Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
SYPNOSIS .ᐟ choso kamo—emo outcast, drummer, all smudged eyeliner and messy black hair—somehow ends up where no one else has ever managed to be: inside the queen bee’s bedroom, the domain of the campus’ own brand of pretty, perfect evil, under the girl who's made grown men cry at 9am with nothing but lipgloss, a smile and a venti whipped frappe in hand
INCLUDES જ⁀➴ 18+ NSFW, handjobs, regina george! reader, emo loser! choso, friends (?) with benefits, inspired by regina x rodrick, college au, legally blonde meets diary of a wimpy kid, messy, touch starved! choso, praise kink, ur so mean in this n he's whipped, cum tasting, mean popular girl x emo loner, mild puppy play
A NOTE FROM IVY ｡˚☆ haven’t watched diary of a wimpy kid or mean girls since i was a kid so forgive me if some things are little inaccurate dynamic wise!!!
જ⁀➴ PINK POISON MASTERPOST
You ruled college, there was no two ways about it—glossy lips, Prada bag, iced skinny hazelnut macchiato, sugar-free syrup, double shot of espresso, light ice—not no ice—no whip, always in hand. Most men thought war was hard—they probably hadn’t tried surviving college. Your weapon of choice? A perfect classic French tip manicure and Dior lip gloss. Your grades are stellar, all A’s, your friendship group carefully curated and vetted, making sure you had the perfect balance of fashionable girls and guys who knew how to party but weren’t entirely airheads who would bring down your GPA. You needed to at least be able use them. No dead weight. No liabilities. Every person in your orbit was a reflection of your shine and shimmer.
And then there was Choso Kamo.
Choso Kamo who's all lean long limbs, smudged eyeliner, tired eyes and ratty hoodies. He’s under you now, dressed in black even though that’s so last winter—not a smidge of designer on him, just baggy distressed dark jeans and a matching ratty hoodie, silver chain around his neck and rings glinting on his fingers as he holds your hips. He’s a drummer in some underground band nobody’s ever heard of, the kind of guy who smells like cigarettes and late nights.
He’s nothing like you. Doesn’t belong in your perfect, polished, pink world.
And yet, he’s under you now.
Skin smudged with lipstick stains the same shade you swipe on every morning before class, the most amount of designer that’s ever touched his skin probably. Your phone is pressed to your ear as you lounge on top of Choso. His space buns are undone, black strands messy over his forehead as he looks up at you with those deep, hooded eyes and you’re halfway through gossiping with one of your girlfriends.
“Yeah, no—” you say, voice light, lazy, rolling your gum between your teeth like you're not sat on the campus degenerate. “I told her the dress was cute but like, definitely giving freshman. She didn’t listen, and now everyone’s talking about it. Not my fault.”
Choso exhales a rough sound beneath you, his hands gripping your hips through your miniskirt. You ignore him, twirling a strand of hair around your finger while your friend giggles through the phone. The light from your led lignts paint him in soft pink, your lipstick still visible where your mouth pressed against his throat not even two minutes ago, before you got a call and decide to pick up mid fucking hookup. And now he has to lay here, dizzy from your kisses, practically your chair, as you gossip.
“Yeah, totally. I mean—she’s sweet, but, like…” you drawl, letting the sentence trail off while your other hand slides down, fingers brushing his jaw. Choso’s lips part, his breath coming out uneven, and you smile to yourself.
Your room smells like sugar and vanilla, your perfume thick in the air, the kind he would hate if it wasn’t yours—it makes him feel dizzy, clouding his senses every time you get close, brushing up again him, looking up at him with sharp, bright eyes and a sharper smile. You were made to cut—you weren’t born a person, or maybe you were and just sharpened yourself into a weapon as some god awful coping mechanism. He would probably do the same if he grew up with a narcissistic mom and a dad whose credit card you saw more often than him.
Now you’re all sharp eyes, sharp nails, sharp smiles, sharp words—but when he’s under you, you're a little more soft. Or maybe he's just deluding himself into thinking you might have a soft spot for him.
