usually are in their own world, they are considered as people who are good at trusting their own instinct, especially when they're at their worst point of their lives.

❦ they're motivated by what they imagine, being visionaries and great at seeing the potential of something. they're great at seeing the bigger picture and intricate details, they're like a scale and usually can see both sides of arguments.

❦ when people dont believe in them, they dont allow it to stop them from achieving their goals. INFJs are usually very charming and charismatic people, so getting people on their team is something that isnt difficult, they're persuaders and leaders. they think for themselves but also what can help the people around them.

❦ they are people who like peace, and can be the type o do anything to achieve it. harmony and tranquility is vital to them, but sometimes they can fall into the cycle of being people-pleasing and can become a walking mat if not careful enough.

❦ as they're people who can read the room easily, INFJ people can understand the nature of other people, and handle individuals who are more complex than the other.

DOMINANT Ni

its a function that's about perceiving, which involves unique takes and observations to the world around them. they're realistic and use it to set their direction. due to them being able to see different sides of things, it's easy for them to make intuitive links.

they're people who are inspiring, and have a lot of aspirations that make people adore them. they always want to have a goal to reach, a reason to live, a purpose. they're insightful and determined, like a bull charging towards people to get what they want.

they're tactful people, not irrational, so when they're excited and ardent about a goal, they make sure to not overlook hurdles that can come their way. but when they're underdeveloped, they can be unrealistic, delusional, and could be ungrateful with what life has to give them.

when it comes to other people, underdeveloped INFJs could put people on a higher pedestal very quickly.

INFJ'S AUXILIARY ⟶ Fe. [AUXILIARY HELPS GROWTH/HEALTHY OR DEVELOPED INFJ’S] ⬎

♱ when developed, they care for other people and not only themselves, they're considerate of the people around them are are aware of collateral damage. they're trusting of other people and can be very open-minded to ideas that aren't theirs.

♱ they set healthy walls and boundaries for themselves and other people. and in new scenarios and circumstances they can easily adapt into it, and become interactive with the people around them.

♱ they're a big people person and have a good comprehension about community, people and society.

WHEN INFJ’s BEHAVE INHIBITED ⬎

♇ underdeveloped INFJ's usually care about the opinions of other people too much, it could cause them to easily fall into other people's lies and manipulations. usually, it is due to a fear of being judged and hated, a strong dislike of being the black sheep.

♇ when they're dysfunctional, the lack normal boundaries and could want to be like others too much in order to relate to them, or have other people relate to them. they twist and bend themselves to fit into social norms.

♇ can become people who are very judgemental of others, because of what other people say about them, the epitome of judging a book by its cover. making them being considered as people who have terrible judgement.

♇ the type of people to not see how having self-destructive emotions and habits ruin their personal life. only believing what they think is true and dismisses other people's helpful opinions. when something goes wrong, they'd rather blame someone else rather than taking accountability.

♇ believe that they're self-aware but cannot express their true feelings or thoughts. due to this, they'd rather critique other people and focus on another person's flaw. the type to think they have good reason to do something but cannot express why they do, falling into very combative ways once questioned.

INFERIOR Se GRIP⬎

can be easily provoked, people might feel like they have to walk on egg-shells around them, but even if people are patient for them, they're not patient for other people. on the other hand, they can sometimes feel like they're a fly on the wall, which can sometimes make them become attention seekers.

self-destructive is something that would be evident when they're underdeveloped, and they could hurt the people around them; they can become hermits by separating themselves with society and obsessing over flaws and imperfections. and when questioned of their behaviour, they always want to justify it.

because they're always hyper-focused on flaws, they regret focusing on things that are insignificant. this is a trait of theirs that always wants to control everything, even if it's about physical exercise, cleaning or organising.

MORE INFJ EXAMPLES

GAME CHARACTERS

MONO, PRINCESS ZELDA, MARKUS MANFRED AND ROSALINA.

ANIME CHARACTERS

KONAN, ARMIN ARLET, SAILOR SATURN AND DEKU.

SHOW CHARACTERS

MICHAEL SCOFIELD, DAENERYS TARGARYEN, GLENN RHEE AND BONNIE BENNETT.

FILM CHARACTERS

ELSA, ESTHER COLEMAN, EDWARD CULLEN AND NINA SAYERS.

CELEBRITIES

KENDRICK LAMAR, MARINA, PENN BADGLEY AND ZENDAYA.

masterlist

[jjkeremika]

AoT men Vices

description: sex, drugs, cigarettes, and, well, you.

pairing: eren, armin, zeke, levi, reiner, jean (x fem!reader)

disclaimer/warning(s)?: stoner eren; oral(fem receiving); drinker zeke; groping; slutty levi; penetration; smoker reiner; rope play; gambler armin; fingering; jealous jean; choking; nsfwwwww

eren

• always high on weed/dabs/carts/edibles (doesn’t matter)

• his pale skin and green irises only accentuated the faint red tinge in the whites of his eyes, like a light blood splatter on american money

• hes tormented!! cut him a little slack. its not his fault his dad gave him the worst type ii bipolar disorder and narcissistic personality disorder a clinician’s ever seen

• gets horrendously horny when he’s high around you, starts touching and holding and kissing and biting you to get and keep your attention

• chews on his fingernails, jitters his legs, and licks and bites his lips as he stares at you, as he feels himself getting harder and harder at the thought of you getting wetter and wetter

• whines about how his throat is dry and he needs to taste you, to drink the liquid sliding out of you, until his tongue and jaw were cramping and his mouth was sore

• will pull you into his lap, gnaw on your shoulder and the lobe of your ear as his hands creep down your abdomen towards the source of the wet stain forming on his lap

• his voice lowers an octave as he begs to touch and taste you, as he asks if his hands and lips inching closer to your crotch is allowed and okay because he so desperately craves your approval

• “oh, baby, please, baby, only you can fix my dry mouth with your wet, pretty fucking pussy, god, baby, please, i’m so thirsty”

• moans so fucking loud when you finally give in and let him lick your clit, his fingers eagerly digging into your thighs as he pulls you so, so much closer, until there’s no air between his mouth and your skin

• devolves into demanding that you ride his face, hop and slide on his mouth with your shiny thick thighs with absolutely no hesitation, no regard for his lungs

zeke

• sad king who drinks most nights

• a gin and tonic or scotch on the rocks kind of man. likes the burn at the back of his throat on the way down

• confessed a similar reason to why he swims; liking the burning ache in his lungs when he holds his breath under the water. reminds him he’s alive

• has a poor relationship with his parents and half-brother. wants and sometimes tries to reconcile but he’s not really a people-person and he struggles to forgive

• divulges to you about his neglected dreams and pile of regrets, over analyzes situations until it all feels hopeless and meaningless

• holds you closer and tighter, at first because he’s fighting tears but then because he’s overcome with pure devotion because you’re here, with him, comforting him, every time

• and he’s certain you have so many other places you could be and more interesting people you can be with and yet you’re holding him too

• tells you that you mean the world to him, that he’s hopeless without you, that you give him something to smile and dream about, that he’d be nothing without you

• he’ll hold your wrists behind your back with one large hand and hold your neck with the other, prying your lips apart and re-introducing your tongues to each other, like he does every other night

• his hands roam as you kiss, his fingernails lightly tracing the goosebumps on your skin to the tail of your spine, the other hand following the curves of your ribcage to where your breast naturally interrupted

• “oh, i love your body, i live to please you, i live for you,” he’ll murmur for the thousandth time against your tongue as his long fingers clasp around your fleshy boob, squeezing with a fearful hold that you’ll pull away and leave him like everyone else

levi

• sex. with you. a lot.

• he doesn’t talk about his feelings or explain his emotions. there are no conversations about his past and his future. they all start one sided, and end in sex

• it’s a cop out. he knows it, you know it, but it’s so fucking good you don’t really care

• every time you try to ask about his family, his friends, his career, or even if he thinks there’s a future between you two, he’s avoiding the question and shoving his tongue down your throat

• he keeps his hand around your neck as he kisses you insistently, as he tries to kiss you until you’re dizzy and you forgot that he was trying to distract you in the first place

• gets needy and wanting, turning you around, stripping you, and bending you over before you could say a word

• impatient and selfish. he drops some lube into his palm and slicks his own cock up, shoving two or three fingers in you for short, to-be-desired thrusts before he’s gasping over you and inching the tip to your exposed muscles

• he chortles airily at the hearty moan you release once he presses inside, the euphoria encompassing his dick and shipping through his bloodstream

• he practically bends you in half, arranging you so he’s pounding into your pussy with your ass presented to his face and your own face shoved into a pillow, mascara and eyeshadow staining into the sheets at the growing desirable ache in your abdomen

• smacks your ass until his handprint is visible as he relentlessly shoves himself inside you, as he gives you every inch of muscle control and strength he has

reiner

• chronic cigarette smoker

• built balcony and patio attachments to your house so he could easily step outside

• you watched him build them shirtless and sweaty, a lighter tucked loosely in his low cut pant pockets and a cigarette lightly held behind his ear

• tries his best to cover the sour tobacco smell with rustic vanilla or mahogany colognes. up for debate when it worked, but the mix of scents really could be oddly pleasant sometimes

• he’s haunted by regrets he won’t even tell you about. doesn’t want to burden you, or rather burden himself with the knowledge that then you’d know too, and there really would be no running away

• you could see them as shadows behind his glassy eyes, always lingering when the lights were on and engulfing him in the dark

• you took it upon yourself to lift his moods, to break him free from the thought patterns that kept him chained to his lot in life

• brought the metaphor to life and bought handcuffs and rope, tied and locked his ankles and wrists to the bedposts, his vulnerability on full display

• his whole body was blushed pink as you gingerly caressed him, crawled up and down his rigid muscular body and ran your sharp fingernails and tongue down his center

• you reminded him he was chained down when he abruptly reached up and out for you, his wrists aggressively slapping back against the mattress or his legs threatening to break the post with fast squirms

• like a wolf chasing after a rabbit, reiner huffed and drooled over you and the sexy shapes you made with your hips as you wiggled all over him, grinded against him and relished in the whines and begs to be released from his holds and touch you

armin

• first got into gambling when eren convinced him to go to a casino for his 21st birthday

• and while the huge crowds and loud noises and overstimulating lights originally raised his anxiety, the adrenaline and excitement of playing and winning won out

• tried to quit a few times but always found his way back to gambling and betting

• card game aficionado. loves the tactile nature of it, always plays with the corners of the cards with his fingertips. sometimes you catch him shuffling and playing cards in his free time at home

• poker is easily his favorite, especially because he can read people like a book. you could never lie to or hide from him

