Archive of Our Own ^beta

Armin's room echoed with the soft pants and low grunts emitting from his throat as his hand moved with haste.

His laptop was propped open with a candid picture of you displayed on the screen. Your eyes seemed to follow his lewd movements even in your frozen photographic state. 

The blonde stroked himself repeatedly while moaning your name as if it were a vocal stim. Each time increasing in volume, but also in tension. His hips bucked forward slightly, a recognizable indication of how close he was to climax. 

He quickened his pace and let his eyes flutter shut, hand bobbing up and down his shaft swiftly, imagining it was instead your hand pleasing him in this very moment. And this thought pushed him further to the edge.

He knew what was coming next, and he was prepared to take responsibility for cleaning up his mess. 

Within the very next moment, he released, his liquid spewing like a water fountain, not shying from dirtying his desktop, floor, thighs, and hands. He tossed his head back in accomplishment, his chest rising and falling softly from all the activity. As he began to get up from his gaming chair, prepared to start cleaning up, a sudden knock on the door sent Armin jolting upward in complete shock.

“Fuck.” He muttered, eyes darting around at the mess before him.

The knock came again, and in response, he called, “I’m coming!” Which, unbeknownst to the visitor, he quite literally was (get it?). Panic struck through him. In one graceless motion, he snatched a T-shirt from the hamper and swiped at the mess on the counter, then at his own damp hands. He crumpled the shirt, lobbed it back into the heap, and nearly tripped over himself on the way to the door, blurting a breathless, “Sorry!” to whoever was waiting on the other side.

And to his pleasant and simultaneously unpleasant surprise, it was you standing at his doorway, with a tear-ridden face, puffy red eyes, and a quivering lip; evidently distraught, yet still stunning

His first instinct should’ve been to utter a “come in,” or “what’s wrong?” or even a simple “hello,” but all he could do was stare, mouth agape, no sound except a rigid gasp escaping his throat.

So instead, you initiated with a croaky, “I'm sorry to bother you, I know it’s late…I just—we broke up.”

Armin had dreams like this before—or rather, ever since you started dating Jean and Arlert’s chances with you had dropped to next to nothing. Dreams where you’d show up at his door in tears, seeking comfort because that horse-face had cheated on you, insisting that Armin was the only remedy. He’d always woken up boxers soaked and breathless when it was over, but this moment felt no different.

"Come in," he urged, guiding you into his apartment with a gentle hand on your lower back. The door clicked shut behind you, enclosing the two of you within the quiet haven of his space. 

The air between the two of you was thick with tension—heartbreak and woe on one side, shame and lust on the other. The next words that left his mouth were followed by the two of you sitting on the sofa: “What happened, and are you okay?”

Your head turned to meet his, and he couldn’t help but tense up. Your tear-stained face was all the more alluring up close. He watched your movements intently, even the subtle ones, like the way your knuckle brushed swiftly at the corner of your left eye, catching a stray tear before it could slip down your cheek. It all fed into the flame burning inside him whenever he was around you.

“He told me he was—” You paused, knowing that speaking the next words would make it all the more real. So you braced yourself, inhaling jaggedly before exhaling the confession, “in love with Mikasa, and that it wasn’t fair to me. So he couldn’t stay in the relationship a second longer.”

Those sentences became the catalyst for the fresh stream of tears flooding your crimson cheeks, and Armin watched in awe, doing his best to maintain a façade of concern.

He couldn’t help but shift uncomfortably, knowing perfectly well what kind of reaction seeing you like this was stirring in him. As a sort of distraction, albeit a selfish one, he reached over with an affectionate, gentle hand and cupped your face silently, his thumb brushing against your warm skin and catching a tear mid-fall.

“He’s a piece of shit, and you know damn well you deserve better than that,” he suddenly grumbled, catching you off guard. The sharp change in tone surprised you; you’d half expected Armin to simply pull you into a hug and murmur It’ll be okay, but no part of you had been prepared for such a blunt line.

His hand still cupped your face, and in response, you simply stared. The tears stopped forming, as if those few words had been enough to pull you out of your pitiful trance. When Armin noticed your waterworks had concluded, the corners of his lips turned down ever so slightly. Then, as if to preserve the final tear trailing down your cheek, he wiped it away with his thumb.

The droplet lingered on the pad of his finger as he brought it to his lips and licked it, never breaking eye contact, watching you closely, as though trying to gauge your reaction.

Your lips parted in surprise at the evidently seductive action. And although you should have been creeped out or, at the very least, uncomfortable with his movements, you weren't; in fact, you found it fairly attractive.

