#armin arlert angst

[jongsie]

CRUEL — A. ARMIN

🎧au — boyfriend! armin x gn! reader |🎧ft — angst 🫦💗 | 🎧cw — reader is sick. nicknames, implied character death, lmk if I missed anything | 🎧wc — 481

🎧 raven's note — I wrote this before leaving and queued for a random day so here it is. Let me know what y'all think of this :)

“Where is she? She’s not in her room,” Armin says, it’s the first words he’s spoken since he had to leave 2 days ago. 

“We moved her to a different room after you left,” Hange replies. “I’ll take you there.”

Armin just nods his head at them, following behind as they make their way up the stairs. Every step he takes his heartbeat quickens, no matter how much he wipes his palms they get just as sweaty. 

The locket you gave him rests in his shirt providing him with some comfort that everything will be alright. 

“She’s in here,” Hange says, stopping in front of a door. 

“Thank you,” Armins says before hurriedly entering in. 

Inside all the curtains are drawn wide, some chairs and a table with flowers are place on one side of the room, and on the other side near a big window is a bed on which you rest. 

At the sight of you tears brim in Armin’s eyes. Eye bags are prominent on your face, your cheeks have shrunken in, lips dry and cracked. He walks over to stand next to you.

Armin lifts his hand to place it on your face the touch making you open your eyes. 

“Min? When’d you get here?” you ask, voice much quieter than what it used to be. 

“Just now, my love,” he says. “How are you feeling?”

A weak chuckle escapes your lips. “Like I could die any second.”

“Don’t joke like that. You’ll be okay,” he tries to assure you and himself, even though you both know it’s not the truth.

“I’m sorry,” you apologise.

The room goes silent while you both look at each other, you take his hand which is on your face into your own. Your hand cold his warm. 

“I wish we had more time together,” you say, breaking the silence. “I wanted to do so much with you still.” 

Armin kneels to the floor, hiding his face next to you so you don’t see how close he is to breaking. 

“Do you think you can forgive me?” you ask. 

He shakes his head making tears collect in your eyes. “Don’t leave me please,” he begs. 

“I wish I didn’t have to my dear, but the world is cruel,” you say, as tears cascade down your face. Every word takes everything in you to get out. But you speak because you know that any second now you would have to leave him.

Armin lifts his head to look at you with his own tears trailing down his cheeks. His blue eyes that you could look at forever were the things that showed you just how much this was hurting him. 

“I love you more than anything Armin,” you whisper. “See the world for…”

And Armin lets the sobs he was holding back free as soon as your sentence hangs unfinished in the air.

© jongsie— all writing is mine do not plagiarize, cross post, repost, copy, translate, ect.

#jongsie #armin x reader #armin x you #armin angst #armin arlert x reader #armin arlert x you #armin arlert angst #armin aot #armin arlert #aot x you #aot x reader #aot angst

[heliiacus]

to traverse this with you

tags: armin x reader, forced proximity, reader's past as a spy, angst, emotions spill out in this one, protective armin, the cards are laid out, reader uses she/her pronouns

warnings: mentions of death (of a minor character)

words: 3.1k | masterlist

They used to love one another, long ago. Not loudly, nor ferociously, or even in a way that the other knew about, but they did. She knows that now. It could have stayed simple. They could have stayed apart. It has been years since she's been deployed to Marley, to live and work under a secret identity; and grieve as she may have for him, she could have lived with it. She really could have. They could have stayed star-crossed, torn away by war, but things just had to get difficult. Now, with tensions rising, she is forced to relocate – to trek through the lone mountains in the desolate Marleyan wilderness, in an attempt to clandestinely reach a port outside Liberio. And in another world it would have, perhaps, been a task of a casual undertaking. It could have been simple. Were it not for him, by her side: the man she has grieved for this entire time. Were it not for this one simple, stupid mistake.

When they wake, it feels like an avalanche. Rain pattering across their roof, a wind so violent it grows a voice.

It is cold. The air bites at the exposed skin of her cheeks, and this she could ignore, were it not for the rest of her body, swathed and encompassed in a tight hold around her waist. She feels him now, slowly waking from his slumber: chest rising softly, muscles shifting with the growing light. Keenly, she feels their hands on one another, both pairs touching at the other's backs, heavy and warm; as if foreign, but not unpleasant, four creatures with an aim beyond her understanding.

She feels his twitch reflexively at the small of her back, and she hears him murmur something, words she can't tell apart yet. He sighs, hands pushing, ever so slightly, into the flesh of her back, and the gesture is so light, so minuscule that she wonders if she'd have noticed, were it not for the shiver that bounds over her skin. Then he says her name, whispers it so gently that she is pulled into looking at him – there she finds him looking back at her, the cerulean in his gaze quiet and drowning.

Looking at him now, an uncomfortable sort of breathlessness twists in her chest. Can he tell? Can he read her now, now that she feels sore and flayed open before him? They both lay silent, eyes blinking blearily at one another, trying to stave off the sleep. The light, weak and barely breaking, seeps into the tent with a slowness, and here she can see him; hair melting into gold, tousled and rustled against the ground, and his skin is flushed from the cold that bites it – or from the warmth, perhaps. Hers.

Time thins once again, not unlike it did the night before. Her heart strains beneath the weight of his gaze, and her hands twinge against his shirt. She can't read his eyes. She tries and tries, watching, attentively, something swirl within his gaze, but she can't do it. All she knows is that it leaves her feeling weightless, held down by nothing else but the gravity within the look he gives her.

Neither can she look away. Pulled by the heartstrings to him, she lay there pinned, moveless and heavy.

Like time, the air thins between them. Neither of them move, but the breadth between them seems to narrow. She thinks, in the mind of her heart, that she would move. That she would loosen her hand and reach for his cheek, that she would say something – anything. And as she lay there, imagining, it all snaps so irrevocably fast that it has her head spinning: all at once, time turns over, and Armin inhales deeply, his chest grazing at hers lightly. His hands twitch at her waist reflexively, and something passes in his eyes, something grieving, and yearning, and horribly in pain, and then, just like that, it is all gone. In its place, a placid look comes on his face, and his hands are already leaving her when he murmurs: "Good morning."

"Morning," she replies, voice thin. She clears her throat, then tries again: "Good morning."

He smiles at her. Weakly, but he does, and she can't help but smile back at him. They have short exchanges, quiet as they change and stretch at their ends of the tent. After, they dare to peer out of it, looking at the sky. They both sigh heavily, gazes lingering on the dark clouds roiling all across the dome. They then look at one another, shoulders sagged – already resigned to the confinement this weather bodes for them.

"You're the expert here," he says, in a tone she can't quite read. "What's the prognosis?"

She turns her eyes back to the sky. It seems to have been weeks of walking, far and further from where they have begun – and yet the sky is still the same here, so turmoiled and dissatisfied in the middle of autumn. It strikes her now, with an odd epiphany, just how different the sky looks on the island this time of year.

"Better get comfortable," she turns to tell him, and she thinks, from the look on his face, that he already knows. "I don't think this will let up until night."

And they do. Legs outstretched and bedding bundled, they both sit there, keeping their minds busy. The day stretches restlessly, the both of them shifting on occasion, or looking up and at each other, quiet gazes that come to not by worry, but by an almost compulsion, and the rain patters and patters unrelentingly.

They both stick to their sides of the tent, so unlike they had this morning: he reads by his side, the one and only book he's packed with him, and she joins him for a time, paging stiffly through the poems she knows by heart. Most of the day, however, her mind is pulled to the rain, to the vast, desolate planes of the hills that will soon, likely, grow foreign to her again. They sit with the flap of the tent open, and she watches the wind rattle at its surroundings.

She grows restless. Uneasy. She almost begins to beg Armin to just pack and go, weather be damned, but she knows he will not agree. She knows he would not listen if she told him she is used to this weather; she'd trudged through it, mud and pain, in the edges of the trenches, pulling up soldiers with no more fight in them to give. She'd spent so much time in this Marleyan rain, always ceaseless once it begins, that she would know it by touch alone.

So much time she has spent here with the volunteers. So much pain she has witnessed; joy, too, shockingly so. She can only hope her work here was useful to the island. To the commander. To Armin.

"Hey," Armin says, and just like that, her thoughts snap. She turns to him, mind suddenly quiet, and she finds him gazing at her, the look in his eyes filled to the brim with a delicate worry. He is quiet, for a moment – as if looking for words. Then he goes to stand, to close the distance between them. She watches him quietly with something heavy in her heart, and it doesn't ease up until he is sitting ahead of her, legs crossed and a box in his hands. "Do you want to play?" He asks, extending the box, and she sees now it's one of cards. "Thought it might be a good distraction."

Her voice feels thin. "Sure," she tells him, and she finds that her lap holds the book of poems still. She puts it away as Armin shuffles the deck, and for a moment she is dazzled by how smoothly his hands work at the cards. "I've just noticed. You've gotten better at this," she finds herself saying, and he hums.

"We spent the last year building railroads," he tells her, eyes on the cards. "You have no idea how boring those nights would get. All we did was play cards."

"I was told," she says, watching the cards with him. "About the railroad, I mean. It's finished now, right?"

"Oh, yeah," he smiles, dealing the cards. "Felt like a vacation, oddly enough. Everything was so quiet."

"Yeah," she says, picking up the cards. "I know what you mean."

They play. They have a back and forth of wins and losses, which has grown customary between them. She feels, however, herself slipping the longer they play; and she feels, conversely, him going easier on her in return. She wonders if he knows – if he can tell her absent-mindedness, if he can tell just how discomforted she is.

But of course he does. Far too long they have spent on this road to not have known this about each other. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asks, eyes peeled, mercifully, to his cards. She takes a breath, then another. She puts a card forward. He puts forward his, waiting, quietly.

"There was this woman I met in Marley," she begins, pulling a card. "Played cards like an ace. Swore up and down it's up to luck. She had this.. difficulty. With reading?" She glances at him, breathless at the sight of his eyes focused to steel on her words. "Letters swimming, and all that. But she was terrific at math. Some sort of genius. I've only seen glimpses, but they had her working on those complex schematics, and she flew through them like honey."

Armin pulls a card. He waits a beat, then another – then he puts a card forward.