• refuses to say it’s an addiction. it’s more of an intricate hobby, or a challenge he has to bet his way out of

• the worst part is he’s actually pretty good at it and wins more than seventy percent of the time. but when he loses, he loses and he obsesses over it for days

• during good streaks he buys you expensive knickknacks and trinkets and blankets and jewelry, takes you out to dinner more frequently

• feels extra confident when he’s on a hot winning streak, buying you lingerie and telling you to wear it, to turn it into a show for him in the bedroom with him sat on the bed and the lights on

• his hot hands and cold metal rings needily grasp at your sides, his wet tongue caressing the lacy line where the lingerie met your cleavage

• he’ll get impatient, too turned on with your dance to contain himself so he’ll pull you onto his hard erection and bite the nape of your neck to hold you in place

• he’ll stand up and turn you over, hover over you as the mattress shapes to your curves and armin’s hands follow

• loves fingering you with three to four fingers, his eyes doubling in size as he watches your muscles stretch and encompass the appendages. has to clutch the base of his dick like a cock ring to prevent himself from cumming at the site and at the warm, blankety feeling

• sometimes likes to be a bit cheeky and not take his rings off, letting the rings escape inside your opening and feeling it slide toughly against his skin in contrast to your so soft, so sensitive, so inviting body

• the cool metal of his rings was always enticing, and you always gasped heartily and physically thrived at the hard cold material inside

• “oh, shit, baby, i think my ring came off inside you,” he tells you calmly with a wide premeditated smirk, his fingers going limp inside you, “let me just get it out real quick”

• he’ll poke and prod and fold his fingers against your tissue as the ring moves loosely inside you, as you feel yourself building to an inescapable high with armin’s cheeky smirk between your legs as the ring just so happens to keep slipping from his grasp

jean

• jealous jeanyyyyyy

• glares at other men as they talk to you, even if it’s something as innocent as asking for directions or for a petition signature

• usually steps between you and the offending man, escalates the situation beyond necessity by antagonizing the man and firmly demanding an apology for wasting your time

• his blood just boils like hot water in a kettle when he sees you with someone else, someone that’s not him but it should be

• has issues sharing, so there was no way in hell you were slipping out of his attention, and he’s arrogantly insecure, to the excess point that you should only see and talk to him. he’s all you should need right?

• when he saw you calmly talking to eren he flipped his lid, said fuck it to the world and interrupted the conversation

• brings you to the nearest private (i.e., empty and lockable) room and pushes you against the wall or door, his hand firmly locking around your neck

• his hands were so large your whole neck was covered. his fingers were so long the tips touched at the back. his grip was present and firm, and maybe a bit threatening

• “do i speak another language to you? am i on another fucking planet so far you can’t even hear me?”

• he’ll slap the wall next to your ear with his open palm, smirk as you jump from surprise at the sudden outburst

• he leans closer to your ear, the pressure of his hand against your windpipe slightly increasing, his wet hot tongue flicking against your sensitive exposed ear

• “do i need to teach you another lesson?” another light squeeze. “on how to behave?”

[asciendo]

Resurgence of the Founding

Summary: Eren Jaeger is resurrected centuries after the Rumbling, only to find the world still in turmoil, with Eldians oppressed and Marleyans in control. The Jaegerists ask for his help in protecting their people, but there’s a catch: Eren must be bethrothed and father an heir with the power to end the cycle of Titans once and for all.

content: eren jaeger x female reader

Warning: smut, violence, swearing

Chapters: Chapter 2/Chapter 3/Chapter 4/ Chapter 5

Eren Jaeger suddenly felt warm. He felt heat on his skin, the sweat on his brow. After so long of nothing, of ice cold nothingness, he felt the warmth of his breathing across his chest. 

It’s been centuries after he passed, after the end of the rumbling that caused mass destruction. After his death, he felt nothing. Absolutely nothing but he remembered everything. Paradis, the titans, his friends…her. Everything. He wondered what happened after he died and what kind of lives his friends lived after. If the path he carved in blood and destruction led to something better, or had it only left them adrift, lost like he was now? These questions burned brighter than the newfound warmth, tethering him to the weight of his past, even as the world moved on without him.

The stinging sensation of bright light pierced through his closed eyelids, forcing them to flutter open in protest. For a moment, everything was a hazy blur—shapes and shadows shifting around him like a dream half-remembered. He blinked rapidly, his vision struggling to adjust, and slowly, the indistinct murmurs around him sharpened into words. Voices—unfamiliar and fragmented—filled his ears, each one tinged with curiosity and urgency.

His head throbbed as awareness seeped in, and his gaze focused. The blurry figures took form: people in sleek attire, some pointing at glowing devices in their hands, others exchanging quick glances. They surrounded him, a mix of caution and excitement etched across their faces. He squinted, finally taking in the world beyond them.

Towering buildings stretched high into the sky, their façades shimmering as if made entirely of transparent, reinforced glass. Light danced along their surfaces, reflecting the brilliance of a city alive and gleaming. 

“He’s awake.” he heard one of the voices announce and the crowd around him began to stir. He blinked once more, trying to make sense of his surroundings as he slowly stood up. 

“Eren Jaeger?” A tall man in a long coat stepped forward. Eren continued to look around at the people surrounding him, no one looked familiar to him at all. 

“Eren Jaeger, is that you?” the man asked again and Eren just stared at him in confusion. “We did it.” another voice whispered next to the man. 

“We-we brought you back. We really did…” The man whispered and Eren froze. 

“Brought me back from where?!” Eren yelled and everyone stiled. 

“Back to life.” The man said, proud. Eren’s head started spinning and he scanned the crowd. They all stared at him in awe. 

“Who are you?! WHY DID YOU BRING ME BACK?!” Eren marched forward and the crowd stepped back in fear. 

“Lucian…start talking.” A small woman next to the tall man, who Eren now knows is called Lucian whispers. 

“W-we’re Jaegerists. Centuries after the rumbling, we still believe in Eldian liberation. Y-you see..it’s happening again. Our people…are suffering…because of those fucking Marleyans. My ancestor predicted it would happen again, even after your great sacrifice and it has…We–I brought you back because…we need you to fight with us.” Lucian finishes and Eren’s eyes widen. 

It’s happening again, what he tried so hard to stop, is happening again. He took a step back and looked at his hands. How much more blood would he have to spill again? 

Eren’s heart raced as the weight of their words hit him. His body felt heavy, his thoughts a turbulent mess. The familiar ache of guilt, regret, and loss surged within him. Mikasa, Armin, Historia—everyone—gone. The world he fought for, the bloodshed he caused, and the people he failed… he had lived with that pain for so long. And now, to be thrown back into a world that had moved on without him, to face the same fight, the same battle, was too much. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t go back.

“I don’t care,” he muttered, his voice low and cold, a familiar detachment creeping in. “I’m done. I don’t owe you anything.” His gaze swept over the Jaegerists, their desperate faces pleading with him. “You should send me back… to where I belong.”

Lucian stepped forward, his eyes pleading, his voice earnest. “Please, Eren, listen to us. You don’t understand. Our people are still suffering. The Marleyans have created new titans, they’ve kidnapped our families, they’ve turned them into monsters. And we, we need you. You’re the only one who can stop this. Only you can wield the Founding Titan’s power, only you can undo this nightmare. It’s all been prophesied. You have to help us.”

A woman from the crowd, her voice trembling, added, “My brother, my father—they’re Titans now. We can’t save them… but you can. You can bring them back. You can make it all stop.”

Eren’s eyes narrowed as their words sank in. His fists clenched at his sides, his breath coming in short bursts. Why? he thought. Why would they drag me back into this mess? I’ve already fought, I’ve already lost everything.

Yet, despite himself, something inside him stirred. The thought of his people, the thought of his family members turned into Titans, brought a cold fire into his chest. I couldn’t save them before… could I do it now?

His mind flashed back to the memories of his time on Paradis, the battles, the faces of those who fought alongside him. Mikasa, Armin, Levi... all gone. Would they have wanted me to fight again? He clenched his eyes shut, trying to push the thoughts away.

"You don't get it," he growled, voice breaking. "I tried. I tried to stop the cycle, to stop this endless suffering. I couldn’t even save my own friends. And you want me to go through it again? To stain my hands with more blood? For what? So you can carry on the same fight that took everything from me?"

Lucian’s expression softened, as if he understood the weight of Eren’s words. But his determination didn’t waver. “We know the cost, Eren. But we’ve seen the truth. We know that only you can end this. The Founding Titan’s power—it’s in you. You can stop the suffering, you can bring peace. You don’t have to do this alone, but you have to do it.”

Eren’s heart thundered in his chest as he looked at the faces surrounding him—desperate, pleading. But his mind was clouded with the suffocating weight of his past actions. He had brought ruin to so many, caused so much pain. How could he live with himself if he brought that same destruction once again?

A bitter laugh escaped him, as the image of his friends' faces flashed before him. “I don’t deserve their sacrifice. I don’t deserve any of it.”

"But you are their sacrifice," Lucian replied softly, the words like a dagger to his heart. "And it’s not just about you anymore. It’s about all of us. We need you, Eren. We can end this. You can end it."

Eren stared at him for a long moment, his thoughts tangled. He didn’t know if he could ever forgive himself for what he had done. But could he stand by and let more people suffer? Could he truly remain indifferent when he was the only one with the power to stop it?

The weight of their desperation, the lives of those still trapped in this never-ending cycle of war, pressed down on him. His hands trembled. Could he still be the person who made a difference?

Finally, with a resigned sigh, Eren lowered his gaze. “Fine,” he said quietly. “But don’t expect me to save you. Don’t expect me to be a hero. I’m doing this for them… and for the world we lost. Not for you.”

The crowd smiled and cheered which made Eren even angrier, they were basically celebrating bloodshed. 

“Come with me, I’ll explain everything.” Lucian said, and led Eren to a mansion  on the side of the road. Eren looked around and despite how different his surroundings looked, he felt a sense of familiarity. 

“Is this–” 

“Wall Maria. It still stands.” Lucian said. 

“What is this place?” Eren whispered. 

“This is Eldra Nova. What Paradis is now, where the Marleyans are keeping those who are descended from the Eldians. Much like before.” 

They entered the mansion and was greeted by high ceilings and gothic architecture. “This was built a few years after the Rumbling, thankfully it was not destroyed and we were able to see a piece of the old Paradis.” 

The house did look familiar to Eren in terms of architecture and he felt pang in his chest. 

Lucian led him to a farther room, which Eren could deduce was the dining room and sat, Eren sat in front of him. 