A grin spread across his coral-pink lips as he dragged his thumb away from his face and down to your thigh. His ocean-blue eyes locked onto yours with purpose, and as if there were nothing else in the world he wanted more, he asked, “Do you think it’d be okay if I tried a different way of comforting you?”

Before you could even speak, your body had already responded, tilting your head in a slow, unconscious nod.

And that sign of consent was all he needed to get started. He felt his hands quiver as a result of several different emotions, nerves, excitement, and above all, lust. He couldn't seem to wrap his head around the fact that minutes ago, he had been jerking off to the same girl he was about to taste in this very moment.

With his quivering hands, he reached for the hem of your sweatpants and began to slowly slide them down your legs. You couldn't help but watch in anticipation. This was the last thing you had expected to be doing on the night of your and Jean's break-up, but needless to say, you were anything but disappointed at this outcome.

You threw your legs onto the sofa as Armin did the same, but the difference was that he shifted to a kneeling position while you were in a standard sitting one with your bare legs before him. His eyes fell on the laced underwear blocking his view, the view of his late-night meal.

He didn't want to waste another second; the blonde in one swift motion spread your legs before shoving your panties to the side. Never had he ever seen such a beautiful sight. Your sopping wet pussy presented itself before him, oblivious to the fact that he was nothing but starved, and it was the only thing that could cure his hunger.

The suspense got the better of him as he dove in, tongue falling out like a dog, the first few licks were sloppy but fervent. You felt your walls tighten, and the urge to instinctively squeeze your thighs together was difficult to resist, but Arlert wouldn't have it; instead, he held a hand firmly at either side of your inner thighs to make way for his head, practically, buried inside you.

His eyes lit up at the sound of your desperate moans, encouraging him to lick faster. But his were louder, the taste and feel of you was almost too much for him to bear, every lick was accompanied by a pleasurable groan from Armin as if this was the first time he had eaten in weeks.

His pupils were dilated to the largest point one’s pupil could be in a sober state, and he couldn't help but admire how stunning you looked in this very moment. Squirming under his touch, sweat forming at your temples, cheeks flushed, and eyes still red from earlier tears, how badly he wished he could take a picture to jerk off to again later.

He began leaving messy kisses along your clit with the occasional suck. In response, you continued groaning his name, and he did the same with yours. You gripped his blonde locks to ground yourself. The sensation was becoming overwhelming. You could feel yourself tipping over the edge any moment.

“Am I doing good? Am I making you happy?” Armin gasped breathlessly in bewtween elongated licks.

You looked down at him as your head was previously thrown back. His eyes begged for validation, as if you hadn't just been repeatedly calling his name with urgency and pleasure for the past few minutes. “Really fucking happy.” You laugh out loud through pants, your chest rising and falling rapidly.

With your encouraging words, he digs his lips further into your pussy. You could feel the vibration that his satisfied hum sent through your body when he had found your G-spot. He took a mental note and then let his tongue swipe along it repeatedly, feeling accomplished at his ability to make you feel so good. 

So caught up in his goal of catering to you, he disregarded the growing bulge in his pants and the urge for friction because this was for you and for you only. “You're gorgeous when you cry, I hope that's not weird to say.” He muttered into your soaking folds, his words muffled but still coherent.

Completely lost in the pure ecstasy coursing through you, you couldn’t register his earlier words, gripping his hair more intensely instead. “Armin, I’m going to–”

He interrupted, his words dripping with desperation, and his tone nothing short of a demand. “Do it, please, please, oh god, all over me, please.” 

His commitment surprised you, but didn't disappoint. You complied, and as Armin delivered the last few powerful blows with his tongue, you felt yourself reach climax with a sharp groan and arch of your back. And if his eyes weren't wide before, they were now, as he savored every ounce of juice that had spewed out of you. 

He could feel himself soaking through his boxers, knowing very well he had also just busted. But he redirected his focus back to licking up all your cum, being sure not to waste a drop. After all, he didn't know if he'd ever have to opportunity to taste it again.

“Whoa,” you breathlessly muttered, chest heaving, cheeks flushed, and eyes half open.

“Do you feel better now?” He asked innocently, as if he hadn't just been devouring you like a starved animal moments ago. He rose from his previous position between your legs to an upright one, while wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“Yeah, I do.” You said simply, admiring the newfound glow that emitted from him that you had never noticed before. “Maybe,” you continued,  “I shouldn't be so hung up over Jean.”

The words were practically a present to his ears and caused an ear-to-ear grin to be plastered on his flushed face. “Glad I could help.”