"I reckon she's dead now," she tells him, pulling a card. "She could have volunteered, I know that she could have, but the militia – they got to her first."

He sighs. More than that. He exhales, the sound thin and pained, as if his lungs had held the air for far too long. "It was a difficult mission," he begins, and when their eyes meet, he stops. She sees with a clarity just how all his words fall flat. He says her name instead, and she almost hates how hallowed it sounds, and he sees it – she knows he does. His lets his hand go, and she hears the cards fall flat and face up on the ground, and, mournfully, almost desperately, he asks her: "What would you have me do? What would you have me do, Y/N?" And he gasps before he says her name. It is so short, so quick that she barely notices, but it is there, and it guts her.

She opens her mouth. She does not have the words ready, but she still does, and he cuts her right off. "I know this is hard. I know this. You've been here for so long. I feel like I’m robbing you." And now she does see it, how a pain pulls tightly at him. He frowns almost viciously at her, his hand at his heart. "But you can't stay here. Not now – in the future, maybe, but not now, not here."

It pulls at her. It pains her so terribly that she has to fight back to hold the tears. She feels it prickle at the corners of her eyes, she feels it loosen her hold. Her hand lets go, and the cards flay down across the ground. "Why are you here?" She asks him, voice so haunted that she sees it make him flinch. "Why are you here, alone? Where is your squad? What the hell is going on, Armin?"

He watches her, eyes wide and hands tight at this sides. He breathes in, chest tight. She looks right back at him, hands trembling, and she is taken aback by how stricken he looks. "I’m sorry," he says at first, voice strained and weak. "I can't tell you. I can't. If we get caught, it's for your own good that you know very little."

"That's fine," she says, and she means it. "That's fine. I get it. Armin," she sees the way he looks at her, when she says his name. Just for a moment. As if this one sound makes his guard come crumbling down – and mercilessly at that. It makes her voice grow so quiet, the rain almost drowns it out. "Why are you here? Alone?"

She sees it. She does. For a moment he watches her, that odd, indescribable look swirling in his eyes. And then, all at once, it blooms before her – a grief so despairing that it leaves her utterly breathless. He looks, before her, flayed open, eyes so blue she thinks she may be drowning. "Because I couldn't let them keep you here," he tells her finally, quietly, letting it all out in under one breath. "I was told there was not enough time, I was told there was not enough resources, I was told there is a war brewing right under our noses and they cannot – could not – spare anything to get you back before it blew up right in our faces. Because sending you here," he says, and she sees so visibly the anger rising in him, "was worth more than getting you back home. And I bloody-well was not going to leave you here, Y/N. Not you."

"So you–"

"So I went alone. I told them they either let me, or I desert – it was their choice.” His voice quivers as he says it. Belatedly, she sees that his hands do, too. For a moment he is quiet, gasping as if just now feeling the weight of his words. His eyes glint as he looks at her, brightly and earnestly, and it knocks the wind out of her before he even says it: "I let you go once," he tells her, trembling and tender, "I’m not doing it again."

Words fail her. The air stills around her, prickling at her skin with a viciousness. She watches and watches him, kneeling in front of her, eyes wide and open to her, and she sees the panic in him sooner than she realises there are tears on her cheeks. The words leave her quickly and without her express permission: "Tell me you didn't desert."

He looks at her as if she's breaking his heart. His hands hold onto her, the strength in her shoulders waning at the contact. He watches her still with that panicked look on his face, and she feels herself cry more earnestly. Then his hands are at her cheeks, wiping at her tears, and it is so quiet when he speaks: "Please don't cry. I’m sorry. I don't know what to do."

She lets him. She weeps into his hands, sniffling helplessly as he tries and tries to stop the tears. "Armin, tell me you didn't desert." He looks at her with a shock, as if seeing her for the first time. "Walls, Armin, they will hang you."

"I didn't desert," he tells her quickly, and with a swift panic. His hands stay firmly on her cheeks. "I didn't desert. I’m sorry. I was so– I didn't desert." She feels the sleeves of his shirt on her skin, drying up her cheeks. "And they wouldn't hang me, Y/N," he says, dabbing at her skin delicately. "I’m a titan shifter. They'd feed me to some schmuck instead."

She laughs. It bursts out of her with a harshness, snorting through her tears indelicately, and she feels his hands on her back, on the back of her head, and then she is pulled to his chest so carefully that it almost pains her. So close to him, with his hand in her hair, she wills herself to not cry any longer, but she fails to do so; sniffling and wreaked with small, pitiful sobs, she is held by him firmly, up until she finally calms. Then, he speaks quietly into her hair: "You should know Hange protested their choice. You should have seen them." She feels his smile as he speaks. "All of them did. You would never have been left behind."

I know, she thinks to tell him. Then she thinks to thank him. Then she thinks of nothing at all, instead telling him, voice wretched and weak: "I’m sorry I had to go."

"It's okay."

"I’m sorry. They told me I was the best candidate for this."

"I know."

"It was an order. I could not just tell them no. I tried. I tried."

"I know, Y/N."

They stay like this. She does not know how long. She knows the rain falls and falls, she knows it grows weaker in time. She feels his cheek lean on her hair, and she knows he is looking outside as he holds her, his hands unwavering, not trembling even once.

And it is only when she finally calms, shoulders no longer shaking, cheeks finally dry, that he tells her. Watching the outside, his tone so wistful it almost takes her elsewhere, he tells her: "Well, this is not exactly the world. But at least I took you somewhere, right?"

She looks up at him. He looks down at her. She wants to wail once more – she wants it so desperately that she digs her nails into the bed of her hands to stop it from coming. Instead she looks at him, eyes wide, voice thin as she says: "You remember."

She sees it. That invisible something, pearlescent and shimmering; she sees it ghost over him so vividly, so suddenly, that it almost knocks her off her knees. Then he looks at her with a gentleness, eyes blooming with a warmth. "Of course I remember. How could I not?"

"I don't know," she admits to him simply, tongue loose and unbridled. "We were just kids."

Such a sadness passes through him. There in a flash, and gone even quicker, but she sees it now. Clear as day. It can no longer hide from her.

"We weren't just kids," he tells her. He parts from her, for just a fraction, and then her hand is in his, squeezing tightly, so tightly. "I remember. This, and everything else. Do you?"

She looks him in the eye. She yearns for something from it, that whichever burns at her within the contact between their hands. She thinks she may see it. He does not let go. And she tells him: "Of course I do."

That night, they wound tightly onto each other. He does not ask, and she does not answer – instead they both lie side by side, close to one another, bodies warm as his hand holds her gently by the back of her head. Her hand is on his chest, and she thinks, at first, that she hears his breathing stutter, but then she soon knows it did. And when she pulls herself closer – just a fraction, but enough – he makes this sound, soft and startled, one that makes her think he will say something.

He does not. Instead, he reflects her, and he pulls at her, just a little: arm closer, tighter, muscles easing as if in relief, as if being granted a permission he had been longing for this entire time. Lying there, she feels a terrible urge to come even closer, to pull her arms around him so tightly she would have trouble breathing, but she does not. Instead she lay there, and instead she takes his hand. She holds their clasped hands against her chest, holding on tightly and fiercely, and he lets her; his hold just as tight. When she sleeps, she does not let go.

dividers by arlerts-angel

tag list: @arlerts-angel @supersupper @levistealeaf @sukunascrustyfinger @nilaaaas @chiinni @dilfkentolover @arminarlertssword @bel-https @layla240 @katestrophes @er3nscottonpicker @siiyoko @ryoiii @lemontrees-things

reblogs are dearly appreciated !!! 💗 the next two (last) chapters will be an apology for the pain this one may have caused

#armin arlert #armin x reader #armin fanfiction #armin x you #armin fluff #aot fanfiction #aot headcanons #armin aot #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #eren x reader #levi x reader #jean x reader #armin arlert fanfiction #armin arlert x reader #armin arlert x you #armin x y/n #armin arlert fluff #armin arlert angst #my writing

[missmeinyourbones]

for your midnights event could you “to hide that would be so dishonest” with armin?

TO HIDE THAT WOULD BE SO DISHONEST (a. arlert)

a/n: DRUNK ARMIN DRUNK ARMIN PATHETIC DRUNK ARMIN! secret relationship, loser core, non canon au

L’s MIDNIGHTS EVENT!

Armin isn't stupid—in fact, he's borderline brilliant. So you're forced to blame it on the alcohol when he's playing dumb and you're finally able to slip away from the stifling crowd, pulling him into a private room of the messy house party to finally breathe.

As if it’s his own (it’s not), he plops on the bed with ease, empty eyes gazing up at you to see why he's been dragged away from the fun.

Your glare says it all and still, Armin actively chooses to feign innocence as he shakes his head and asks.

"What?"

"..."

"Come on, please don't look at me like that."

"..."

"I'm... sorry?"

The question mark at the end of his words is what breaks you, and with an exasperated groan, you reveal all of your cards.

"You said we'd lay low."

He sways his legs a bit as he sighs, sticking his empty hand in his pocket. He uses the other hand to bring his cup to his lips when he shrugs, "Truthfully, I kinda consider what happened 'laying low' given the circumstances."

He physically feels your gaze harden on him, something he didn't even know was possible, when you squint and hiss. "You kissing me in front of all of our friends who don't know we're dating is not 'laying low,' Armin."

You swear you see him smirk, but your boyfriend smoothly plays it off by biting his cheek and shrugging once more.

"Maybe we just have different definitions, then."

You huff and close your eyes, head slightly tilting backward to gather your ramped thoughts before you mumble.

"What happened to us waiting to tell them, huh?"

Armin rises from the stranger's bed and scratches the back of his head, "I don't know, I just—”

He struggles with his words, like a child stuttering to explain his big feelings, before he settles on a whiny, "I love you, and that's not a bad thing, right?"

You shake your head, voice getting softer, "Of course it's not."

"Well, hiding it feels wrong," he declares, crossing his arms like his opinion is solidified. "It's like—like I'm lying to everyone."

You soften, removing the half empty red solo cup from his loose grasp and placing it on the nightstand of whoever’s room your in right now.