Lucian took a deep breath, his eyes heavy with the weight of the truth he was about to reveal. He lowered his voice, as if afraid the walls themselves might hear, and Eren leaned forward, his pulse quickening with a mix of anger and curiosity.

“The Marleyans... they’ve been toying with artifacts from Ymir. Old relics, things they never fully understood,” Lucian began, his gaze darkening. “After the Rumbling, we thought it was over, that the Titans were finally gone for good. But they didn’t stop. They found pieces of her, things from before the Founding Titan was lost. They thought they could control it, that they could use it to make weapons. They’ve been experimenting on Eldian artifacts for years—trying to awaken something new, something powerful.”

Eren clenched his fists, feeling the anger rising in his chest. “And now they’ve unleashed the mindless Titans again? You mean to tell me they’ve brought this hell back upon us?”

Lucian nodded grimly. “Yes. They’ve triggered a resurgence. But the worst part is, they still haven’t fully awakened the other Nine Titans. The mindless Titans—they’re nothing but shells. But the power of the Founding Titan, the power of the other Nine... it hasn’t manifested fully yet, and the Marleyans know it. They’ve used the Eldians—those who were turned into Titans—as weapons, blaming them for the destruction they themselves caused. They call us the cause of all this suffering, but they’re the ones who manipulated everything.”

Eren’s voice cracked as he stood abruptly, his fists trembling at his sides. “They caused this! They did this, and now they’re using our people as weapons? How dare they! We fought to stop this, to end the curse, and now this—this horror is back again because of them.”

Lucian’s expression was resolute. “I know, Eren. I know. And it’s because of that we need you. We can’t let them keep using the Eldians this way. They’re using our own people as pawns in their war while blaming us for the destruction they’re causing. But... there’s more. They’ve been developing new weapons from our resources—working with whatever remnants of Ymir’s power they can find.”

Eren felt his heart sink, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. “What do you want me to do? If what you’re saying is true… what needs to be done? Do you want me to do what I did before? Just… slaughter them all?”

Lucian hesitated, then shook his head. “To an extent, yes. But there’s something more. One thing we need that we didn’t have before: an heir.”

Eren’s brow furrowed in confusion. “An heir? Why?”

Lucian’s voice softened, almost as if he was trying to make Eren understand something he himself hadn’t fully accepted. “The offspring of the Founding Titan, combined with the blood of an Eldian… they’re the key to reversing the curse. The child born of that union will have the power of a new Titan—a Titan with the power to undo the transformations of those who have already been turned. The power to heal them.”

Eren froze. “You want me to… what? Create a child?” His voice was raw with disbelief. “I’m not doing that, Lucian. Never. I’ve seen what it costs. I’ve seen what happens when Titans are used like that, when bloodlines are manipulated to create monsters.”

Lucian’s eyes softened with regret. “I know, Eren. I know it’s a hard ask. But... you have to understand. This is our last chance. The Marleyans have locked us here, using our people as weapons. They’re creating new weapons from our resources. We’re being trapped in a cycle we can’t break without that child. You’re the only one who can stop this, and you’re the only one who can bring that child into the world. It’s the only way to end this.”

Eren slammed his hands on the table, his anger flaring like a wildfire. “How do you know this? How do you know all of this? How do you know about this... child?”

Lucian sighed, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the truth. “Because my family—my bloodline—they’ve known about Ymir’s legacy for generations. We’ve kept the records, the old writings. My grandfather was a scholar who spent his life researching Ymir’s power, tracing her bloodline, studying the Titans and the curse. He knew the truth. He knew that the Founding Titan’s blood could give birth to something new—something that could reverse the curse. I’ve seen his journals. This has been passed down in my family for centuries.”

Eren sighed heavily, slumping back into his chair as a weight settled on his chest. How could he even fathom being with anyone other than Mikasa? Despite everything that had happened, it was still her. He could still see her clearly in his mind—her almond-shaped eyes, the raven-black strands of hair that framed her face, her fair complexion, and the familiar red scarf she always wore around her neck. The memories of her, so vivid and constant, felt like an ache he could never escape.

“I know this is a lot to ask, but—”

“I’ll do it,” Eren interrupted, his voice sharp. Lucian paused, surprised by the quick response, but relief flooded his face almost immediately.

“Thank you, Eren… I knew bringing you back was the right choice. I’ll make sure everything is in place for you.”

Eren stood up, his fists clenched at his sides, feeling the weight of his decision settle on him. “You better. I didn’t come back to play their game.”

Lucian nodded solemnly, then hesitated before speaking again. “There’s one more thing. We’ve already… chosen women for you. You can take your pick.”

Eren’s stomach churned at the thought. His eyes darkened as he looked at Lucian. “Chosen women? You want me to pick like they’re objects?”

Lucian winced at the harshness of Eren’s tone but held his ground. “I know it’s not ideal, but we have to do this. It’s necessary for what’s coming. You’ll need an heir, Eren. And we’re trying to make this process as… manageable as possible.”

Eren’s fists tightened, his jaw set. The idea of choosing someone like that, reducing them to nothing more than a vessel, repulsed him. But he knew, deep down, that he had no choice. His resolve was all that kept him from shattering. He took a slow breath, forcing himself to swallow the bitter lump in his throat.

Lucian noticed the strain in his expression and nodded. “This is your home, by the way,” he said, gesturing to the mansion around them. “Get some rest. I’ll leave you to your thoughts for now.”

Eren nodded without saying anything, and Lucian bowed, then quietly exited the room. Eren was left alone in the silence, his mind racing with the enormity of what he had agreed to.

I know it's a bit long but just wanted to give a good introduction to the story, will be introducing y/n in the next chapter. :) Please let me know if you want to be on the tag list

[slaughtame]

Armin and Mikasa 😍🙏❤️

And there’s… Eren, he’s definitely there!…..

[kapkant7]

Warning: REAL

Every squad got the:

[erwinsarmrest]

listen to me i don’t really ship eren and armin but i certainly see the appeal and i can see where they’re coming from

and let me tell you. the new episode? i actually thought they were gonna kiss i swear to god. saying shit like “it’s okay. we’ll be together forever in hell” and then both of them moving in for a hug SO FAST i though they were about to make out

[kanekisfavoritegf]

Best Friend Armin

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI you will be blocked!🩷

Best Friend Armin can’t help but stare at you sitting on your boyfriend, Eren’s, lap on the other side of the crowded party.

Best Friend Armin feels himself get painfully hard when you lock eyes with him as Eren busies himself with giving you a hickey in front of everyone.

Best Friend Armin would find himself in the bathroom with you crying on his shoulder, as you tell him you just caught Eren making out with some random girl.

Best Friend Armin Would laugh at your hypocrisy. Saying how you shouldn’t be crying about him cheating when Eren has no idea about you running straight to your best friend’s dick whenever Eren does something to piss you off.

Best Friend Armin Would whisper into your ear, asking if you remembered the night he took your virginity.

Best Friend Armin Would ask if Eren still thinks he’s the one who got to take your innocence.

Best Friend Armin Would make sure to keep you quiet as he pushed his cum covered cock into you for the fourth time that night, sticking his fingers into your mouth and forcing you to suck. 

Best Friend Armin Would laugh in Eren’s face after being accused of fucking you. Saying, “Of course I did. Someone had to.” As he played with your purity ring that dangled on a chain around his neck. A souvenir that he collected a week prior to the day you let Eren fuck you under the impression that it was your first time.

[kingkonoha]

*•.¸♡ WHEN YOU’RE JEALOUS ♡¸.•*

➙ aot smau ft. eren, armin, jean, & connie

—

EREN YEAGER

ARMIN ARLERT

JEAN KIRSTEIN

CONNIE SPRINGER

—

♡ thanks for reading!

♡ don’t forget to like, reblog, & comment!

[arminhug]

lame first dates || armin arlert x reader

read it on ao3 here!

synopsis: on a warm spring day outside, your close friend armin tells you his ideal first date. if only it could be you on that date…

notes: gn! reader, friends to lovers, one-shot, mad fluff, loosely implied college! au if you really squint, armin and reader being bookworms, just some cute friends to lovers with a healthy dose of awkwardness, also you're vegetarian in this bc i couldn't think of another way to make cooking for someone more awkward, but this is only alluded to once

song rec: bleached by video days

。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

“That’s lame!”

He blinks at me, doe eyes wide and brows furrowed in almost comical confusion. Blinks again. Pushes his hands back into the plush grass. “How is it lame?” he inquires.

“Why did you agree to get coffee as a first date if caffeine makes you anxious? God, as if first dates aren’t already stressful enough!”

“Look, okay!” Armin is grinning, and I breathe out in relief, knowing I have not actually upset him. His animate face is bridled by the April sunshine, and I am struggling to take my eyes off him. Oh God, am I staring? I hope I’m not staring. “They were really pretty. I mean, out of my league pretty. I was in no position to start negotiating.”

“Why not? There’s nothing wrong with both having input in a first date. If anything it’s telling.”

“How?”

“If they get angry at you for negotiating the date, that’s a red flag.” I say definitively.

“Well, that’s you,” Armin emphasises, lying back into the grass. His left hand rests lazily against his button nose to shield out the clear sky. “You’re more assertive than me. I was just thrilled they actually wanted to go on a date me.”

“So where did that go?” I ask tentatively.

“It didn’t work out. We went on a few dates, but they told me it just wasn’t clicking. That’s fair enough, I guess, but I still felt… bad. Like I obviously wasn’t good enough for them. Why would I be?” he turns to me, pursing his lips. “Sorry, I know I’m being a little melodramatic.”

“No, I get it. I mean, you definitely are good enough. But you’re always gonna feel shitty after being rejected.”

“Yeah.”

“So, when was this? I don’t remember you seeing somebody.”

“Start of the year. But it was a few dates, not a wedding plan. I just don’t feel the need to broadcast if I’m going on a couple of dates to the entire group. Unless they ask, of course.”

“Well,” I start, meeting his eyes with a smile. “I was expecting at least a little change in behaviour, surely? Maybe a spring in the step, a little bit more energy, high on life and love and all that jazz?” I enunciate with a flair of my hands.

“Not really. Maybe that was telling that there was nothing there. After all, the dates were all standard… kind of awkward at times, but like I said, I was grateful somebody that pretty desired me.”

I’m trying not to cringe at how much he is saying this person is attractive. Seriously Armin, I get it. They were a god of aesthetic desire, no need to rub it in. Change the subject, I tell myself, teeth on my bottom lip. “Define standard dates.” I state.

“Oh, you know… dinner, a movie, coffee shops. I like the time I spend to be more imaginative and personal.”

“So what’s an imaginative date, then? What’s the ideal first date for you?”