"Where am I? Oh, just at my dorm. Busy? No, not really," you drawl as your nails drag slow over the cut of Choso's abs, making his teeth sink into his bottom lip to stifle a moan, cock twitching in his dark, distressed jeans. You grin wider, meaner, humming into the phone. "No, nothing important," you murmur into the phone, eyes on Choso, his breathing laboured, his cheeks pinks, eyeliner smudged, inky black hair splayed over your pink silky pillows as he glares up at you. “Anyway, we’ll pregame at mine. I’ll text you the outfit inspo later. Kisses.”
You hang up the call with a flick of your thumb, dropping the phone onto the nightstand. The faint click of the end-call tone fades into silence—except for Choso’s breathing, low and unsteady, and the faint pop of your gum as you blow another bubble.
“Y’know,” Choso mutters, his voice a rough scrape, “you talk a lot when you’re sitting on top of me.”
You tilt your head, chewing slowly as you look down at him. His hoodie is pushed up around his ribs, exposing pale skin and the line of muscle that disappears into his dark jeans. The silver chain around his neck glints faintly in the pink light.
“You like it,” you say simply, tone amused. You lean forward a little, letting your lip gloss catch the light as you smile. “Besides, it’s cute when you get all quiet, like a pet waiting for it's owner.”
Choso’s fingers flex on your hips, the silver rings biting faintly into your skin. “Pet?” he echoes, half a scoff. He doesn’t even know what he’s doing here—under you, letting you play with him like he's some shiny new toy for the week. It doesn’t make sense. He isn’t your type, doesn’t belong in your glossy, curated world, and yet here he is, tangled up in your pink sheets, eyeliner smudged, pulse stuttering under your touch.
He doesn’t even remember how it started. A party, maybe—a shared class, a passing look. You’d looked at him like he was some pawn in a game he hadn’t realised he was playing, and by the time he did, you were already winning. His bandmates would never let him live it down if they knew. You—the girl everyone talks about, the one who rules campus without lifting a finger—hooking up with him, the drummer from an underground band who can barely afford rent. You needed to keep it quiet because he’s bad for your image and Choso didn't need the crucifixtion either. The mockery, the jealous questions, the quiet envy that would follow when they found out you’d picked him.
Because no matter how pretentious, how self-styled as too-cool-for-it-all his bandmates are, every single one of them would want to know what it’s like to be fucked by you—what it’s like to be wanted by the girl who’s untouchable. And that’s why he stays silent. Why he lets you use him, touch him, ruin him in secret. Why nobody knows that between his band practices and your pep rallies, you text him to come over and he follows like his leash is being pulled, ending up in your thousand dollar bed with your thousand dollar lipgloss smudged over his mouth.
“Mm-hm.” You pop your gum again, reach down, and brush your thumb over the lipstick smear on his jaw. “Pet. Like seeing a stray on the street. It's cute in that pathetic, ratty sorta way.”
He shoots you a look, eyes dark and brows creased, lips turned down in a frown. “You’re so….” he mutters, brows furrowed and pinched but his hands stay on your thighs.
It only makes you smile wider, gum popping. “So?”
His answer comes in the form of a hand sliding higher up your thigh, fingers brushing the edge of lace beneath your skirt. “So sharp. And pretty. And—“
You catch his wrist lightly, nails grazing his skin, the smallest warning in your voice as you say, “Don’t wrinkle my skirt.”
He scoffs—quiet, disbelieving—but obeys. That’s the thing about Choso; he always obeys when it comes to you.
“And mean,” he mutters as he looks up at your from under dark lashes, heavy eyes from constant insomnia you only know he suffers from because he likes to text at god-awful hours at the night. “So, so mean,” he murmurs as he looks up at you.
You smile, wide and cutting and cruel in all the ways that feel best when he's not lying to himself, leaning further down, one perfectly manicured hand perched on his chest where his heart beats hard.