In the dim light of the bedroom compared to the strobing reds and blues of the party, you're actually able to see Armin for one of the first times tonight. His eyes are delicate, a bit shaky as they carefully cling to your every move, like you'd single-handledly hung the stars in the sky.

And while he's pathetically drunk and in the wrong no matter the way you swing it, he's yours all the same.

"It's not lying, you're just not screaming your love for me from the rooftops," you remind him in a gentle tone, pulling his lanky arm towards you. He silently thanks you for the touch by immediately slouching his weight against you and melting onto your shoulder.

"That feels like lying to me," he mumbles against the fabric of your sweater, "and a violation of my freedom of speech."

You can't help but shake your head and smile, "You're just a little drunk and dramatic right now."

"Are you mad?"

"No," you sigh softly, fingers finding the hair by his neck as you scratch the skin gently. "It's okay, just wish we were on the same page before you stuck your tongue down my throat."

A tiny, "M'sorry," is felt against your skin.

You tug lightly on his hair, prompting him to look up at you.

"Don't be. We can talk about it more in the morning when you're disgustingly hungover, okay?"

"Okay," he immediately agrees, like a child being promised the world and then some, "love you."

"I love you too."

Armin straightens his back, taking a deep inhale and shaking out his arms a bit. You smile when you hand his drink back to him, and while he accepts it, he carefully holds it up to your mouth first. You take a sip of the sugary cocktail with god knows how much alcohol poured into it, -and it tastes sweet on your tongue—a lot like how Armin did just a few minutes ago.

"Maybe no one even noticed. I mean—did you see Connie?" Armin finds his footing, convincing you that's he's a bit more sober now.

Gently grabbing your hand and making his way to the door, he continues, "He can barely open his eyes right now, let alone form a cohesive thought."

Your nose crinkles in amusement, "Can he normally form one?"

Armin blushes and pulls you along with him, "You'd be surprised."

#L’s MIDNIGHTS EVENT! #armin x reader #armin arlert x reader #armin x you #armin arlert x you #armin fic #armin arlert fic #armin fluff #armin angst #armin arlert fluff #armin arlert angst

[broshot]

can u please write armin being a dilf 😭🤭

a/n: thank you for the req!! I didn't quite know what to do w this one but I hope you enjoy it anyway♡ english isn't my first language btw so sorry for bad writing

cw/tw: fluff, mentions of nsfw, afab!reader, cursing, you and armin have a child, jealousy (so slight angst?) + comfort (reassuring), pet names, kissing check end for more notes

summary: you get jealous/mad because armin is being "too friendly" w the moms at your child's kindergarten so you give armin the cold shoulder and stop giving him attention! (but armin is not bad at reassuring)

♡♡♡

he was the hot topic among the mothers at the kindergarten your kid went to.

you couldn't help but overhear the mothers as they called your man hot, how could you not hear? "he's so sexy!" "such a shame he's taken.." "what a man!" they'd whisper knowing damn well you could hear them.

and his friendly and nice personality didn't help the feeling of jealousy that was pooling up in your stomach either. he'd answer their stupid questions and help them in things they'd ask help for. they asked him to help them with things that a five year old kid can do.

you never told him about how you felt about these things but one day it just got too much. one of the mothers who was clearly interested in him asked him to zip the zipper of her dress back up - it had slid a bit too low when she had picked up her child earlier. and on top of that, she had the audacity to slide her hand along his chest, tugging at his tie and whispering "thank you" into his ear when armin helped her.

armin had obviously helped her, not thinking much of it. why would he, he knew he loved you and only you, and according to him the mom's just were friendly and needed help sometimes.

so he didn't quite understand why you were giving him the cold shoulder. you didn't even cuddle up in his arms after a long day at work like you usually would. hell, you didn't even look at him.

he tried to remember what he did wrong but he just couldn't get a hold of it. so he decided to ask you.

♡♡♡

he knocked on your workroom's door, waiting for you to say if he can come in or not.

you thought it was your child on the other side of the door (since your child was too short to reach the handle) so you got up from your chair and opened the door. you were met with the worried eyes of your husband instead of your child.

you tried closing the door but he was faster and placed his foot in the way.

"love, I just want to talk. is that okay?" he asked.

you hesitated a bit before nodding quickly and opening the door wider and letting him in.

he was quiet for a moment before speaking up. "so, what's up with you? you've been ignoring me for a few days now and I just can't place my finger on it."

you scoffed at him. "you can't place your finger on it? you easily placed your fingers on her, though."

he was confused. "what are you talking about?"

"you haven't noticed how hungrily they look at you? the mother's at kindergarten."

he raised his eyebrow slightly. "I don't know what you're talking about. they're just being friendly and so am I."

"just being friendly? are you serious? they want to fuck you, armin."

he was taken aback by your statement but before he could reply, you continued: "they keep whispering about it knowing damn well I hear them, too. and you let them ask you all those stupid questions and help them with those things they could do themselves!

kenny's mother asked you to zip up her dress two days ago, remember? wasn't zaylin's mother right next to her? she could've helped her but no, kenny's mom decided to ask you instead! you saw how small that dress was, she was obviously trying to seduce you." you kept rambling. he was listening.

"I saw how she tugged at your tie, armin, she would've ripped her clothes off right there and then if there were no people around. do you even love me anymore?"

he gasped at your last statement, looking a bit offended. "of course I love you!"

he didn't say anything for a while after that. he was collecting his thoughts, finally putting the pieces together and understanding why you were mad.

"I'm sorry," he started. "I didn't understand she meant that and now that I think about it, zaylin's mother could've definitely helped her instead of me. I'm glad there were people around, I don't want to see her naked, absolutely not. you're so much more hotter." he said and you tried to find the humor in his eyes. from anyone else, words like that would've seemed like a joke but he would've never joked about that so you believed him.

"I love you more than anything. I'm really glad you told me about how you feel, I swear I'll do better. I won't talk to the mother's anymore unless it's something super important like a child in danger. and I definitely don't want to fuck any of the mom's."

you smiled at the last sentence but wiped your smile away before he could see. you've already forgiven him, but you definitely haven't forgiven the mothers.

"and you're sure about that?" you asked him once more.

"I'm 100% positive about it. I only love you and I only want you." he reassured. and to be honest, he was feeling a bit bold at the moment so he took a step towards you and leaned down to whisper something in your ear.

"I've been inside you plenty of times you know, and nothing could ever beat the feeling. nothing and no one." he smirked.

♡♡♡

I hope you enjoyed♡ (if you want me to write dilf!armin some other way let me know! (example: headcanons pls keep recommending stuff for me to write

kinda thinking about making a part 2 to this where they do the dirty in a bathroom at the kindergarden parents meeting tbh, I wanna teach the moms a lesson (they wouldn't get caught but they'd definitely know what happened when they see your messy hair and all the lipstick marks on his neck!

MASTERLIST

#armin aot #armin x you #armin arlert fluff #armin arlert x reader #armin arlert smut #dilf armin #aot smut #attack on titan smut #aot fluff #aot angst #attack on titan angst #attack on titan fluff #armin arlert angst #armin arlert x you #armin imagine #armin attack on titan #armin arlet headcanons #armin arlet smut

[sea-you-in-paradise]

☽ ⛧  a r m i n   a r l e r t ‘ s   s l e e p i n g   h a b i t s  ⛧ ☾

summary - a *painstaking* list of every (sfw :/) sleep-related armin thought

word count - 1.954

setting - canonverse implied, but can be applicable to modern au

features - armin :)))

genderneutral!reader (implied established relationship)

warnings - implied nsfw

note: here is a link to the nsfw part 2 (MDNI!)

before he goes to sleep, armin utilizes every waking minute to the fullest extent. 

- if he’s coming up with a plan of some sort, he will not sleep until he’s gone through every possible outcome he can think of

- spends time getting ahead of future work so he can never get behind

- sometimes he will get really lost in his books (obviously)

- most of the time, he pushes himself to stay awake far past the limit of what is considered “normal”

he’s trying to tire himself out enough to avoid nightmares

- he can go about 50 hours without napping, but tries to sleep before that (at least in small intervals) because he jokes that he can feel his brain cells dying. if he’s up for this long, it’s usually because he’s in the field/in charge of something that will effect a lot of people

- his naps are long enough to recharge a bit, but not normally long enough for more than 1 REM cycle

____________________

*however* when he actually sleeps (and i mean like a real sleep. all it takes is a semi-comfortable bed/couch and no responsibilities until 10:00 the next day), armin sleeps.

- the minute this man’s eyes shut for the evening, good luck getting them to open again. needless to say, he’s a heavy sleeper

- despite refusing to admit how tired he is while he’s awake, once he’s under a comforter it would take a fucking fire to get him to stand up again

- an unburdened armin needs a minimum of 10 hours, but ideally 15 (ofc, if he were to actually sleep that much more than twice a month, he would freak out and feel like he’s missing his life)

____________________

- he likes to wear either flannel or cotton pajama pants and a long-sleeved shirt, and he likes it when you borrow each other’s clothes to wear to bed, especially when you’re apart (either to wear or just to have for the smell lol)

- if you go to bed at the same time and you have some sort of skincare routine, he really likes to watch and learn about what all the products do. bonus points if you do his skincare too. sometimes he’d probably keep you company while you do this even if he’s not going to sleep yet

- he’s really meticulous about brushing his teeth for a long time (canonverse specific, iykyk ;-;)

- if it’s up to him, he prefers bedding he can sink into. cushy mattress and either a duvet or comforter with a really plush blanket in case he gets chilly (he will get chilly. he is always cold. he sleeps in socks)

- he likes a pretty firm pillow tho because neck support > sleeping on a cloud

- right side of the bed is his preference, but he would give it up in a heartbeat for you

- sleeping position varies. usually he sleeps on his side, but he also sleeps on his back sometimes bc he has back pain and he doesn’t want to strain it more :( 

- if he’s alone he sleeps facing towards the door bc he’s anxious. if you’re there, he likes it when you face each other or if one of you rests their head on the other’s chest

- if you move away from him, he will notice because he’ll get cold and he’ll move towards you again

- he doesn’t snore or breathe heavily, but he occasionally does the thing where he has little gasps or sharp inhales

____________________

- he does what he can to prevent dreaming, but it still happens sometimes

- if he has nightmares it usually comes with night sweats and crying in his sleep. he doesn’t move a lot tho and he doesn’t wake you up on purpose. when he wakes up, it’s not some big jolt. his eyes shoot open and he takes in his bearings before getting up to change his clothes and get some water. when he comes back, he’s careful to get into bed really softly and then he’ll hold you as you sleep. if you wake up, please hold him back and run your fingers through his hair :(

- his nightmares are usually anxiety/regret/remorse related. he’ll talk about them after they happen sometimes and cry a little bit if you’re awake and he feels like it, but he doesn’t like to talk about them in the morning

- most nights he’s too tired to dream tho, so it’s okay ;-; no it’s not, he just says that

____________________

- armin is not a morning person.