Armin groans emphatically, shaking his head. “If you think coffee shop is lame, you are going to hate my ideal first date.”

“Bet I won’t,” I shoot back, leaning forward.

“Well,” he starts, then immediately rolls over, hiding his face with a groan, which is so cute it makes me want to burst. “You are seriously going to think I’m so lame!”

“I could never think you are lame, Arlert! I only thought the idea of you going to spike your anxiety levels on a generally very anxiety inducing conquest was lame, that’s all. Tell me!” I emphasise the last two words with a tentative shake of his shoulder, a feather light touch, hoping the contact will get him to open up.

“Fine! My ideal date is a day like this. Sometimes I imagine it at the beach, but we live nowhere near one, and they’d be busy anyway. I want a quiet spot in nature, somewhere me and my date can be alone–”

“Ooh, you’re gonna get freaky!” I jibe.

“Not like that!” his head shoots up, and as I suspected, his cheeks are already slightly flushed. Although I tease him about it, I find how easily he goes red to be one of his sweetest quirks. “I just want somewhere we– my date and I– would have some quiet.”

“Interesting, so we’d– you’d find somewhere like this,” I motion to the undisturbed corner of grass we have secured on the green, where fronds of tallgrass and milkweed encircle our undisturbed patch of greenery against young trees. The picnic bench, heavy with peeling green paint and student graffiti dating back years, is unused by us as we opt for the floor to vantage the serene lake. “Why do you need quiet?” I continue, genuinely wanting to know more.

“Well, yeah, here would be an ideal location. It’d just be nice to have the solitude, I guess. Plus, I’d bring a picnic–”

“Oh my God!”

Armin buries his face once more. “See? I knew you’d think it’s lame!”

“No, no! That’s so cute! I would never forget it if somebody made me a picnic,” I sigh dreamily, lying down next to him with just enough space between us for it to not seem flirtatious. As much as I want to flirt, to let him know how lovely I find him, I can never quite gauge if it would be reciprocated. He’s currently one of my closest friends; if he’s not willing to take it any further, I would rather let the feelings die, albeit painfully, on their own, and resume our friendship, rather than make him uncomfortable. The trouble is, Armin is painfully shy. If there is anything between us, he does a great job of hiding it, and judging by the recounts of people always asking him out, I wonder if he would ever make a move on me even if he did feel the same way.

“So nobody’s ever made you a picnic? I find that hard to believe.” he mumbles, peeking one eye towards me behind messy tufts of honey blonde hair and daisies.

“No, they have not!” I state dramatically, crossing my arms. “I got cooked dinner once, but they made it with meat. I literally told them I didn’t… hang on, what do you mean it’s hard to believe? Am I royalty who deserves picnics made for them on every date I go on?” A beat passes from my inquiry, and my heart skips. While only meaning it as a joke, I am more curious than ever to know what he is thinking right now.

“I just find it surprising that someone like you… I mean, it’s just weird. I thought you would have been taken on a lot of lovely dates.”

“Not really, actually. There’s been some nice ones, but none that I’ll remember for the rest of my life. Anyway, enough about my dates, I want to hear more about this ideal picnic first date!”

“Okay, so I’d prepare a picnic. Nothing too extravagant, just some berries, sandwiches. Maybe I’d make some cookies, or maybe ask if there’s anything they’d like to bring along. Before we arrived, I’d ask them to bring their favourite book, and I’d bring mine. Then, after we got comfortable, we’d swap books and read. I think it’d just be a lovely way to get to know the other person. You can tell a lot about a person by their favourite book.”

Oh my God. He’s so cute. I can’t stop myself smiling, instantly fantasising about how much I want to be the person who he takes on this picnic date.

“Your silence speaks volumes.” he shoots, his voice muffled.

“Armin!” I shout, louder than intended. “If somebody did that for my first date, I’d ask for their hand in marriage. That’s such a romantic idea! My silence is speaking the volumes of ‘holy shit, I wish I could have a first date like that’.”

“You think so?”

“Yes! You could get anyone you wanted if you planned that as a date. You should ask the next person you find cute what their favourite thing to bring on a picnic is, you'll be married by the end of the day." I assert hyperbolically.

“I seriously can’t asking people out. If I could… well.” he falters, furrows his brow and sighs. “Hey, what’s your favourite book?”

My body shoots full of adrenaline. Is he coming on to me? Or am I reading way too much into this? That's got to be a come on, right?

“Well, I have a few favourites, but the best I’ve read recently is Circe by Madeleine Miller.”

“Oh!” he exclaims with the sweetest grin, his eyes wide. “I loved Song of Achilles, but I never got round to Circe.”

Shoot your shot, shoot your shot, shoot your shot. I cannot stop my mind running, daring to ask if he’d like to read it, insinuating the date.

“What’s your favourite?” I enquire. I decide to test the waters. “What book would you bring to this picnic date… if I brought Circe?” Was that a bit too much testing of the waters? Oh, God. He shrouds his head with his bare arms, and I am weighing up whether this is because I’ve pushed it too far or if he’s blushing.

“Uh… well I have a lot of favourites, like you. But I’d most likely bring Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood. It’s something I read when I was young, much too young to fully understand the depth of the nuances, but it always stayed with me. As I got older, I reread it over and over and I was more immersed each time. It’s one of her best works, I’d even say it’s on the level with The Handmaid’s Tale.” During his rambles, he pokes his head up, clearly lost in the world of the book he describes to me. That’s when I am shot through with another course of adrenaline, desperately fighting any visible tells of excitement. He is blushing!

“Huh,” I muse. “Not read that one, only The Handmaid’s Tale and The Testaments.”

“So… we’ve both not read each other’s favourite books, huh?” he says quietly, pushing himself up onto his forearms and turning his head. He begins to bend his fingers against each other. I am absentmindedly biting my thumbnail, wondering if either of us might ask.

Fuck it.

“Um… no hard feelings if not–”

“It’s fine if you don’t want to, but–”

We both start in unison. Pause. Make direct eye contact.

“You go.” Again, in unison, before laughing nervously.

“Seriously, you can go first!” I gesture, wondering if he will really ask me.

He shakes his head shyly. “You go.”

“Well… if you’re going to ask what I think you are, then I want to hear you say it!” I tell him.

“So, what do you think I’m going to ask?”

“If you wanted to do that date together!” I blurt, then reel. Oh, that sly bastard. He’s gotten me to say it first.

“Yeah… I’d like that, (y/n).”

“Okay, cool.” I respond, internally smacking myself. Okay, cool? Who says okay, cool? “I mean,” I rectify, fidgeting. “That’d be really nice. When? Is here okay? Wait, I’m totally rambling, aren’t I? Sorry, I just…”

“No it’s okay! I… I was nervous too. Are you free tomorrow? Or is that too soon–”

“No, not too soon! What about a time?

“Noon okay? I mean, it doesn’t have to be, but–” We are both stumbling over words, rebuttals, speaking quickly and correcting ourselves on our own words. But we are also both grinning uncontrollably. I sigh, taking a moment.

“Noon would be great. Would you like me to bring anything? Drinks, or snacks?”

“Well, I can take care of sandwiches and fruits. If you could bring any drinks you like or some other small snacks, that’d be lovely.”

“No problem! But I have one question… are you really going to make me cookies?”

Armin exhales through his nose, shaking his head. Then he does something uncharacteristically bold; takes my hand and squeezes it briefly.

“For you, I think I can do that.”

[saclaire]

they look great ❤️

[woodle-isbae]

Lazy day

Armin x Blk!Reader

Warnings : dry humping , not proofread , everyone is still fully clothed , sub armin? , smut

Enjoy 💕

◇

A nice Saturday afternoon, just you and Armin , cuddled together on the couch as you guys watched TV , nothing to exciting

"I'm so bored baby.."He groaned , face hidden between your breasts and arms wrapped around your waist

"Mhmm.."you simply hummed , actually invested in the show playing .

After a while you felt him shifting on you ,but decided to ignorebit until he wouldn't stop

"Minnie..your distracting me baby"You said looking down to meet his needy eyes and his mouth slightly agape ,then it clicked

Oh this boy was dry humping you?

"m'Sorry..but I can't help myself" I said as he continued to brush his bulge against your inner thigh , burying his head in your breasts

"Min..look at me..please baby?" You lifted his head and looked him in the eyes as his breathing began to shake , his bulge finding your clothed slit and pressing against it

"I said I was bored..mm.."He whispered in your ear as he continued grinding on you , making sure to give you both pleasure

His pace quickening as moans and profanities filled the room , pulling eachother closer to get more friction as you sloppily kissed

"Shit..I'm gonna c-" you were cut off with Armin quickly kissing you , his moans filling your mouth as he humped you at a fast pace , he obviously was about to c☆m

After a few sloppy but hard thrusts you both came , all while clothed. He slumped down onto you , trying to catch his breath

"Round two in the bedroom?" He cocked his head up at you

"Bet." Smiling as you giggled at him

woodle_isbae ♡

[virtual-bunny]

NO ONE FUCKING TOUCH ME IM BREAKING DOWN

i needed this so bad i’m crying so hard

[jjkeremika]

Valentine

description: AoT men and women asking you to on a valentine's date <3

pairing: Levi; Armin; Jean; Erwin; Eren & Mikasa; Historia; Zeke; Reiner x reader

Levi

Levi stood at your apartment door with flowers and concert tickets to your favorite band. He shifted his weight between his heels and toes as he nervously wondered if he should turn back before you realized he had arrived.

Two solid knocks and a light pause later, you opened the door to his stoic demeanor, his lips relaxing into a smile at the sight of you in comfy clothes. He briefly glanced down to his ratty jeans and aged leather jacket. “Hey,” he greeted after clearing his throat, regretting his appearance. He felt he should've dressed up for you.

“Levi, hey!” you returned excitedly, about to pull him in for a hug when you noticed the flowers in his hand. You didn’t comment on them. “What are you doing here? Oh! Come on in!”

You dragged him by his forearm inside, closing the door behind you. “Oh, I was just,” he said quietly, shrugging, “around. And,” Levi lifted the flowers, shifted the weight between his feet. “I saw these and thought of you.”

“Awh, Levi, they’re beautiful!” You eagerly took the flowers from him, brought them to your nose for a long sniff. “Thank you.” You hugged him with one arm before pulling away and rushing to your kitchenette. “Let me just get a vase. Make yourself comfortable as always.”

He followed you to the kitchen, stood awkwardly in the doorway and tried to not blatantly gawk at your figure as you bent over to search the cabinets for the vase.

“I, uh, also saw that Linked Horizon are coming on the fourteenth. Did you s—?”