“And yet you’re still under me,” you murmur, voice saccharine sweet, words mean, as your hand drags down, lower, lower, lower, making his breath catch in his throat. You notice, looking up at him from under your lashes, perfectly coy, a wolf in sheep’s clothing, pure evil dressed in Chanel and Prada. He hates that it makes his heart jolt into his throat, makes his stomach tighten, makes him want to take your hand and shove it between his thighs. “So what does that say about you, hm?”
Choso swallows, chest rising and falling. Your fingers graze over the waistband of his boxers that peak through, and his cock jerks in his jeans, already leaking, already desperate. You can tell, you always can—thrive off of it, probably. Reducing the stoic, emo loner to a flushed mess beneath you, the way his quiet, intense mask cracks the second you get your hand around his cock.
He was a virgin before you—hadn’t ever touched or fucked, never even wanted to. You changed that. Of course you did—you took a loner like Choso who belongs in grimy clubs and shitty bathroom lighting with cracked mirrors, and unraveled him like he was a ball of yarn. Made him realise he was starved for it—for sex, for touch, for your hand on his bicep, for the attention, for the way you look at him from under your lashes even with a mean smile and telling him his clothes are relics of 2014 that should be burnt in a funeral pyre.
Because every mean comment tastes like sugar when you’re whispering it into his mouth, his head dizzy as you take him apart, piece by piece, under soft pink fairy lights and to the sound of Sabrina Carpenter.
Your nails drag down his skin but they don’t hurt, the fire it leaves behind makes him feel molten, feel a tangle in his gut only you can unknot with your perfectly manicured nails, prying him apart until he’s a gasping, moaning wreck. You chew your gum, glossy lips parting as you lean down just enough to kiss him again—soft and sweet, leaving another faint smear of pink across his mouth.
“Open,” you murmur and Choso does, lips parting like always, drinking your poison like it’s ambrosia, and you pass the gum into his mouth. It rolls over his tongue and you pull back, and his teeth clamp on it, bubblegum sweet on his tongue.
“Good boy,” you coo and his cock gives a pathetic twitch at the praise even as he glowers up at you, eyes smudged with eyeliner and late nights.
“What?” you laugh, sharp, mean, beautiful. “Is puppy upset I had to take a call?” you croon at him and he feels his cheeks go pink, chewing down harder on the gum.
“No,” he mutters even as his fingers curl tighter on your hips. “Just think it’s shitty of you to talk to someone like you’re not…”
“Not what, Choso?” you ask, lazy and mean all at once, smile curling at your lips.
“Not—“ he swallows, jaw working, eyes flicking down your body, snagging of the way your knees bracket his hips, his bulge pressed up against you so you can feel even twitch, every throb it gives.
“Not sitting on your cock?” you ask, batting your lashes and he flushes deeper.
“Why are you always so fucking—“ Choso hisses and you laugh—mean, sweet, he doesn’t know anymore—leaning down, hand sliding down between his thighs finally, palm closing over his bulge making his fingers curl tighter, silver rings digging into your soft smooth thighs.
“It’s alright,” you grin, and his breath hitches when your hand presses down on his bulge. “Good pets get treats,” you murmur and he’s going to bite something back but then your lips are on his and his head goes blank. Every Metallica lyric he’s memorised, his phone number, the Capital of France? Gone. All that he knows is the press of your mouth against his, slow, wicked, filthy.
He groans into your mouth and you hum back, tongue licking into his mouth, hand squeezing his bulge and tearing a choked whine from him, hands sliding down to squeeze your thighs, dragging you tighter on him, hips rolling up needily, instinctively.
“Have you been a good boy?” you breathe into his mouth, thick like molasses. “Think you deserve a treat?”
Choso tries his hardest not to whimper. He doesn’t think he’s all that successful, head pressing back into your pillows as your mouth drags hot over his jaw, hand palming his bulge, palm grinding down, making strangled whimpers pull from his throat.