- as a matter of fact, if he gets less than his 10 hours, he is a certified grump. and he is so embarrassed about it

- he does everything he can to prevent it. like going to bed early if he can make himself or budgeting time into his schedule to stay in bed for longer, but he cannot stop the inevitable- if anyone, including you, tries to make him get up, he is a little bitch. 

____________________

the morning of a day off/day with few responsibilities might go something like this:

- armin goes through three stages once he’s been woken up: pouting, bargaining, and complete loss of filter. he will go through a version of these stages whether he is forcing himself to wake up, is woken up by a friend, or by you. as his partner, it’s usually you who is subject to this trio of events, even if you’re the gentlest, most loving person in the world

- if you must wake him up, he likes it when you stroke his arm/back and whisper softly. it takes some time, but he’ll eventually make a whiny noise and move around a little (if this isn’t your style, a more take-no-shit approach will be briefly detailed later)

- the pouting stage is exactly what it sounds like and it will be the shortest of the three. he’ll pull his covers a lot tighter and turn on his stomach so he can block the light easier and in the prettiest voice bc it’s all pouty, but also raspy from sleep, he’ll say something like, “baby, it’s so early, i don’t think it’s time yet.”

- then, when he’s more aware of the situation, he’ll turn to you and choose one of three options: a) he’ll ask for ten more minutes and promise not to complain when you wake him up again (lies). b) he’ll ask you for cuddles until he’s more awake. if you agree, it absolutely will not wake him up more, he will drift off again even if you’re talking to him. if you agree and you don’t have anything super important going on soon, he will try to make you fall back asleep too so he has an even better excuse for not showing up. c) he will attempt to seduce you. this sometimes follows option b (see note above for link to the nsfw hcs for more on this one)

- if you survive the bargaining stage and armin realizes that you’re not giving up, he will put on his grump face. it’s a cross between a pout and a glare, and it is rather amusing

- BUT unless you want him to be mean (and not in a fun hot way), do not make fun of him for the face. if you do, you’re going to realize that armin’s observation skills really do come in clutch and you’re going to start wondering about all of the things you do around him without noticing

- it would be like : “it’s so funny when you make that face” and then he fake smiles and in a totally innocent voice says something like, “aww, i’m sure it’s not as funny as you having broccoli in your teeth at dinner last night! It was in there like all night. sorry i didn’t tell you, it was just so funny.”

- he definitely apologizes for this later and most of the time assures you that he wasn’t being serious, but sometimes he is being serious. and the worst part is that you’ll never know all the embarrassing things he’s noticed you doing that he just doesn’t say anything about

- if you don’t make fun of the face though, you will stumble across a prime opportunity

- as someone who likes to lie in bed for a bit (forever) after waking up, armin will probably fall back asleep if he’s not doing something. so what better way to make sure he wakes up than to gossip with him?! with no filter, armin will say what he is honestly thinking about the people around him, and more often than not, he has some strong opinions

- tbh it’s just shit talking floch most of the time and he tells you what he finds annoying about everyone in the friend group (jean gets on his nerves the most)

____________________

- if you’re the kind of person who will not baby him, mad respect to you. it would go more like this

- if you wake him up abruptly, he will be very surprised every single time. normally, he would find you’re assertive tendencies hot. this is not one of those times. assuming you leave immediately after waking him, armin will run through his stages on his own. he will fall asleep in either the pouting or bargaining stage. then stage 3 will be taken out on you when he finally pulls himself out of bed. he will go find you and be snarky, no gossiping, only sass. it is unbecoming, but also hilarious

____________________

- regardless of how things play out, when armin finally “gains consciousness,” he is usually a bit mortified. he knows it was so nice of you to wake him up and he feels so bad for being grumpy (and for being so candid about his thoughts on Jean’s unrequited love), but his brain is always working overtime and sometimes there are some really positive benefits to his morning alter ego. the selfish parts of him don’t really feel like giving it up, especially if you don’t mind. that being said, he only apologizes for behavior he intends to change, so if this sort of morning routine is okay with you, he doesn’t really have anything to say sorry for. he’s so grateful that you have so much patience and love for him and he’s glad that there’s someone who is willing to help him stay punctual <333

____________________

- once in a blue moon on these days off, armin wakes up before you (he’s well rested sometimes???) and if that happens he will move closer to you and wrap his arms around you

- if you have long enough hair he will brush it off your forehead. tuck it behind your ears, fix your bonnet, move your braid(s)/ponytail to a more comfy position (etc). he just likes being tentative 

- MORNING FOREHEAD KISSES AJDFADJFLDFEW

- even if he is awake, he will do everything in his power to stay in bed with you for as long as humanly possible

- on days when he has actual responsibilities, armin is pretty good about being punctual, but he will still stay in bed as long as humanly possible and go through a shortened version of his routine. he’s good about being places on time, but it doesn’t mean he is in a good mood

____________________

- and finally, despite everything, he doesn’t drink caffeine in the morning. he is a firm believer that a cold glass of water will wake him up faster. since he doesn’t eat much for breakfast, he doesn’t want to get jittery

#grumpy pouty slightly manipulative armin who wants to spend all day in bed with me will forever live rent free in my mind #yes jean gets on his nerves but dw he loves him sm jearmin rise #but jearmin cant rise too much bc i want him pls #if you read all this you get a gold star #what a fucking anthology #armin arlert x reader #armin arlert headcanons #armin arlet x reader #armin arlert #armin arlet #armin x reader #aot headcanon #armin arlert angst #armin arlert fluff

[n-agiz]

GLIMPSE OF USㅤ ex boyfriend! armin arlert x gn! reader — angst + smut [ 0.5k+ wc ] cws creampie ! MDNI

ㅤ your relationship with armin was a part of your past you knew you would never get back. you had already moved on even, found a new lover, someone who treated you just as well as him — still, you couldn't help but see him everywhere.

you couldn't help it.

and you felt extremely guilty over it, but you still didn’t seem able to stop it.

you and armin had broken up months ago, the mark of a year since the end of your relationship closer than you felt like it should be, but somehow, he still lingered in your mind far too often. you had moved on, or at least tried to, found yourself a new partner, one just as loving and kind, one who by some coincidence also had pretty blue eyes and light blonde hair, one who by some funny trick of destiny had a sweet voice all too similar to armin’s and who even seemed to share some mannerisms with him. that was all just by chance though, obviously, the idea of chasing after someone simply because they reminded you of your ex absolutely delusional, right? either way, inevitably, he reminded you of armin, and as your new boyfriend hovered over you, eyes stuck below, attentive to how his hips crashed against yours and to how your bodies moved together, you couldn’t help but be reminded of your previous lover, of your first love, the one who taught you so much about life and kindness and even love itself, the one who for the longest time warmed your heart and made you feel cared for. the chances of you getting back to him were minimal, non-existing even, but he still occupied your thoughts even while someone else kissed down your neck and thrusted into you, the image of him permanently burnt into the back of your head to the point that even when you tried your hardest, you still couldn’t erase or see past it.

“you feel so good, baby…” your boyfriend murmured against your skin, moaning into you and holding you harder, his climax very obviously close. you wished you could reply to him, tell him that he also made you feel amazing and that you were just as close to falling over the edge as him — but none of that was true, because although he was the one on top of you touching you, he wasn’t the one you were thinking about, armin the one you imagined was pleasuring you in that moment. instead, you simply hummed, a low moan fleeing your lips as you looked elsewhere, eyes focusing on the ceiling above you, and as your brows furrowed, yet another mewl bubbling in your throat as you felt ropes of thick warm cum filling you, a single tear drew down your face, lids falling close as you restrained yourself from letting out anything else apart from wordless whines, scared you would accidentally moan your ex’s name. maybe that would be for the best, the realization that you were still too caught up on someone else hopefully enough to make your boyfriend realize you weren’t worth his time, a break up the best thing he could do for himself in that moment — but at the same time, you couldn’t bring yourself to make that impending doom come any sooner into his life than it eventually would, not because of some altruistic reason like you not wanting to harm his feelings, but because as long as you were with him, you would always get a glimpse of what you and armin had, a glimpse of how he made you feel while you were his, and for the time being that seemed enough of a motive to keep toying with the feelings of someone who loved you so dearly.

N-AGIZ '22ㅤ REBLOGS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED !

#angst #armin arlert angst #armin angst #aot angst #attack on titan angst #smut #aot smut #attack on titan smut #armin arlert #aot armin #attack on titan armin #armin x reader #armin x gn reader #armin x y/n #armin arlert x reader #armin arlert x y/n #armin x you #armin arlert x you #aot x reader #aot x gn!reader #aot x y/n #aot x you #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan x gender neutral reader #attack on titan x you #armin drabble #armin arlert drabble #aot drabbles #attack on titan drabble #snk x reader

[ghostlygeto]

“I didn’t know where else to go” with armin pls? you know the vibes 🤙🏻🖤

i rewrote this 3 times bc i couldn’t get it right. but i think i like this version :’) the ending is meh but i hope you’ll forgive me <3

pairing: armin arlert x reader

warnings: angst!!!!!!! but happy(?) ending. eren is a shit bag (nothing srs, has a bad temper but doesn’t go into details), armin loves u so bad but was mean :( not proof read

wc: 710

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

2:33am.

You didn't know who was pounding on your at this hour, but you were ready to lay into them. You didn't have any missed calls or texts, so you knew it wasn't one of your friends in an emergency. However as soon as you looked through your peephole and saw a very upset looking Armin, all of your anger went away.