“Oh my god, yeah!” you exclaimed, hopping up from your position in the cabinet, the ornate glass in your palms. “I saw that!” You filled the glass with water and a spoon of sugar. “But I never bought tickets and now it’s sold out.”

Levi rubbed the papery tickets against each other in his pocket. He watched as you used shears to cut the bottoms off the stems. He pulled his hand out of his jacket pocket.

“Well, if you’re not busy that day…” You carefully dropped each stem in the water, rearranging the flowers and tossing the fallen leaves and petals. He stepped into the room, drawing your attention, and held the two tickets openly. “I’d like to go with you.”

Armin

Working at the library was honestly one of your favorite parts of the day. It was slow, mindless, relaxing, and quiet. The ambiance was kind, and any sour moods evaporated instantly once you entered those archaic arched doors.

Since it was a library, you didn’t really speak with your coworkers beyond necessity, but the blond boy who spent his time at the admin desk always caught your attention—and he was always already looking to you.

The two of you spoke in an unintelligible morse code, an unspoken language of wordless greetings and longing thoughts and lingering stares.

When you both started speaking, it was by bonding over a love of puzzles and logic traps. Armin and you shared stories of writing and interpreting ciphers and tricks, discussed possibilities of work-related games for entertainment.

On the twelfth, you started your shift with the return cart, and a large note in black ink stopped you from starting the task. For Y/N, please review the following, it read, proceeded by four rows each with four columns containing a decimal value and three numbers.

You recognized the decimal shorthand and spotted the books already on the return cart. You picked up the first one and reviewed the set of numbers, eventually determining it as indicators for the desired page number, line, and word.

Once you deciphered the message, you smiled and felt the warm flutter in your belly. You dragged the cart upstairs to the main entrance, stopped outside the administration room to see the familiar fluffy blond hair poking over the computer screen.

Wordlessly you entered and sauntered over to his desk, dropped the sheet of paper with the decoded message and your answer on his desk and left with a wink, leaving him with amazed wide eyes and an open jaw as you left the room.

Will you be my valentine?

—Yes x

Jean

Connie told him the traditional approach was stupid and uninteresting. “It’s y/n! They’re cool and fun and hilarious and awesome! You can’t do something unbelievably lame like you always do,” Connie had rambled in an eccentric voice that now haunted Jean’s thoughts.

“Fucking Connie,” Jean cursed to himself as he fixed his hair in the reflection of the window, trying to maintain his balance as the train rushed over unsteady tracks. He nervously glanced down at his watch, frantically grabbed the handlebar when the tram lurched to a stop.

Jean hopped off and rushed to the bar at which the two of you had decided to meet. He spotted you instantly, in the tight red fuzzy sweater vest and still perfectly fitting baggy jeans. He regretted his overly dressed up appearance with his matching suit and pink tie for somehow still lacking.

“Y/n,” Jean leisurely greeted with an eager grin and sparkling eyes, feeling his body warm up at the quick embrace you gave, “thank you for meeting me here.”

You gestured to the free seat next to you; he sat down. “Oh, Jean, it’s my pleasure,” you said with a smile, “thank you for asking me here.”

The conversation flowed naturally, and Jean felt himself warming up from your attention, the drink, or the room. He slid his jacket off and tugged on his necktie in a failed attempt to cool off.

You noticed the pink tint on his skin and the faint hitch in his breath. You noticed the awkward tugging on his necktie, that he was wearing a necktie at all. You noticed the smile he hid when you touched his arm with your long fingernails, when your thigh brushed against his.

As the night neared its end and he still hadn’t asked, the adrenaline rushed through his veins and he heard Connie’s cynical voice echo in his brain. He felt his stomach drop with each glance towards you, because he was convincing himself he couldn’t ask, couldn’t be worth more than nothing to you.

“I’d really like to see you again,” you hinted while you both stood on the pavement, “soon.” You felt the heat burning into your skull. The shocked expression on his face was tortuous. Maybe it was all in your head. Maybe that was too far.

Maybe it was far enough. “Y/n… would you maybe like to spend Valentine’s day with me?”

Erwin

You had visited the older instructor’s office to ask some questions on the class content, to seek some extra support on upcoming assignments.

Connie had told you Smith was the most helpful of the instructors, but you neglected to factor in the biceps the size of your head, the voice that was smooth like margarine, the eyes that stranded you alone at sea. His help was marginalized by his distracting features, by the concerned expression when he asks if you understand contrasting his brilliant smile and demeanor when you say yes.

And did it really matter if you only understood when it came from him?

His elbow bumped into yours as he leaned to the side, closer to you, to view your page. "Y/n," he started, his leg brushing against yours as he uncrossed his thighs and leaned back in the chair, the skin tingling in his touch's memory, "would it help to meet regularly?"

The question alone caught you by surprise, but paired with his heavy tone, thick with uninterpretable layers, and a curious expression with a piercing blue, watchful gaze. You barely heard him tap his foot over the blood roaring in your ears.

"We can start with an additional meeting on the..." Erwin trailed off, clicking through his online tabs to find the calendar. "The fourteenth." He punctuated his sentence with a click on the date, your eye catching the empty schedule as it appeared on the screen. He turned to you. "We can start then and take it from there."

"O-Okay," you agreed, nodding in sync with the faint throb in your pelvis as your brain reeled with the improbable. "Thank you." Your voice was quiet, and you barely heard yourself speak.

"Absolutely," he breathed out, "more than happy to help." He glanced you up and down, rested his chin between his thumb and fingers to hide his lips, his light blue eyes darkening. "I'll order us something to eat too."

Eren & Mikasa

Mikasa was scribbling your and her names in the corner of her notebook page, actively drawing the small heart around it, when Eren suddenly and loudly slid into the seat next to her, causing her to jump and draw a line through the doodle. She hid it with her palm.

Eren looked at her with a bold desperation in his eyes. “Mikasa, I’ve been thinking about asking y/n out for Valentine’s…” He rubbed the back of his neck and looked to the side sheepishly. “Do you have any ideas?”

Mikasa’s eyes widened. “O-oh,” she stuttered out, taking a half-breath to quell the unsettling feeling in her gut, “I, um.” She glanced to the palm covering the doodle. “I’ve been wondering the exact same thing actually…” She swallowed dryly. “With y/n, too…”

It’s not that she expected him to be upset, but she was surprised when his eyes lit up in a mix of excitement and relief. He perked up, straightened his spine and leaned towards Mikasa. “Let’s ask together! We can do, like, a three-person date.” He shrugged, tried to contain his eagerness. “I’m not against it. But I still have no fucking clue how to ask.”

You entered the room mid-sentence, both of their eyes focusing to you as you crossed the room to a desk. You glanced up from your phone to see both of them already looking at you, both smiling and waving immediately.

“Hey, babes,” you greeted the two of them, affectionately fixing the out-of-place strand of hair near Mikasa’s forehead. You turned to Eren and smiled wider at his eager anticipation. “I was addressing you too,” you clarified, rubbing his shoulder.

Eren leaned into your touch. “Do you have any Valentine’s plans?” Mikasa asked, playing with her pen. You spotted the heart near her hand.

You started to feel warm, flattened your lips to try to suppress the growing grin but eventually bit your bottom lip. “Not currently. Sounds like I might in a minute, though,” you responded with a wink, smiled wider at the light pink stretching across her nose.

Eren’s voice caught your attention, and you suddenly became aware of the arm he snaked around your waist under your backpack, noticed that your arm had slid along his shoulders, “Would you... want to spend it with us?” he asked nervously, before rushing out, “It doesn’t have to be a date, but, well—”

The heat settled in your stomach, and you felt your pulse in each body part. Your smile twitched at the question—at the implication.

“Yes,” you interrupted Eren’s rambling with a confident answer to a question you’ve never considered before, but now will never forget, “I’d love to spend it with you two. As a date.”

Historia

Ymir had the largest scowl on her face when Historia shyly walked over to you, a pink blush on her cheeks and a sweaty hairline. You shifted uncomfortably under Ymir’s gaze when your eyes flicked to the blonde girl standing in front of you, looking at the floor.

“Hey, y/n,” she started quietly, her cute, high-pitched voice singing in your ear, “how’s your day going?” She had a sickeningly sweet smile, one that made your stomach flip and turn with nerves. You felt your inhale cut short as she stared at you with big, rounded blue eyes.

"Good, thanks," you answered with a smile, “how’s yours?” You continued to pack your bag with your notebooks, ignoring the uncomfortable heat of Ymir’s bold glare.

“Better now,” she answered, a light rouge appearing on her cheekbones. The giddy feeling erupted in your gut and bubbled into a doey smile. “Do you have Valentine’s plans yet?”

You shook your head, tugging on the last zipper. “Nope,” you answered casually, unbothered by the notion of being single on the love holiday, “i’ll probably watch a movie at home.”

“Oh, good idea! I love movies!” Historia added, the grin taking up her face. “I..." The tips of her ears tinted pink. "I don’t have plans either." She rocked back and forth on her heels, clutched her notebook a little closer to her chest. "Would you want to watch a movie together?”

You corrected your posture and returned her soft gaze. "Yeah," you answered with an exhale, started to put your backpack on. "I'd really like that."

Zeke

Zeke haphazardly handed you the blunt, the leaflet threatening to slip from your fingertips and fall from the third story window. “Ze, careful,” you told the older man, rolling your eyes despite the smile lingering on your pursed lips, “you’re gonna’ make me drop it.”

He snorted, settling with an open mouthed smile. You watched the faint red appear around his cerulean eyes. “I can’t make you do anything.” He stretched his hand out, silently requesting the roll back.

You crossed your legs, took a long huff, then passed it over. Your fingers brushed against his, the light sensation tickling the skin for moments after. “If you hand it off wrong and I drop it, that’s your fault,” you explained simplistically, shrugging to emphasize the easiness of it all.

The smoke curled around his beard, followed the lines of the glasses resting on top of his head. He flicked the wrap, spent ash falling to the windowsill. “But I didn’t make you drop it,” Zeke retorted, blowing some residual smoke into your face. He chuckled as you closed your eyes and swatted the contaminant away.

“But you played a direct role!” You reached over and stole the blunt from him before he brought it between his lips; the blond man laughed as he let you take it, watched intently as you brought it to your own. “Wouldn’t have happened without you,” you mumbled with a long exhale, the picturesque smoke rolling off your tongue.

Zeke leaned against the wall, let his wrist rest against his knee, and tilted his head. His smile softened the longer he stared at you directing smoke and ash out the window. “I also play a direct role in asking if you want to have dinner with me on the fourteenth, but I can’t make you say yes.”

