All Things Armin

How many times have you been in this position? Submissive under Armin Arlert’s malicious smirk and feeling measly under the bouts of laughter and mockery from your insolent classmates who encourage his harsh words?

How many times have you found yourself running to your dorm after class, crying, loathing the fact that you were different, feeling insufficient because you have never been graciously accepted by others, becoming disgusted with yourself as a failure as your insecurities painfully spill past your eyelids.

How many times have you found yourself hopeless? Hopeless because no matter how many times you go to teachers and counselors for help, they dismiss you with a cackle. “Armin Arlert? The student council president? He is such a gentleman - so responsible and well-mannered. He would never do those things.” Hopeless because of course no one would ever believe the girl who is quiet, strange, and unconventionally a freak who wears nothing but black clothes with edgy designs, chains, and tall boots that match the intimidating aura of your black nails and many piercings. Hopeless because even though you hate the humiliation, hate the demeaning of your very existence, hate Armin Arlert, you can’t deny that you have pathetically fallen like a beggar for his degradation.

Too many times have you found yourself crumbling under the merciless grip of Armin, being thrown around like a puppet to appease his twisted fantasies and inflated ego, his handsome face creepily contorting with a grin each time his cruel insults are aimed at your weak self. Though, soon enough, the school year will end as you are pushed into the warmth of summer, and then you will make your escape from his abominable cage - your escape from the monster that hides behind the intelligent man with the expensive blazers and sweater vests, seemingly gentle smile, and clean face - the monster that hides behind the beautiful, horrible student council president, Armin Arlert.

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On the precipice of escape, the last day of classes before your final exams - that were supposed to be easy and meant for reviewing material - became total hell as you were summoned to the student council office for some ‘unprecedented reason’ or at least that’s what your professor told you.

The walk to the office was a petrifying one. Never before have your boots felt heavy and your knees weak with your heart pounding out of your ears, scared that out of the eight people in the student council you would be faced with the one-and-only Armin Arlert and his mischief.

As soon as you entered the office, you were met with the pain of a shockingly cold, hard floor. Your left thumb nail and pinky broken, your black fishnet stockings torn, and your black eyeliner trailing down your face in waves due to the impact. Armin was waiting behind the door and barbarically pushed you onto the floor right as you entered the room. Upon his sinister eyes, you were so pitifully sprawled in front of him in a confused, fearful haze - such a wonderful sight to see your dark makeup smeared, cheeks red, bruises forming on your knees where your fishnets tore, and the chain bracelet you wore on your frail wrist broken and lying on the floor.

Upon your confusion and fright, Armin quickly steps over your feeble figure as a way of keeping you in place, like a predator fatally cornering his prey. He crouches down on top of you, getting close to your face, his minty breath hitting you in warm swells as his clean-scented cologne invades your nose. In the worse possible position, lying so vulnerable under the man who has tormented you at school all year, you hate to admit how irresistible he actually is - his mesmerizing blue eyes pulling you in like the tides, his beautifully groomed hair contrasting with his menacing smile, his muscles tightening up in his dark blue blazer. How disgusted you are with yourself that just for a second you were willing to take all of his degradation if it meant you got to lay your eyes upon his being.

Armin, feasting upon your beautiful figure, was tearing you apart in his mind. Unbeknownst to you, your dark clothes complimented your skin beautifully, the gruesome designs on your shirts appealingly contrasting with the rare sight of your soft, kind smile, and the black makeup you always wore was never with a fault as it was done perfectly, your black nails leaving Armin with vulgar thoughts about how they would look leaving scratch marks on his back as he roughly fucks you into subspace, what your black and blood-red skirts paired with fishnet stockings would look like while he sneakily tears into you in a public place. How his hand would look around your neck in place of your black chokers. All Armin needed was some hot goth bitch who he could selfishly abuse and degrade while looking cute in her chain necklaces and fitted black tops, and all year had he fantasized about this moment - taking in the sight of your pity allowing the stress from council responsibilities - like speeches and useless complaints from students - to simply just disappear.

“Finally have you all to myself, huh?” he groans, hurriedly taking off his blazer, and unbuttoning his dress shirt, disheveling his collar in the process. Looking around at the empty desks and chairs, you noticed that you two were in fact the only ones in the office and that Armin had slyly locked the door after pushing you to the floor. Your head was burning, and your heart suddenly picked up its pace as you saw Armin begin to unbuckle his belt and fiddle with his zipper.

“W-what are you doing?” you worriedly exclaimed as you moved your messy hair out of your face and scrambled to hold down your skirt.

Armin paused, his grin eerily wide and the glint in his eyes made of pure malice. “Something I should have done a long time ago.”

He, on top of your timid body, shoved his girthy cock into your mouth, his red tip teasingly poking at the back of your throat as tears assault your eye makeup and your face reddens with embarrassment. Armin pulls your hair and forces your wet mouth off of his aching cock, admiring the sight of your wide eyes and blotches of black lipstick painting his thick shaft. He rubs your cheek with his thumb. “Such a pretty goth bitch,” he coos, nearly laughing at the fact his weak, long-time victim was finally exposed below him.

You were stunned, completely numb, so shocked because the man who was always so vile to you was losing himself every time your reluctant tongue slipped past his sensitive tip. So shocked that you couldn’t do anything but comply when he told you to take him deeper.

Armin, with such eagerness, forced your sloppy mouth off of him - after gagging you for what seemed like forever - and sat down on the floor, leaning against the locked door, and firmly grabbing your wrist as a beckon to straddle his lap. Sitting upon his muscular thighs, you begin to realize just how ruined you are, wanting with every inch of your heart to run away from the person who has caused you so much distress yet feeling such a heavy desperation in your throbbing cunt as you gaze upon Armin’s gorgeous figure, his collared shirt slightly unbuttoned and wrinkled, warm red blush thrashed upon his face in contrast with cool blue eyes.

In the midst of it all, you can’t recall how quickly he jerked you onto his lap, rudely pulled your panties to the side, and forcefully thrusted his cock into your messy cunt. Though taking you by an uncomfortable surprise, you hate - hate - to admit how good it felt riding the student council president, Armin Arlert’s, cock, hate to admit how the mixture of abusive slander and your bully’s member inside you made your body shiver with euphoria.