As soon as you opened the door, he practically fell into your arms. If he had come to you this way six months ago you'd be less confused, but now it's different. You broke up and haven't spoken in nearly half a year. So Armin, finding himself at apartment door at nearly 3am, was strange.

"Armin are you okay? What are you doing here?" You slowly sank down right there in your doorway so you were both seated on the floor, "Is everyone okay?"

Armin just shook his head, trying to calm himself down. He didn't mean to show up here, not at nearly 3am when he knew you had an early class the next day. Not when you hadn't spoken in six months because of something he said to you.

"I'm sorry, y/n. I didn't know where else to go," He leaned away from your shoulder and rubbed his eyes with the backs of his hands. "Eren got shitty again, y'know how he does. He threatened me and made me leave and I just. I didn't have anywhere else," He didn't even have here, he knew that. He was overstepping being here.

But that didn't matter. You knew what Eren was like when he lost his temper, you had been on the receiving end of it a few times. It was scary. "I told you you could always come here if he ever got bad, I meant it." Even though it killed you to see Armin right now, you'd rather him be here safe than there. "I'd never want you to stay where you aren't safe."

For some reason, that made him cry harder. He couldn't remember if he even got to apologize to you. All he wanted was for this to be okay again. To go back to how they were before. "I'm sorry, y/n."

"You don't have to be sorry. Let's stand up okay? Go to the couch. Do you want some hot coco?" You rubbed his back before standing up and offering him your hand, "The way you like it."

Despite you keeping your composure, you felt like you were about the burst. Part of you wanted to yell at him, for coming here in the middle of the night when you told him you never wanted to see him again. But the other part of you felt thankful, you missed him. You missed his smell, the way he said your name, the way he felt so right next to you.

You felt his absence as soon as you stood. Your heart begging for him to reclaim his spot next to you. But he didn’t. He went to the couch as you instructed.

“You can stay here tonight if you need,” You offered, hanging him his hot chocolate the way he loves it best, with a little bit of cinnamon and lots of mini marshmallows. “I have class in the morning but I can miss if you need me to.”

“y/n no I could never ask you to miss class, especially not tomorrow morning’s. It’s important for your major,” Armin shook his head, dismissing your words. Now that he was calmed down, he felt dumb. Running to you like a little kid because his friend yelled at him. He should’ve just locked himself in his room and waited it out like he usually would.

“Making sure you’re okay is more important than anything else,” You admitted, “I’m sure someone can send me their notes for the day. I want to stay here with you,”

Something about your tone of voice and the look on your face told Armin all he needed to know. Tomorrow, after you would both wake up in different rooms of your apartment, he would apologize. He’d beg for your forgiveness and ask that you give him a second chance.

And you’d say yes without hesitation.

angst sentence prompts

comments, reblogs, requests n likes appreciated <3

#attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyoujin #snk #armin arlert #armin aot #armin x reader #armin arlert x reader #armin angst #armin arlert angst #armin drabble #armin x y/n #mine !!

[simp-is-here]

More “Imagine This Fic While I Procrastinate Instead Of Writing”

If you end up using this ideas then please @ me, I really wanna know what you guys come up with

I’m going a bit different here, imagine a couple different anime scenarios

(Possible spoilers)

Obey Me: Lucifer x reader, mention of either Mammon, Solomon, or Diavolo x reader

Rejecting either Mammon, Solomon, or Diavolo for Lucifer, then after Lucifer loses his memories and doesn’t remember your relationship you’re talking to either Asmo, Simeon, or Barbatos about Lucifer forgetting everything and the person who once asked to stay by your side: and you have this conversation

Attack on Titan: person x reader, mention of Armin x reader

You’re lover died in the final battle, now that everything is starting to calm down a bit you’re talking to one of your friends (whoever you want), confiding in them about how you’re so lonely, and are hoping for another marriage proposal from your best friend Armin, not wanting to hear them say that it wouldn’t be fair to Armin if you settle

Mystic Messenger: character x reader, mention of either Yoosung, 707, or Zen x reader

After a bad breakup with whichever love interest you want, you’re talking with Jaehee about how (I imagine Yoosung, 707, or Zen) said they would love you forever, hoping so badly that they’d stay true to their word, even if you didn’t feel the same

Bungou Stray Dogs: past Dazai x reader, mention of Chuuya x reader

After Dazai left the Port Mafia you struggled with losing a valuable coworker, friend, and lover. While having a drink with Kouyou, you tell her that you’re hoping Chuuya will tell you once again that he loves you. And hopefully you won’t be alone anymore if he does

#obey me shall we date #obey me fic #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me mammon #obey me mammon x reader #obey me solomon x reader #obey me diavolo x reader #obey me diavolo #obey me angst #attack on titan #attack on titan fic #attack on titan armin #armin arlert x reader #attack on titan angst #armin arlert angst #mystic messenger #mystic messenger x reader #yoosung kim x reader #saeyoung choi x reader #zen x reader #mystic messenger angst #bungo stray dogs dazai #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs angst #chuuya nakahara x reader #Chuuya nakahara angst

[134340am]

on borrowed time

armin arlert x gn!reader, 0.6k, sfw  all the same — nick wilson tethered — rationale sorry — 6LACK

you watch as armin strolls across the quad with his pretty new girlfriend on his arm, toting a cardboard carrier of drinks from your favourite on-campus coffee shop. 

“armin’s new girlfriend is really pretty,” you muse, keeping your tone as neutral as possible while sipping on your own watered down coffee. 

“well, you’re prettier in your… in your own unique way, babe!” eren pipes up beside you.

“it’s fine, eren. you can just say i’m ugly.”

“no, i really mean it—”

“shut up, eren. you’re making things worse.” mikasa sounds out from next to you. he quietens down then, sulking while pulling the sleeves of his hoodie over his hands. the weather’s been particularly cold lately, though you wonder if that had more to do with the sight before you.

you watch armin pick up a grape on a fork and extend it to his girlfriend. she doesn’t let him feed her—instead plucking the fork from his fingers and popping the grape into her mouth, before handing it back to him. armin only smiles at this, the same stupid smile he wears for everything. 

you’ve seen it too much not enough an uncountable number of times: before and after he kisses you, when he’s greeting your parents, when he’s buying you coffee and walking you to class, when he’s feeding you grapes that he peeled and deseeded by hand, because he knows you like the taste but not the texture of the little green fruit.

it hurts because it wasn’t even a bad breakup. 

there was no screaming, no shouting, no ripping up his books or burning his shirts or swearing revenge on him in every lifetime. there was only a fair talk, in which he cried and you cried harder, followed by a hug, a handshake, and a box of your things returned to you, packed nice and neat like a christmas present. 

if only it was as pleasant to receive. 

a part of you wondered if he had planned this long ago. if there was a tipping point where he realised the two of you couldn’t be together forever, as promised (but not guaranteed). or maybe it was a slow and smooth slide to strangerland for you and armin and armin and you.  

it hurts because it was a considerably good breakup, and it hurts that armin could live life like normal and share fruit with his new lover on the quad while you were stuck picking up the pieces.

all around you, the quad was full of life, with students milling about discussing the lecture they just had or talking about lunch plans.

even on either side of you, mikasa and eren were talking about partnering up for a group project in their big data class—probably in a bid to distract you. 

and while life goes on as per normal, while the ice in your coffee melts and the earth continues to spin without missing a day, you’ve never felt more stagnant or alone. 

you sink into yourself, small, elbows meeting your knees on instinct, and tell yourself that maybe you deserve this—the burning of hot tears in the back of your eyes, the kick in your gut as your sobs shake your body, the way you choke on the bitter seeds of regret that sit heavy on the back of your tongue. 

maybe you deserve this grief.

maybe you should’ve seen it coming.

between hiccups, you can barely make out the distressed voices of your friends on either side of you.

you feel their hands running up and down your spine, patting your hair, squeezing your shoulder, telling you that it’s just a breakup and to give it time and that everything will be okay. 

that’s easy for them to say. eren and mikasa, mikasa and eren—they’ve had each other forever. their whole lives. maybe in their previous lives, too. 

and you?

well, you had armin for a while. 

and then you didn’t.

(masterlist)

#armin arlert x reader #armin x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #armin angst #armin arlert angst #aot angst #attack on titan #aot #armin #armin arlert #yuna writes #yuna will stick to writing fluff from now on

[stanurines1mp]

Wanting You

A decision to be made… A path to her life… Erika Smith found her answer. From Attack On Titan / Shingeki No Kyojin, An Armin Arlert x OC Story.

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚

𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝔫𝔢𝔵𝔱 → 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

Hello everyone!

Firstly, I want to thank you for choosing to read this book. I do hope you enjoy it! If you're reading this on Wattpad, please vote and leave some comments. I love reading comments :))If you're reading this on Tumblr, please don't forget to like and leave some comments too! It would mean a lot if y'all share this story :) And if you have any comments or feedback about my writing, feel free to let me know. I'm always open to improving my writing skills :)

As you know, I clearly do not own any of the characters except for my OC, Erika Smith. I also do not own the plots, excluding the ones I personally created for this story. The rest of the characters and plot belong to the one and only genius Hajime Isayama, the author of Shingeki No Kyojin / Attack On Titan.

A little FYI, I am not a fan of writing many battle scenes. And in this story, I skipped quite a lot and instead just summarized it. I tried to focus more on the story of my character. May be a bit rushed but I hope it works. Tbh, I think I'm a little rusty because I took a really long break of writing to focus on school :)

Anyway, here are some trigger warnings. Please let me know if I missed anything!

1. Mentions of death.

2. Mentions of gore. 

3. Blood.

4. Angst.

5. A few cuss words.

 I will put warnings in each chapter if needed, just to be sure :)

Once again, thank you very much for choosing this book!

If you're interested, I have more fics published and you can check them out on my profile! 

Tumblr: stanurines1mp

Wattpad: stanurines1mp

I hope you enjoy it!!!