You looked out the window, suppressing the blushing grin by biting your lip. You affectionately rolled your eyes at his redirection. Not the same thing—like at all. “It’s different when you know I will,” you retorted, taking a hit and holding it until it burned, still avoiding eye contact.

“So… you will?” He eyed you carefully, handed the rest of the blunt to you and dropped his glasses onto his nose. “Say yes, I mean?” Zeke nudged your foot with his.

The roll slipped from your fingers as you focused on hiding your red cheeks and toothy grin behind your palm. “Well, obviously, yeah,” you answered sheepishly. You spotted the wrap on the wooden floor. “And see! You made me drop it!”

Reiner

You patted into the kitchen to find Reiner in front of the stove, steam rising from the pans as he shifted between items. You admired his bare back, the smooth, silky-looking skin intimately caressing tight, bulky muscles interrupted only by the thin linen apron straps.

The sudden noise of the espresso machine caused you to jump and squeal, which brought Reiner's attention to you. He hurried over, gave you a quick kiss to the cheek. "You weren't supposed to wake up yet," he murmured between more kisses, eventually pressing his lips to yours for a lingering lock.

"I can smell everything from the next room," you responded, lightly tapping his firm chest and kissing his lips again. He pulled away to attend to the aromatic contents on the stove. You sat on a bar stool. “Smells delicious, by the way.”

You saw the way his thin lips morphed into a pleased smile. “Should taste so, too,” he hummed his agreement, turned his back towards you for five more minutes. You indulged in the sight, feeling your own pupils dilate to take in more of his broad shoulders and tailored back.

Then he was making a lot of ruckus, rapidly opening drawers to find utensils and rushing to and from the fridge for toppings and ingredients. He was tossing food onto one plate and carefully aligning it on another.

You slipped off the stool to peak over, smiled at his concentrated brows and peaking tongue as he drizzled chocolate onto the dish.

You were right behind him when he turned around with the dish ostentatiously in his hands, his kind blue eyes sparkling with pride and excitement and anticipation.

You audibly gasped and brought your hands to your open smile. “Reiner! Wow!” you said astonished, hearing and feeling your stomach rumble with hunger at the sight of the heart-shaped pancakes with a chocolate lace drizzle, at the bacon and eggs and toast arranged on the side.

He waited for you to read the hidden message, the note written in jam on the toast. You giggled, took the plate from him to put on the counter, and embraced him. “I’d love to be your valentine,” you said with a long kiss.

[theepisceswriter]

BACKSHOT BOYZ — AOT EDITION (Jean, Connie, Armin)

♡ Synopsis: Headcanons on some of the AOT boys' specific style of backshots, hehe.

♡ A/N: You freaky frogs read the title and know wtfgo, face down ass up that’s the way we like to fuck !!

♡ TW: 18+, penetrative sex, afab body parts and use of good girl, nothing too kinky.

JEAN

Jean is the K I N G of slow strokes nation

That man is hung like a horse; his cock touches the top parts of his thigh when it’s soft! He knows the nuclear weapon he carries around in his pants is deadly and he would hate to have such a gift and hardly be able to use it because he knows how hard a dick like his is to take. Slow and steady wins the race. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you by giving you too much of him at once or accidentally hitting your cervix, so he takes his time with you.

Foreplay is a MUST for him to get you prepared to take him. His favorite way to rev you up is with oral. He’s one of those men that thoroughly enjoy giving head for their own pleasure, watching you squirm and desperately rut into his mouth for more when his tongue is already as flat as it can be against your clit and his chin is dripping with your juices has him wanting to stay between your legs for hours. Did I mention that on top of attacking your clit like it's a Baby Bottle Pop he’s fingering you with those long slender fingers of his to the knuckles so you’re stretched enough to take him? Yeah, he’s a menace.

He prefers to have you on the edge of the bed with a pillow underneath your stomach. That way he has easier access to you and doesn’t have to worry about getting in weird positions to make the position doable.

The very first time you had sex with him you orgasmed off that one stroke alone, but you would like to think that you’ve built up a better tolerance now (barely).

That first stroke is deadly and leaves you gasping for air the way his cock slides into your walls with ease thanks to the gathered slick and spit between your legs doing its part as a makeshift lube. He pauses momentarily to give you a few seconds to adjust and, truth be told, he’s equally as breathless as you, but as soon as he feels your body relax he surprises you by bottoming out in you. I told you, he’s a menace.

His strokes are slow and calculated so you can feel every inch of his throbbing cock against your tight fleshy walls and he can hit every sensitive angle inside of you. Sometimes when he wants to spruce it up he’ll move his hips in circular motions for added stimulation.

“You take me so well, my love. This cock was made for you and only you wasn’t it?” “Look at your pussy swallowing me up whole, you take my cock so well babygirl, fuck.”

Dirty talk is top tier and he makes sure to press his chest against your back so he can whisper it intimately in your ear. Also, he’s a back licker through and true. Do with that information what you will!

CONNIE

The cockiest man in the world when he’s giving you backshots, like unbelievably cocky because he knows what his dick does to you, but he really knows what it does to you in doggy style. Thick, beefy, and uncut all up in yo guts !

His favorite doggy style position to have you in is on the edge of the bed so he can use the leverage of standing up to pound into you like a madman.

Taunting giggles and snickers the whole time, he watches you fight for your life gripping and biting on the sheets because you’re in a position where you have no choice but to take all of his beefy cock. He even likes to go no hands sometimes, placing them on the back of his head and letting the sheer power of his hips fuck you to borderline insanity.

“That's it, be a good girl and take all of me. You just love having my thick cock pound away at your walls, dont you?” “Aht, aht, you can take it. I know you can you’ve done it plenty of times before.” With a menacing smirk on his lips and all. Like, sir, this is how you cause crazy ex-girlfriends. You’re ready to go to war over that dick now!

Dont let his cool, calm, collected, and cocky demeanor fool you because the moment your walls get to ushing and gushing around him too well he has to put his hands around your neck as leverage to keep himself from buckling in the knees.

On nights when he’s feeling extra freaky (which is every night) he likes to put his thumb in your butt for added sensory. Sometimes he can even feel the tip of his dick through the soft membrane when he has his thumb in there and that lets him know he’s doing a job well done.

ARMIN

You on your stomach with your legs crossed and Armin mounted on your ass pounding into your poor overstimulated cunt is his favorite way to give you some lethal backshots. This position allows the two of you to be deeply connected, he can’t help but rut into you like a dog in heat.

You swear you can feel his cock tickle your belly button in this position and he swears he can feel your walls suck him in deeper and resist to let him go when he tries to pull out.

Its so overstimulating for the two; He often finds himself collapsing on on your back and burying his face into your neck while whimpering and moaning about how good you’re making him feel.

“Thank you so much for being mines and letting me fuck you 🥹” “You feel so so so good around me. You’re going to milk my cock dry, go ahead its all yours.” This man is on the verge of pleasure tears because of how warm and soft your pussy feels around him.

Has perfected the craft of kissing your next while he’s balls deep inside of you. He kisses your neck with the same energy he would use if he was kissing your lips, tongue and suction going crazy on that sensitive part between your ear and neck. Best believe by the end of the night you’re covered in hickies.

And the best part? When he finishes either he’ll pull out and leave squirts of warm cum on your ass or creampie you so he can watch it ooze and drip from between clenched thighs.

[spicerackofblorbos]

Ice Prince - figure skater!Armin Arlert x gen!Reader

☾ summary ➼ when taking your little brother to an ice skating camp for beginners, you're thrown for a loop. Your brother's coach wasn't just talented, he was cute and adorable as hell. ☾ content/warnings ➼ modernAU, fluff, meetcute, no use of y/n or physical descriptors, reader has a little brother, soft bby armin ☾ wc ➼ ~4.05k ☾ a/n ➼ this is for @crazychaoticizzy and @cinnamon-girl-writes 's full throttle event!! thank you guys so much for inviting me as well as being patient with me. this was so fun to write and i hope you enjoy it!! also i'm posting this from my writing blog lol

A single tug on your hand grabs your attention. Looking down, you see your nerve-wracked little brother, wide-eyed with taut lips. You stop in the middle of the parking lot belonging to your local ice rink, the winter sun beaming down on you two from above.

“Are you still nervous?” You whisper down to him, turning to face him as you bend down to his eye level. You give him a soft smile and a reassuring squeeze on the hand that still grips yours.

“I’m going to be laughed at.” Your brother says in a small voice. His eyes avert from yours.

“Little sparrow, they will not laugh at you. You’re a beginner, just like them! Falling is inevitable and normal.” You reach over to fix the thick winter coat that warms his little body. “Besides, if anyone laughs at you, then they have your big sister to answer to first.” You smirk.

He searches your face, as if he might find any doubt that would contradict your words. The little boy finds none. He takes a shuddering breath before inhaling deeply one last time. With a determined nod, he squeezes your hand and leads you to the large entrance to the arena.

Upon entering through glass double doors, the sounds of children laughing and metal against ice fill your ears. There’s a booth ahead with a kind looking lady, who is currently reading through a clipboard as you both step up. The woman is unaware as she mutters to herself, so you clear your throat gently.

“Oh!” She pops up, fixing her glasses that had shifted down her nose. “Welcome! I assume you are here for camp?” Her voice is soft, almost fragile.

“Yes. Well, not me. For this little man right here.” You tilt your chin down in his direction, shifting the woman’s attention to the wide-eyed boy.

“Ah, perfect. Name?” She goes back to the clipboard, ready to mark off the newcomer.

“Zachary Simmons.”

“There he is! Looks like he’s in Mr. Arlert’s group.” she says excitedly.

“Which is a good thing, right?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Very. He made it here for once. He’s usually gone for this season for tournaments or other miscellaneous events. He’s a great teacher and even sweeter man. This little one will love him.” She puts down her clipboard and beams towards the both of you.

“Uhh, right. Yes. Thank you. Where is that group?” Your eyes look around the semi-busy arena.

“All the way to the left and back. There should be about five other children in the group, and you’re looking for the blonde-haired man.”

Zach doesn’t hesitate to drag you in the direction without another word, and a bubble of laughter escaping you because of his newfound enthusiasm. On your way through, you see many other children giggling and talking with excitement, ready for the next three days.

“Would you like some help, Dela?” You hear a soft-spoken voice as you turn into a quieter section of the arena. Your eyes snap to the source of it, seeing a blonde-haired man squatting with his back to you, facing a little girl who sits on a bench with her feet propped up on what looks like the man’s knee. It seems he’s helping her lace up her skates. After a moment, he leans back as the little girl swings her feet, testing the tightness.