-Nawal S.A.-

#attack on titan #aot #snk #shingeki no kyojin #aot angst #aot romance #attack on titan angst #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan romance #snk angst #snk romance #snk fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin angst #shingeki no kyojin romance #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction #armin arlert #commander armin arlert #armin #armin arlert fanfiction #armin arlert angst #armin arlert fluff #armin arlert romance #armin arlert x oc #armin x oc #armin fanfiction #armin angst #levi ackerman #erwin smith #eren jaeger #mikasa ackerman

[missmeinyourbones]

don’t want no other shade of blue but you ｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

armin arlert x reader | wc: 0.7k+ | L’s FOLKLORE event

You often find yourself thinking of a lingering piece of advice. Like a constant comfort, it sits on your shoulder as it reminds you like a broken record.

Stare at the horizon to avoid motion sickness. 

You think of it when you’re riding shotgun on a long drive, eyes glued to the melting sunset as trees pass by in a blur. You thought of it the handful of times you’ve been at sea, on a ferry or something similar, as you watch the ocean waves bump up and down against the consistent parallel skyline. You’re thinking of it now, even though you’re stagnant as you sit perched at the windowsill of your living room’s pane.

The sunset is blue, which is a bit odd compared to its usual abstracts of pinks, purples, and oranges. The pastel sapphire sets over the neighboring houses in your area as you watch it seep further into a deep denim the closer it reaches the horizon.

A blue sunset. It’s funny, you think, how fitting it is for a moment like this.  

Armin sits directly beside you on the loveseat for two—instead of the usual tender touches shared on the cushions, the two of you keep a fair distance between one another. 

It’s a weird thing, to be sad together. It’s a special, sickening category of comfort. Knowing you’re not alone in your blue, knowing your lover isn’t feeling yellow without you. 

“I’m sorry,” you manage to squeak out. 

Armin’s eyes find your face, expecting you to say more. However, he’s met with silence as your gaze stays locked in on the horizon through the smudged window glass.

“For what?” he innocently presses. 

You adjust your body against the windowsill so that it faces him slightly, so he can feel your warmth, even if you can’t feel it for yourself. “That you’re sad,” your response is dry. 

Armin almost smiles at your sincere apology. 

Tenderly, he touches you for the first time since the two of you came home—his finger carefully catches the tear that threatens to fall from your waterline. He lets the droplet sit on his digit for a moment, before pressing it into his own skin, almost as if he’s comforting the salt-water. 

“You’re sad, too,” he points out. 

A watery and snotty laugh escapes your throat, and you're not too sure if it’s one of humor or irony. 

“I know, but,” a shaky exhale breaks up your thoughts, “I’m sorry that we have to feel this way together.” 

Armin knows what you’re trying to say, the intention you’re begging to get across through labored breathing and minimal words. He knows, because he understands you. He even agrees to a point. 

Sure, while he does wish the two of you were feeling happy together, he’s grateful to be feeling anything together at all. He’ll take what he can get. He’ll accept anything he’s given from you with open arms and an open mind. 

So he sheepishly speaks up, "I don’t think that I’d want to feel this way with anyone else."

Your eyebrows sink inwards with confusion, “What?”

With an inhale, he gently rests his hand atop of your own on the framing of the loveseat. His palm is chilly compared to your clammy fingers. 

“I’m happy to be with you,” he yearns, “even if it’s like this.”

Like this—rainy and grey and terribly grim. The not-so-pretty parts of love that come with a relationship, with an eternal promise to one another no matter the weather.  

Armin wants all of you—even your blue, as long as it means he gets your yellow, too. 

"I wouldn't want anyone else's sadness," he hums into your temple, leaving a tender peck to the sensitive skin that’s cold against his lips. 

Because there's far more to love than just the good—the light and airy that goes down easy like an expensive top-shelf liquor. There's the heavy and dense, the depths you didn’t even think you could sink to. There's the moments that don’t feel real—they feel abstract, like shades and hues and tints of blue.

Sure, love is who you choose to feel elated with, whose laughter you immediately search for after you crack a joke. But, it’s also who you choose to be sad with, whose dark days you choose to wait out the rain with. Whose storm you’d sit in the eye of. 

With your hand beneath his, Armin knows that he would spend ten lifetimes over in a cramped car or bouncing boat, with the worst motion sickness in the history of mankind, if it meant doing it with you. 

He would stare at your horizon for centuries.

@134340am yuna...this lyric means a lot to me and i tried to do it justice but i really dont think i did LOL so pls know that im so sorry. its just so special !!!! the idea of choosing to be with someone through sadness, choosing to welcome it as you would their happiness or anger or WHATEVER! its so sweet and i really tried to make that armin’s clear intent when interacting w reader. just two lovers being sad. together <3 but yea this isnt good but i wanted to try for u ;0

#armin arlert #armin x reader #armin arlert x reader #armin drabble #armin arlert drabble #armin fic #armin arlert fic #armin angst #armin fluff #armin arlert angst #armin arlert fluff #L's FOLKLORE event!

[p0ssywhippedcream]

Armin Quickies;

- Armin is a whiner, and incredibly loud during blowjobs

#armin masterlist #armin x reader smut #armin arlert x reader smut #armin #armin arlert #armin arlert x reader #armin x reader #oph.quickies #snk armin #armin attack on titan #armin smut #armin fluff #armin angst #armin arlert smut #armin arlert fluff #armin arlert angst

[deathberi]

The places we wanted to go.

#erearu angst hitssss sooooo hardddd :c #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #snkedit #snk spoilers #armin arlert #eren jaeger #eren yeager #anime gif #animeedit #eri gifs #anime #* #snk #aot

[splaede]

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

☰ pairings: Armin x Reader, Slight Eren x Reader

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

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

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

☰ CHAPTER SIX. armin's first

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

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

wc: 9.7k

☰ table of contents | previous chapter | next chapter

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

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

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

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

That you shouldn’t be doing this.

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

Will your roommate be home soon?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you. So…can we keep going?” 

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

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

“Yeah,” he replied breathlessly and nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were the first to pull away for air. 

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

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

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

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

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

What now?

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

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

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

It was late, you remembered again. 

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

You wondered if he could hear yours, too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No…” 

“Then what?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not that'd you stop now. 

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

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

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

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

“Can I carry you?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sure,” he answered quickly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is this Eren’s sweater?”

Oh. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pants, too,” you whispered softly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

But it was just Armin, you reminded yourself. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because he was a genuine guy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.” 

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

“Is this good?” he asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded as the pleasure spread through your lower body. He wasn’t the best, but he wasn’t bad in the slightest. He made you feel good, nonetheless. The pads of his fingers were warm and smooth, rubbing all the right ways against your clit. 

“You wanna move down now?” you asked. 

Wordlessly, his eyes flicked down to your entrance, and the urge to clamp your legs shut returned to you again. You were dripping—you had to be, slick with your wetness pooling around your center. He lingered for a second before his attention diverted back onto your face. 

“Show me how.” He said, adamant. 

“Just know that…” Your fingers ghosted over his knuckles. “You don’t have to necessarily make me cum. This is just to stretch me out. To prep for the real thing.”  

He regarded you with a tiny frown and peered at you hungrily through his long lashes. “What if I want to?” 

Your heart skipped a beat and your stomach simmered with warmth. 

“Well, you can.” You nodded and swallowed the lump in your throat, unsure of what to say. Taking his hand in yours, you isolated his middle and ring fingers and held them close to your entrance. As you did so, something tingled and churned inside your stomach. Nervousness, you thought, apprehension, maybe. Not in a bad way, but in the way that every next step with him left you remembering just how private and raw this was. 

“Just like that,” you whispered. 

With a gulp, his fingers slid into your soaked cunt. You were so wet and tight, and you knew he could feel it. Feel it envelop his finger, warm and so, so slick. You instinctively clamped down on him as he pushed further. 

“Oh, God…Y-Y/N,” he all but stuttered out. “Is—is this what it…”

The desperation showed clearly on his face: lips parted, brows knitted, and eyes drooping with lust.

You grabbed his wrist. “K—Keep going.” 

His fingers reached their hilt inside of you, and you had to resist squeezing down on him. He felt like no other guy you’d been with. Because he really wasn’t any other guy. 

He pulled them out swiftly, fingers and knuckles now tainted with the remnants of you. “What—what else?” he choked out. 

The absence of his fingers left you wanting more. With your grip still on his wrist, you tugged his hand closer to your center. “Curl your fingers like this. When you’re inside.” You choked, too, and cleared your throat. “Just keep moving.”

“Like this?” He entered you again, gently, and pressed against a spot inside you that drove your hips to lurch off the bed. 

You nodded weakly, whining. “More.” Your hand on his wrist urged him out, pulling backward. Confused, he slightly resisted. But when you pushed him back in, he seemed to understand the hint.  

Armin pressed into you, thrusting his fingers in and curling them right at that sweet spot that had you gasping out. He slid in and out so easily, guided by the slickness of your insides, and worked slowly, almost teasingly, but you squeezed his arm, encouraging him.

“Right there,” you gasped out. “You’re doing so good.” 

He groaned in response, a borderline moan. “H—Here?” And curled right into your G-spot. 

You let out an abrupt gasp, akin to a stuttered breath, hips bucking upwards as pleasure seeped into your insides. His pace was reckless, but the calculated way the pads of his fingers pushed and grazed against your G-spot had your stomach twisting and your heart racing. 

Beside you, you noticed his other hand fisting the bedsheets. Reaching out, you put a hand on top of his. “You okay?” you asked breathily.

Armin glanced up at you, eyes blown out, pupils dilated in such a starved, animalistic way that looked so out of character. He surprised you by lacing his fingers between yours. 

“Can I kiss you? Please?” 

It caught you off guard, but you didn’t get to register your shock before you were crying loud with a particularly hard thrust. “Please. Please.” You didn’t know why he was even asking. 

Armin’s lips crashed onto yours, capturing you in the most heated kiss of the night. Immediately, he dominated the kiss, all spit and tongue, lips hot and molding together with a firm press. His fingers kept fucking into you relentlessly, filling the room with lewd, wet sounds. 

His other hand held yours still, squeezing once before letting go and landing on your waist. 

“Just wanna feel you,” he mumbled. 

Nodding, you strung your hands through his hair as he caressed your waist and tits. His palms grazed over your nipples, making you shudder and bite back a moan. 

The coil inside your stomach winded tight and kept winding tighter and tighter when his fingers hit that spot again. The pleasure swirled through you, wave after wave, your hips lurching off the bed and your hands gripping his hair even tighter. 

You moaned into his mouth. “So close.” 

He groaned, drawn-out, lips wet with saliva, swallowing the noises that came out of your mouth. 

“You’re doing so good,” you praised. 

Armin whimpered at that—whimpered—and picked up the pace, faster, harder. It was sloppy, but it wasn’t imprecise. He flicked up into you so perfectly until you were stretched out and dripping, and until it finally snapped. 

The coil snapped. 

“Armin, I’m—I’m cumming! Don’t stop!”

“Hol—Holy shit, Y/N—”

The coil snapped, and sweet euphoria coursed through you, rushing through you like open floodgates. You gushed onto him in the same way, cunt fluttering against the thickness of his fingers. The feeling hit you like a truck and filled you whole. 

“Can’t believe this is happening,” he mumbled under his breath in a desperate whine. 

You pulled him into a desperate kiss—or was it that he pushed the kiss onto you?—and he dipped down to embrace you. The twitching weight of his clothed cock brushed against your thigh. It wasn’t intentional—at least you didn’t think, but it only reminded you of what was to come next. 

As he slowed down, you felt your cum leaking down his knuckles and onto the bedsheets. 

“Was that…good?” Armin timidly asked between heavy breaths. Above you, he panted like a dog, even more than you, pretty pink lips parted as if he was the one being fucked. So cute. 

You stayed quiet for a moment, relishing in your subsiding orgasm, fatigued and cozy. 

“Mhm. That was amazing. You did amazing for your first time.” 

He visibly relaxed, slumped back onto his heels, and sighed. “Really? Th—Thank you.” 

Even from above you, he looked submissive, face filled with a desperate need. You giggled at his shyness. The irony of it. “Yes, Armin, you…you just made me cum. That’s…”

Uncertainty weighed down on your tongue. Impressive? Was it really impressive, or should it have been expected from him? A part of you knew that he didn’t need any effort. Not because he was somehow a natural or that he was a fast learner, but that it was him, and that gives your body enough stimulation to push itself off the edge. 

Hazy and blinded by your orgasm and the strong presence between your legs, you stopped yourself from dwelling on it any further.

“Y/N, what do I do with this…?” He lifted his hand, still slicked with your fluids. His middle and ring fingers parted further, and your shiny, milky cum stretched between his fingers. The sight almost made you gape, such a contrast to the curiosity and genuine concern brimming in his eyes. 

“Taste it.”

He sent you a look so incredulous and so quick, those blue eyes widened to the depths as if your suggestion meant total absurdity. “Taste it?”

“Taste it. It’s hot when men do that. Or, you could also make the girl taste it,” you pushed, rising from your spot. You grabbed his wrist, leading it closer to his mouth. 

He hesitated and tensed, but when his eyes met yours, you only leaned in, urging him with a look in your eyes. He complied quietly and stuck out his tongue. 

The sight was lewd. His face reddened impossibly more, up to the tips of his ears, as his mouth engulfed his two fingers wholly. He crinkled his nose so subtly that you couldn’t tell what ran through his mind. He tasted your fluids on his tongue, sucked it for a second, then swallowed. 

Armin’s fingers slid out with a little pop, and you didn’t waste another moment to cup his face and pull him in for a kiss, tasting yourself when you pressed your tongue against his. He moaned at the sudden intrusion but melted into you easily. You could already feel his improvement as he reciprocated your energy and licked your mouth so nicely that the naturalness of it baffled you. 

A passing thought in your head told you that this might’ve been too much for his first time, but when he dragged his clothed dick against your clit, you knew he enjoyed this as much as you did. You both shivered a little from the contact, prompting him to pull away.

“So…” he started, voice tiny and breathless. “What’s next?” But the way his eyes darted to your bare, leaking pussy and then to the bulge in his boxers suggested he knew exactly what came next. 

You looked, too. Looked at the tight fit of his boxers on his bulging cock. Something about it—the unexpected size of him—made you giddy. Swelled your stomach with an indescribable weirdness. 

“Take your boxers off.” Though you asked him, you couldn’t stop yourself from sneaking your hands to his hips and taking hold of the waistband. “Can I?” 

He nodded hurriedly and gulped, tension and desperation etched on his face. 

You pulled his boxers down, and with a little lift from his hips, you got them down to his strong thighs. Immediately, his cock sprung up against his abdomen, leaking precum that beaded down his red, aching tip. You licked your lips and gulped involuntarily at the sight because he was just so…

“Big…” you whispered softly. 

“What?” He sounded out of it, like his question hadn’t carried any weight, rubbing a palm over his eyelids and pushing it into his hair. Like he couldn’t believe his eyes. An unspoken awkwardness filled the air as Armin removed his boxers completely. “Is—Is something wrong?” 

He sat in front of you, naked in his entirety. Broad, smooth chest, taut, defined abs, muscly arms, thick thighs, and the softest, sweetest face that did not match the rock-hard, needy cock between his legs. 

“Armin, I…I didn’t know you were so…big.” 

He sputtered out, “W—What? I’m—I’m really not.”

He looked so nervous, so unsure. So sweet and so submissive. Instead of answering him, you wrapped both hands around his dick, lightly squeezed, and swiped a thumb over the slit where his precum spilled. You spread it down his shaft, wetting him with his own fluids. 

“Agh…fuck…” he groaned, throwing his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. When you started jerking your hands up and down the length of his dick, his head moved forward and his hands came to cup your face. His hips bucked up with every jerk. You sensed his stare, but you were too occupied playing with his pretty dick.

“You’re so beautiful,” he complimented quietly. He gulped so hard you heard the small breath that followed after. “I wish you could see how you look right now.” 

“Yeah?” you teased, looking up at him between your long lashes. His eyes, lidded and drooping with lust, scanned your body, from your face to where your legs parted and revealed your slit. 

“I don’t think you understand how pretty you are to me.” He inhaled sharply and brought a hand to squeeze the area where his shaft met his head, right over where your hand rested. “I could just cum looking at you.” 

You didn’t expect that from him. He was just so obscenely honest, wasn’t he?

“Y/N.” He suddenly stopped you with a hand on your shoulder. “I think—I think that’s good…don’t wanna take the spotlight. I’m here to please you.” 

Your chest warmed at his words, and you fought down the urge to continue pleasing him to release your hands. 

“O—Okay,” you stuttered out, gulping and shivering all in one breath. Your body moved on its own and reached for your nightstand. Deep in the last drawer, stashed behind all of your cluttered knick-knacks, sat an unopened box of condoms. Three, actually.

Shakily, under his watchful gaze, you tore apart a box and unveiled a singular, foiled package. 

"Oh, you have a lot." He stared in mild disbelief, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth, eyes crinkling. If you knew any better, you'd think he was smirking under there.

“It's not what it looks like! Sasha gifted it to me as a gag gift. I haven't done anything in a while,” you quickly defended, trailing off quietly at the end. 

He didn’t respond, eyes fixed on the package between your fingers. The air held still, deathly silent beside the sounds of the crinkling wrapper. He had a hand wrapped around the base of his cock, very lightly squeezing. 

“You know how to put on a condom?” you finally spoke up. 

“I think so.” He nodded. 

“Want to do it?” 

He hesitated, and you caught the exact moment an idea clicked in his head. “No. Want you to do it.” 

Something about that riled you up. Something about him watching you. Something about your dainty hands near his aching, needy cock, too impure for the likes of him. 

He whimpered when you started sliding the condom down the length of his cock. The sweet sound of it rang through your ears. Made your heart lurch and your stomach heavy. When you finished, your head lifted to look him in the eyes. His cheeks were flushed so pink you wanted to kiss the color off of them. 

“Ready?” You ignored the way your voice shook, borderline a stutter, and circled your arms around his neck. 

“Yes. Please,” he whined. He was speaking with his eyes—begging with his eyes.

In one fell swoop, you both clambered down onto the sheets. And in this moment, when your eyes met his in a sweet remembrance, it felt like time had stopped, and all the anticipation you’d ever felt plummeted back into the pit of your stomach and built back up all over again. 

He loomed above you, flushed, domineering, and most importantly, nervous.

You only wanted one thing. 

"Please. Need you inside me."

He inhaled a deep, unsteady breath, holding back a whine. 

Then, you felt the tip of his dick brush against the slicked mess of your opening, and you clenched around the empty, ghostly graze. The hands on your thighs pressed into you with a little more pressure at the contact. He was shaking. His whole body was shaking.

“P—Put it in slowly, ‘kay? Don’t want to hurt the other person.” 

Armin listened, and in that final moment of anticipation, he slid in slowly, just the tip. You both gasped at the feeling. You were so, so wet and your heart beat so, so fast and his skin against your skin felt so, so right and so, so warm. The stretch had yet to creep up on you but you were already squirming under his touch. 

He pushed into you, the feeling of him inside warm and fulfilling. He let out a strained “shitttt” as his hands moved to dig into your waist even harder. Eyes squeezed shut, he seemed to lose himself in the pleasure. You could tell by his labored breaths and flushed cheeks that he already was so, so sensitive.

With a final push, he bottomed out, touching a spot deep in you, far deeper than your fingers or his fingers or any other man that had come before him. And God, were you wet. Instinctively, your pussy clenched around him. 

He hissed, pinning you down with his pelvis. “Don’t. Don’t do anything. Please, or I’m going to cum.” 

And then it hit you—that you’d finally done it. That you’d just taken Armin’s virginity. 

You had. 

Shit, you clamped down on him again, and this time, he groaned and abruptly pulled out. 

“Y/N,” he warned, voice drawn with honey. “I am not going to last,” he said, exasperated. 

“It’s okay. It’s your first time.” You placed a hand on his cheek. “Besides, you’re with me. You don’t have to worry about it.” 

He leaned into your touch, nuzzling into your hands, then gave you a small frown. 

“Then how am I supposed to make you feel good?”

“Trust me. You’ll always make me feel good.”

With a cute—yet sinful—smile and a hard swallow, he lined himself up again, hands on your thighs, and gave an experimental thrust.

You whined at the intrusion, reminded again of how he fit so perfectly. How the hardness of his cock dragged so pleasantly against the slickness of your pussy. 

And he did it again and again. Thrusted into you, albeit slowly, again and again. You’d let him intoxicate you again and again until all your body knew was the shape of his cock.