“Thank you, Armin!” She says gratefully before attempting to stand up with help from the man, his hands holding her by her shoulders for stability.

“Let’s take it slow, okay? Try and walk along the wall to the others.” He instructs. You can hear a small smile in his voice. He stands tall, much taller than you, then turns.

You’re caught off guard.

Mr. Arlert is adorably cute. He has boyish features, bright blue eyes, soft pink tinged cheeks, and a sweet smile. He also seems to be about your age, if not older. He’s wearing a sweatshirt that hangs loose on his lean body, followed by equally baggy windbreaker pants and a pair of worn-out sneakers.

He steps over to where you and your brother stand, offering an outstretched hand. You take it hesitantly, surprised by how warm and soft his hand is. But, despite the delicate and soft features, his grip is strong.

“Hi, you must be the Simmons?” He inquires. Even his voice is soft, soothing even.

“That would be us. This is Zach.” You release your brother’s hand and place it on his upper back, nudging him forward. Once bouncing with excitement, he is now suddenly very shy.

“Hi, Zach.” Mr. Arlert bends down to Zach’s level, resting his hands on his knees as he smiles. “I’m Armin Arlert, welcome!”

“H-hello, Mr. Arlert.”

“Please, call me Armin. I’m so happy to have you in my group.” Armin’s eyes trail to the pair of skates with the laces knotted together, hanging off Zach’s shoulder. “Are you ready to have fun?”

Zach tilts his head up to look at you, as if waiting for permission. You offer a thumbs up with a smile, which makes him crack his own goofy grin.

“I’ll be here the whole time. You’ll be okay.” You mutter down to him, ruffling his hair. You’re met with a grumpy swat at your hand, but even still. Zach smiles and nods to Armin, subtly relaxing.

“Why don’t go lace up over there,” he points to the bench that the little girl was just sitting on moments ago. “While I talk to your mom.” His eyes meet yours, ocean deep blue. You’re so mesmerized by him that you barely catch on to what he said.

“Oh! No, um. Not his mom, I’m his sister.” You wave your hands in front of your chest in a dismissive manner. Zach couldn’t care less as he bounds over, quickly slipping off his winter boots.

Armin stands up, a bright blush creeping up his neck and face. He’s a few inches taller than you, not enough to tower but still enough that you have to tilt your chin to meet his gaze.

“I’m so sorry! That was incredibly rude of me to assume. You don’t even look that old, it’s just habit since most of the kids come with their moms so.” He nervously cards his fingers through his blonde hair, pushing the strands back and away from his face, which inevitably falls back into place.

“No, you’re okay! It’s a common misconception.” You shake your head, eyes wide. “My mother married his dad, then they had him when I was in high school. It was definitely not something I wasn’t prepared for, but I really like Nick, he’s good to my mom. My biological dad left the picture early on…” you ramble, your fingers fidgeting with the rings that adorn your fingers. “Which… you definitely did not need to know that. I’m sorry.” You laugh nervously as you avert your gaze, your cheeks now heating up in embarrassment.

“It’s really okay, I’m not judging one bit! In fact, I think it’s really sweet how much you care for him. I’ve heard stories of stepsiblings and stepparents not getting along well, so it’s great that you both are so close.”

There’s a moment of silence as you both ingest the conversation that just transpired between the two of you.

“Um,” Armin clears his throat. “I’m going to start with the kids. Feel free to sit over on those benches if you’d like to stay.” He turns on his heel and walks away briskly.

Your eyes travel in the direction Armin has suggested, seeing a myriad of parents either working on hobbies they brought with them or video recording their kids fall on the ice. With a heavy sigh, you make your way over and sit next to a woman who was currently knitting what looked like a winter hat.

You assumed the few hours would pass by playing on your phone, anything to distract from the boredom that would inevitably creep into your bones. But that’s not how it went. Much to your surprise, you’re enamored with how Armin slides across the ice with grace. It’s as if he’d been doing this his whole life.

You finally understand by what the woman at check-in had meant by Mr. Arlert being away every year. He is a talented skater as she said, enough to be medal worthy.

You watch as he instructs the children on correct posture, being patient while taking the extra time to help each individual kid that needed assistance. Not once did a flicker of annoyance or frustration cross his features. If anything, he was having the time of his life by the way he smiled and spoke words full of compassion.

By the end of the day, your brother glows with confidence. His semi-toothless grin beams at you while changing back into his sneakers, the weight of his used skates hanging on your shoulders. He doesn’t stop chatting to another boy sitting next to him on the bench who was also lacing his sneakers. You smile fondly.

“Your brother is a natural, are you sure he wants to stay in the beginner’s class?” That familiar soft-spoken voice pipes up behind you.

You turn to face Armin who was currently using a fluffy towel to wipe the sweat his face. There’s no hint of jest in his features, only sweet sincerity. And true curiosity.

“Oh, he has very little experience. He tried it once when he was much younger, out on the lake in the dead of winter. He hurt himself, and that was it. They tried everything for years to get him to try again, but…” You mentally pinch yourself for rambling on again, a ridiculous nervous habit.

“So, what made him want to try again?”

Now it’s your turn to look at Armin with curiosity. To have someone genuinely interested in what you had to say was not something you come to expect from people you just met. It only makes the small smile tugging at your lips that much sweeter.

“He found an old video of our mom and dad figure skating together a few years before he was born, and he’s been watching every day since then. Our parents met on the ice, actually. It’s where they fell in love. He’s under the impression he’ll find his first love on the ice too. Silly kid.” You chuckle softly as you turn to face Zach again who is talking animatedly about something with his new friend.

“Hm.” Armin thinks for a moment. “So, that must mean you’re pretty talented in skates as well?” You meet his gaze again with tight lips.

“Definitely not. I’ve never even been on the ice before.”

“No? Not interested or…?”

“Never really gave it much thought. I was so focused on my studies, I refused to have anything outside of that since it was a distraction.” You shake your head dismissively before cracking a smile. “But it’s okay. I get to live vicariously through Zach. And, well now you, I guess. You’re a very talented skater, the way you move is very beautiful.” Your words slip out faster than you can stop them, heat rushing up into your cheeks again.

“Anyway!” You chuckle nervously as you back away with your car keys in hand. “I really need to take us home for dinner. Uh, see you tomorrow, I think.” You say quickly before turning and walking straight to where Zach still stands. You mentally berate yourself the whole way back to the car and on the ride home.

The second day of camp came and went faster than you would have liked. Much like the day before, you were enchanted by the way Armin carved into the ice. It was almost as if it required little no effort for him.

Somewhere around noon, Zach collided with another camper which flared up your sibling instincts. Before you could throw off the soft blanket you had brought with you, Armin was there in an instant. He had dropped to his knees to help your brother up, gently gripping his biceps as he steadied Zach's trembling posture.

There was something about the compassionate moment that made your heart melt. It’s not unusual to see someone comforting an upset child, but the way Armin went about it was just as stunning as he was in his skates. At that point, you had left your stuff on the bleachers while you made your way down to the entrance separating the ice and the carpeted floor.

As if nothing happened, Zach clumsily skates off to meet up with his friend. You only see the back of his head so you aren't able to get a good look at his face, but you can imagine the smile that lights up on it like it usually does once he's feeling better.

The sound of scraping startles you, paired with Armin's lean body gracefully holding on to the half wall to stop his slide. He looks at you with a soft gaze and kind smile. From his position, you can make out the subtle light freckles that scatter on the bridge of his nose and fade out towards his cheekbones.

“Your brother reminds me a lot of myself when I was his age.” He states.

“Clumsy?” You laugh under your breath as your eyes trail back to your brother. He's currently working on starting and stopping with a wild grin.

“Yes,” He chuckles as well. “and determined. He's a fighter.” The sincerity in his compliment draws your eyes back to his.

“What made you want to start skating?” You rest your forearms on top of the half-wall, leaning forward onto the balls of your feet.

“Well, let's just say something traumatic happened when I was a kid, and I found that figure skating distracted my mind. It became therapeutic, and then it just stuck.” He shrugs as if that was that. In all honesty, you wanted to ask more. You wanted to know more about this soft spoken man before you.

“I'm really sorry to hear that.”

“Oh, it's fine really! I found something I love because of it.” The way his eyes scrunch when he genuinely smiles almost kills you. “What do you like to do in your spare time?”

At the time, you assumed this was polite small talk. Something to pass the time while the kids practiced starts and stops. To Armin, though, this was him trying to learn as much about you as he could.

“Well, it's nothing exciting as skating, that's for sure.” You prop your chin up on a palm as you continue to lean on the wall. “I like to write.”

“That can be very exciting depending on what you write! Can I know?” There's that genuine and sincere curiosity again.

“Well, it depends, I guess. I'm working on a murder mystery right now.” You purse your lips in thought, thinking back to the last paragraph you had outlined.

“That sounds extremely exciting!” His eyes widen, soft blue eyes filled with wonder. “Have you published any?”

“No, I don't think I will. It's more of a hobby if anything.” You shift your weight onto the other foot.

“Still, it’s great that you write. I love to read, so if you ever publish it I'd love to read it. Having a best selling author live in my town? That's a pretty cool fun fact.” Despite Armin's confident words, his face turns a pale carmine red. It's adorable on him. Your face heats up as well, his words resonating through you.

“O-oh, well. If I ever do, I'll make sure to give you a signed copy.” Another nervous laugh leaves you.

A resounding thud sounds behind Armin, followed by a child’s cry. “Ah, shit.” He whispers under his breath. His blue eyes meet yours and gives you an apologetic smile before pushing off the wall and skating over to the fallen beginner.

A heavy sigh escapes your lips, finally able to breathe normally. There was something about being in his presence that left you dizzy. He was calm. Peaceful. Refreshing.

The third and final day was more than you bargained for.

Considering it was a three day camp, perfect results were not expected. If anything, this camp served as a way to teach kids the basics of skating and if they liked it and wanted more, there were sign up sheets for lessons that started in about a month.

The way that Zach talked about the camp at the dinner table, it was clear he wanted to continue to practice. Your parents were elated, of course. As were you, but for an entirely different reason. The last two nights consisted of you thinking about Armin against your will. There was just something about him.

So, when your little brother comes bounding up to you with the seasonal sign up forms with his request to be in Armin's class, you could feel your heart leaping up into your throat – either from anxiety or excitement, you couldn't tell. You just know that you'd be the one transporting Zach, which meant you could see Armin every week. You roll your eyes at yourself the moment that thought crosses your mind.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” You ask Zach as you read through the sign up sheets and waivers, your eyes glancing up at him from the overwhelming amount of words that swim on the page. You'd let your parents take care of this, you decide.