He moved deliberately, relishing every inch sheathed inside of you. He’d pull out with all the time in the world, dick coated in your wetness and eyes locked on where your bodies intertwined, and thrust back in with the most fervor and impatience.

The slowness of it, the intimacy of it—you couldn’t help but buck your hips in hopes of more. 

With soft moans, his thrusts sped up, and without a warning, you felt him fully, the whole weight of him spilling inside of you. His hands slid up to your waist as his head tipped forward. You arched your back into him in a silent plea, finding yourself yearning for his pretty lips, the knot inside of your stomach swelling with pleasure. As if he could read your mind, he drowned your lips in a feverish, hot, kiss, burning your mouth with his tongue. 

Every thrust met with the slap of skin-on-skin and the squelch of your fluids. It echoed through your bedroom walls alongside your muffled, whiny moans. You let yourself sink into the pleasure, letting him know that you felt good—that he made you feel good. 

Because truly, he did nothing wrong; it all felt so right with him. 

As he broke away from the kiss, leaving yet another string of saliva between you two, you took the chance to grab his hand. 

“Play with my body. Like here.” You placed his palm onto your breast, squeezing it with his hand underneath yours. “Or here.” You sensually dragged his hand down to your slicked-up, aching clit. 

Wordlessly, he complied, gulping down a constricted moan that bobbed his Adam’s apple. Armin rubbed your clit like you’d taught him, watching your hips wriggle under his touch.  

As a reward, you tightened around him. Oh, did you like seeing him lose composure. You liked picking him apart. You liked plucking the petals off of this innocent, little flower. And judging from his dazed, barely present expression and the hands gripping hard onto your hips, you knew he liked it too.

He whined again, and the sound rang in the air in a soft whisper. So vocal, wasn’t he?

“Don’t be afraid to make noise. I wanna know how good you feel,” you asserted through lidded eyes. 

Armin hummed a noise of confirmation, but it came out more of a moan as he juggled responding to you and recklessly pounding into you. You could tell he felt good—too good—as did you. 

The ebb and flow of pleasure swam inside you with each fill of his cock into your pussy, waiting to burst. You felt so close yet far away, but you let him experiment, toying with you, trying every angle in both erratic and deliberate ways. 

“Fuck!” you both cursed simultaneously with a perfect thrust into that spot inside of you. Your back arched off the bed unwillingly, arms clasping around his back and nails digging into his skin. 

Armin moaned oh-so-sweetly. “I’m so close!” he panted out, a borderline whine. 

“Cum for me. Please, Armin. Do it.” 

And his hips never stopped. Kept fucking hastily and sloppily into you in chase of his climax and in chase of the sweet yelps pouring out of your mouth. You spurred him on, almost able to taste his final moment. 

But the moment never came. You could hear the relentless, wet smack of your colliding bodies and the mix of low groans and hearty moans tumbling from his lips. His hips still never stopped, still chasing, still tasting. 

You couldn’t believe he lasted this long. He really did want to hold out for you, to make you feel good. 

Mewling again, you tightened your arms around his neck, the warmth scalding but the softness soothing under your fingertips. “Touch me. Please.” 

His fingers pinched your perk nipple before you could even finish your sentence. He rolled the bud around with his thumb and forefinger until he heard you moan, finally laying a palm down to squeeze your entire tit—and squeezed hard. You relished in the way his hand trailed down, slowly, to where he could swipe his fingers over your throbbing clit. 

Right now, all you knew was the shape of his cock. Heat radiated from his body and wrapped around you in a warm embrace. His breath tickled your earlobe, face hovering just above the crook of your neck. 

Oh, please, it felt so good, so intimate. Everything about this. Everything about him. 

"I love you. I love you so much,” he rasped through squeezed-shut eyes.

You looked at him wide-eyed, confused, and spellbound within the haze of lust, so out of that you believed your ears played a trick on you. It slipped out of his lips so wantonly you believed he uttered the words accidentally.

Your room suddenly felt too stuffy and a hundred more degrees hotter. A lone, oddly watchful bead of sweat rolled down your brow. 

It took him only a second of your silence before he started nervously blabbering in your ear. "Um, wait, sorry. Shit. I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that. I got lost in the moment. I’m sorry.” 

He slowly inched away from you, but you paid no mind and pulled him back onto your lips. 

You didn’t care that, caught so deep in emotion and pleasure, he said “I love you” during sex—during his first time, no less. His first time with you. And now, after it happened, you didn’t care to warn him of that taboo. You wanted to selfishly indulge in the possibility that he’d always say it to you, regardless of who he shared his first time with. 

In your pleasurable bliss, you let yourself give in. “I love you too, Armin.”

He pulled away abruptly, your lips pulling apart with a wet click, disrupting the strange magnetism between the two of you. 

"I'm sorry,” he whispered, then kissed you full force. 

His love seeped into every pore of your body when he started thrusting into you again, full and hard and deep and starved. He didn’t spare you a chance to breathe with the way his mouth and cock engulfed you whole. 

A mixture of whines, moans, and smacks filled your bedroom once more. The pounding rhythm between your legs grew sloppier, though still unyielding and energetic. You wanted to cry out, louder than ever and let your neighbors know because everything felt so unexpectedly good. Armin. Your best friend. 

You ran your hands through his already-messed-up, blonde hair. You loved this look on him, a side of him that people never saw. Disheveled, falling apart, and...crazy.

He leaned back on his knees, still moving his hips, lust-filled eyes a dark, stormy blue that raked over your body. 

And he did something you didn't expect of him—like he let it slip, like he couldn't keep his composure anymore. 

He smirked down at you. 

But you were convinced it was a mere twitch in your delirium, disappearing when you blinked. 

His tip brushed your G-spot again, and you finally did cry out. “Right there! D—Don’t stop!” 

Armin groaned in response, choking on his words, and suddenly laved a tongue over the pulse point in your neck. “You feel—you feel so good! I can’t hold…!”

That coil in your stomach thrashed with the need to burst and taunted you with the promise of an orgasm. You felt tight all over, so constricted with pleasure and emotion and heat. 

“Y/N, you’re driving me crazy, I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I’m—”

“M—Me, too! I’m close. Cum for me, please.”  

With one last thrust, he came, moaning loud, spilling hot cum into the condom. You felt him twitch inside you as a gradual warmth filled your insides. 

Fuck, that did it for you. You came right behind him, wrapping your legs around him tight like a vice, white-hot pleasure consuming every vein in your body. In that moment, you kissed him and clamped your eyes shut, focusing hard, your cunt squeezing down on him to wring out the last of his orgasm, fluttering and pulsing so uncontrollably hard. It was like your pussy never wanted to let him go, wanted to relish the last of that feeling of home when his cock rooted deep into your pussy. 

All the while, he spewed praises at you, some dirty, some sweet.

You couldn’t tell how long the two of you took to come down, to stop kissing, for your cunt to stop gushing, and for him to pull out—because it seemed like that moment lasted forever. Your cum coated your pelvis, his pelvis, your thighs, his thighs, and the already-soaked bedsheets.

With bated breaths and shaky hands, he pulled off the condom, tied the latex up, wrapped it in a tissue from your bedside, and threw it onto the floor where it landed among your sparsely scattered clothes. 

Armin slumped down on you, wrapping strong arms around your waist in a suffocating, hot embrace. You gladly welcomed his weight. 

It smelled of sex, sweat, and the dwindling remnants of his cologne.

You laid there, catching your breath. 

You did it. He did it. You finished taking his virginity, and he successfully made you cum during the process. 

And everything left you wondering…

Why was that…good? Sex with a virgin. Sex with your best friend. Did you even teach him enough? Because that was definitely a learning experience for you. The post-orgasm clarity hit you now like a slipper to the face, and you couldn’t wrap your head around what just happened. 

Sleepily, you broke the silence, “Good job, Armin. You did amazing. You’re attentive, a fast learner, and just already so good to me. You made me cum twice. For a virgin.” A hearty laugh parted from your throat as you strung your fingers through his mussed hair. “I guess you aren’t one anymore.”

Armin remained silent. Was he already asleep?

In the quiet darkness, your heart started beating fast, even after the sex. Laying here felt domestic, like somebody made this bed for the two of you to snuggle in tonight, like a real couple. 

Armin, face wedged between your sheets and your shoulder, hugged you impossibly tighter when he shifted to look at you. 

“Thank you. I love you, Y/N.”

He breathed those three words with so much adoration in his eyes, gazing at you longingly beneath his thick, long lashes. The blue of his eyes shone brightly even in the dim lighting and through the hair obscuring his face. 

“I really do love you,” he continued. “Not because of the sex. But because you’re a good friend. Thank you for letting me be vulnerable.”

Oh my gosh. You really didn’t deserve him. You’d exchanged your fair share of sentimental, platonic “I love you’s” to each other, but this one wrenched your heart like no other. Especially after sex. 

He left you at a loss for words. But sleep tugged at your eyelids and your mind screamed at you to clean up and your post-nut clarity still remained unresolved; you couldn’t think of a reply even if you wanted to. 

Even overwhelmed, your heart called out to him and you mustered up something. 

“I’m grateful to have you as a best friend. I love you,” you gritted out. 

Wrong. So, so wrong. Right now, this conversation was getting too emotional for a strictly physical agreement. But you didn’t lie nevertheless, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise. 

Feeling grimy, you wriggle under his hold. “We should clean up. It’s good for women to pee after sex.”

As the final rip of the bandaid, he pecked you on your jaw. “I can’t.” 

Your face twisted in confusion, still clouded by tiredness and the daze of lingering thoughts. “You can’t?”

“I can’t help it,” he suddenly mumbled. 

“Armin, what are you—”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence when you felt something poking your thigh, stiff and hard. 

Armin groaned deep in his chest, the sound rumbling against the shell of your ear as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. 

The hands that were once wrapped around your body slowly released their hold and grabbed onto your hips, hard and impatient. Armin started rutting into your thighs, dragging you along with him. 

Your heart stuttered for a moment, in disbelief that he could keep going and that you would have to keep going, but your pussy clenched around nothing at the promise of something more.

“Can’t help it. I’m—I’m hard again.” 

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