“Yes! I really like him, he's a good teacher. He said he liked my skates too!” His ice skates were slung over his shoulder like they usually were. The red and orange flames on the side of them make your eyebrows quirk, because it's the first time you've seen them like this. “Plus, I think you like him too!” He giggles at the way your body language changes from being flustered.

“You don't know what you're talking about! Shush!” You give him a look, scrunching your nose.

“I see the way you look at him!”

“Stop!”

“Are you going to kiss him?”

“Zachary I swear to-!"

“Zach!” The friend that your brother had made calls him over, standing next to his mom. They're both smiling in your direction, waving politely. With permission from both moms (and a physical meet up of course), a little playdate and dinner were set up to celebrate.

Honestly, you could have just dropped him off in the care of the mother at the beginning of the day. But, then you wouldn't be able to see the way Armin smiled every time he hit the ice.

“Just go.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. Despite the annoyances, you still grab him and pull him into your chest for a final hug. “Don't forget to call if anything happens. And if you're ready to come home earlier than planned, please let us know. Do you have your jacket and everything?” You say down to him, finally releasing him from your grip.

It was his turn to scrunch his nose at you.

“Yes, yes, and yes. Can I go now?” He nods, clutching the little drawstring bag he brought with him in his little hands.

“Okay, okay. Go have fun.” With a smile, you watch him run off. He's never been great at having friends, so the sight of him laughing so freely with someone else is nice.

You turn to head out the large double doors, checking your pockets and hands to make sure you have everything. Wallet, phone, earbuds, sign up sheets, waivers… keys? You pat around all of your pockets, hoping maybe that you put them in a different pocket than usual.

Nothing.

With a deep groan, you turn around and head back to the back bleachers where you were sitting just moments before. At this point, the arena was next to empty. The only people left were mingling camp and venue staff, and they were all up front tidying everything up.

After five minutes of deep searching in every crevice of the nasty seats, you sit up with a frustrated sigh. The thought of someone stealing your keys and driving off fills your mind, dread slinking its way through your body like a snake.

“Ugh, what am I going to tell mom…” You whine into the air with your hands thrown up in defeat.

“Um. I assume these might be yours?” The soft-spoken voice behind you creates goosebumps down your arms.

You turn around slowly and see Armin looking at you with your car keys dangling from his lithe fingers. The relief that crashes over you is palpable, so much so that you aren’t aware of how quickly you threw yourself off the bleachers and almost on top of him.

“Oh my gosh, thank you Armin! You just saved me hours of being yelled at by my parents.” Armin drops them into your open palm with a shake of his head.

“It’s no problem. I’ve been looking around for you anyway, so this works out.” He smiles at you as if what he just said wasn’t that big of a deal. Again, despite his confident and unwavering expression, the red around his neck and face tells just how awkward he must be feeling.

“For me?” You tuck your keys and other belongings in the shoulder bag you brought. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh, yes! Everything is fine. Um,” he runs his fingers through his blonde locks as he looks down at you with a shy smile. “I was wondering if you’d like to learn how to skate while you were here.” His voice slowly gets quieter. The way he lifts his arm to rub the back of his neck nervously gives a good display of his lean muscles and milky skin under the bright fluorescent lights.

There’s a moment of silence, him waiting for your response and you slowly comprehending his question.

“Learn? Like, me…? Get out on the ice…?”

A soft huff escapes Armin’s lips, the nervous smile now an amused grin.

“Yes. I’m here, I promise I won’t let you fall.”

“I don’t think you want to see that. And, I don’t even have skates.”

“There are ones you can borrow from the rental booth.”

“Don’t you have to pay for those?”

“So, is that a yes?” His blue eyes sparkle with enthusiasm, excitement even at the proposition of spending actual time with you outside of professionality.

“I-I don’t know. I’m not very balanced.” You step away slightly, feeling your face heat up yet again.  

“What if I promise that you won’t fall and that I’ll buy dinner after? If you do fall, then we can promise to never see each other again.” There’s a small playful smirk that threatens to tug on the corners of his mouth.

You purse your lips at him, fingers intertwining with each other as you weigh your pros and cons. On the one hand, you could finally indulge yourself with what might happen between the two of you. On the other, you’d have to lace up some skates and pray your jeans don’t rip.

“Do I get to choose the restaurant?” You meet his gaze with a quirked eyebrow.

“Sure.” He chuckles. From his voice to his laugh to the delicate features on his face, you wonder how anyone could say no to him.

It takes you a while to find skates that fit you comfortably. They were very used and even smelled like it too, much to your disdain. Armin makes sure to hold you by the arm as he leads you back to the rink entrance, letting go so he can step on the ice first then holds his hand out to you to take.

“I never got your name, by the way.”

You take it in your own hand, pleasantly surprised yet again by how warm it was. Your fingers tighten around his palm as he gently pulls you into him. Already you can feel your legs trembling under you – but was it the nerves or the lack of skill, you didn’t know. Regardless, you give him a smile.

“That’s because I haven’t told you yet. Buy me dinner first, then I’ll talk.”

[asciendo]

Resurgence of the Founding Chapter 3

Summary: Eren Jaeger is resurrected centuries after the Rumbling, only to find the world still in turmoil, with Eldians oppressed and Marleyans in control. The Jaegerists ask for his help in protecting their people, but there’s a catch: Eren must be bethrothed and father an heir with the power to end the cycle of Titans once and for all.

content: eren jaeger x female reader

Warning: smut, violence, swearing

Tag list: @vlsquuu  @faerie-soirxx

Chapters: Chapter 1/Chapter 2/Chapter 4 / Chapter 5

Y/N entered her house shakily after Eren chose her. She didn’t know what to do or feel. Everything seemed surreal, as though all the air had been sucked out of her body. Her hands trembled as she shut the door behind her, leaning against it in an attempt to process what had just happened. The sound of hurried footsteps snapped her out of her daze. Her parents entered the room with proud eyes that starkly contrasted her tear-filled ones.

Her mother enveloped her in a hug—a rare and unfamiliar gesture. Whispering softly, her mom said, “You did well.” Y/N, however, couldn’t respond. She stared past her mother with a blank expression, the weight of her new reality pressing down on her like a vice. Her father stood nearby, his chest puffed with pride, while her younger brother peeked out from behind him, concern evident on his small face. He seemed like the only one who noticed her trembling hands and uneven breathing.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and Lucian stepped inside. His demeanor was firm yet sympathetic. “Y/N, it’s time to go,” he said. Her eyes widened.

“Go? What about my things?” she asked hesitantly, her voice wavering.

“They will be sent to you,” Lucian replied curtly.

Everything was happening too fast. She hadn’t even had time to gather herself, let alone ask what was going to happen next. Before she knew it, she was being ushered out of the house. The town’s people lined the streets, their gazes filled with awe and reverence that made her feel uneasy, as though she were some kind of savior. Some whispered, others pointed, their words blending into a chaotic buzz she couldn’t tune out. She kept her head low the entire time, unable to meet their eyes. The weight of their expectations pressed down on her, suffocating and relentless.

When she finally reached the mansion, her breath hitched. The grand structure loomed before her, its towering spires and intricate stonework a testament to power and wealth. It felt cold and unwelcoming, despite its beauty. As Lucian led her inside, the echo of their footsteps on the marble floors only heightened her anxiety. He gave her a sideways glance and said, “I know this isn’t what you wanted. Believe me, I’m as surprised as you are that he chose you. Not that you aren’t a good choice, but… there were others far more willing. This must mean something.”

Y/N nodded silently, her mind racing with unanswered questions. Before she could respond, she heard footsteps approaching. Her heart leapt into her throat as Eren appeared at the end of the hall, his expression unreadable. He stopped a few feet away, his intense gaze flickering briefly over her before looking past her entirely.

“Her room is that way,” he said flatly before walking away, his boots clicking against the polished floor. Y/N froze, the coldness in his tone sending a shiver down her spine. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Her eyes followed him as he disappeared down the corridor. Why did he choose her? The question lingered as Lucian gently guided her to her room.

The door creaked open, and Y/N’s eyes widened. The room was massive, with a large bed at its center, draped in rich fabrics that shimmered in the light. Elegant dressers lined the walls, a vanity table stood in the corner, and enormous windows let in the soft glow of the setting sun. She wandered around in awe, running her fingers over the polished surfaces. It felt more like a palace chamber than a bedroom.

Lucian, standing by the door, said, “Again, thank you for doing this. I know it’s not enough, but… we are grateful.” His voice carried a weight of sincerity, though it did little to ease the turmoil in her chest. With that, he left, closing the door softly behind him.

Y/N walked to the window and looked out at the sprawling garden below. It was breathtaking, with its perfectly manicured hedges, vibrant flowers, and a fountain that glimmered in the fading light. It should have been calming, but the serenity only made her feel more out of place. Her gaze stopped at a lone figure sitting on a bench, head in his hands. Eren. Her body tensed despite the distance between them. There was something about him that made her uneasy, yet she couldn’t look away. As though sensing her, he lifted his head and locked eyes with her. She froze, her breath hitching. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, he stood and walked back inside the mansion, leaving her staring after him, her thoughts a jumbled mess.

The council convened days later, pressuring Eren with their demands for an heir. Their voices clamored in unison: the future depended on it. Eren’s jaw clenched as he listened, his patience thinning with every word.

“Time is running out,” one of them said. “If we’re to secure our strength, the child must—”

Eren slammed his fist onto the table, silencing them. “I don’t need reminders,” he growled. “I know what’s at stake. But this isn’t something you can rush.”

The meeting ended with tension thick in the air. As Eren walked away, his thoughts spiraled. The plan had always been clear, but the morality of it—what it demanded of him, of her—gnawed at his resolve.

That night, he found Y/N in the dining room. Her stiff posture and the cautious way she ate spoke volumes. She avoided his gaze, but her movements weren’t as timid as before. She was opening up, bit by bit, and for reasons he couldn’t explain, it brought him a strange sense of relief.

“What do you like to do?” he asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

She looked up at him, startled. “Read,” she replied softly.

Without another word, he stood and motioned for her to follow him. Confused but curious, she obeyed. He led her through the mansion’s winding halls until they stopped in front of large double doors. When he opened them, her breath caught.

Inside was a massive library, its shelves stretching from floor to ceiling, filled with books of every kind. Her eyes widened as she stepped inside, the scent of aged paper and leather overwhelming her senses.

“You can take anything you like,” Eren said, his voice quieter than usual.

For the first time, Y/N saw something flicker in his expression—something softer. She didn’t know what to say, so she nodded. As she explored the shelves, Eren watched her from the doorway. He didn’t linger long, but the image of her surrounded by books stayed with him.