“Yes—Yes—I—Fuck—“ he chokes out, eyes squeezing shut as you squeeze his heavy cock and it throbs in response, thick and heavy and trapped under dark washed denim. “Yes— Want a treat—“ It's humiliating—the words, the way you make him fold for you like a house of cards with such little effort. A kiss and a hand on his cock and he's gone, pathetically gone for you.
“Yeah?” He can practically feel your grin against his jaw, your mouth by his ear as you squeeze his clothed cock harder until his eyes are rolling back. You tilt your head, eyes glittering, and grin. “Then say thank you, baby.”
“Thank—Thank you—“ Choso’s voice cracks, his hips jerking up into your touch as he tries desperately not to cum in his pants. He’d done it the first time you guys had hooked up—the first and last because he couldn’t let you know just how much power you really had over him. How pathetically responsive he is to your touch—but he thinks you know anyways, judging by how you’re letting him hump into your hand, panting and flushed already.
“Pretty, pretty boy, aren’t you?” you coo softly into his ear, and he shivers, honest to god shivers, feeling your fingers slip under his jeans, wrapping around his cock, flushed hot length leaking at the first touch of your fingers on him.
“Y-Y/n—“ he stutters out your name, head pressing back into the pillows, back arching, fingers squeezing your thighs and you hum, dragging your fist up.
“Don't worry,” you coo, one manicured nail brushing the hair from his face, exposing him to you. "I'll take care of it."
You drink in the way he’s panting, flushed cheeks and gasping as you work his cock slowly. Somewhere between your Dior lipgloss and his calloused hands from drumming too often clutching your thighs, between your curated perfection and his chaos, something blurs. Your fingers wrap around his cock, dragging your fist up and down and Choso whines, breathing laboured, precum dribbling from his tip, spilling down, coating his cock as a wet squelch fills the room with every pass of your fist.
"Look at you," you murmur, thumb dragging over his slit, making him feel like electricity is sparking down his spine, his back arching, mouth falling open on a gasp and you grin wider. "All from a little handjob." You squeeze your fist tighter around his cock, feeling the heavy weight throb, practically drooling precum as lewd slick sounds fill the room.
"Stop doin' that—" he chokes out as you stroke him, fingers tightening around his cock.
"What?" you ask innocently, batting your lashes, dragging your fist down his cock, precum dribbling out in response. "You want me to stop now?" One manicured nail drags over his jaw, tipping his face up at the chin, digging into the pale skin. "Gonna cum all over yourself, Choso?" you murmur and his stomach tightens, blunt nails digging into your thighs as you pump his cock. "Hm? Wouldn't be the first time."
He wants to talk back, but he can't because your hand is still wrapped around him, dragging up and down, and his hips can't help themsleves, twitching up into your touch, a strangled, low moan dragging from his lips.
"Lemme see it," you croon softly, working him faster, slick sounds filling your pretty little dorm until he's gasping and choking on whines, head pressing back into your pillows.
"Wait—Wait m'gonna—" Choso tries to choke out, and then your fingers tighten and squeeze. His cock jerks hard and he moans, high and loud, as he cums in thick white stripes all over his stomach. You hum, low and pleased and his eyes roll back as you drag your fist up, dragging every spurt from him, milking his cock until he's made a mess, cum streaked messy over his clenching abs.
"Holy fuck—" he pants, head lolling back aganinst the pillows, as you drag one manicured finger over his stomach, and he watches through half lidded eyes, chest heaving as you lick the cum clean, a slow, clean, torturous suck that makes his cock twitch weakly where it's soft against his stomach, and he swallows thickly.
"Bitter," you comment, and he almost scoffs but you lean down, brushing the hair from his flushed face, and press a finger to his lips, until he's forced to suck it, tasting himself. "Just like you, huh?" you murmur with a wicked smile that tells him you're nowhere near done with him.
Summary: Armin wasn't your usual type, but he was too cute to pass up. ۶ৎ Armin x black fem reader ۶ৎ
Context: Kind of talk him through it, tongue piercing, unprotected sex, semi-public, oral (Male receiving), missionary, slight choking, soft boy Armin
Word count — 6.3k (I just get carried away)
You giggled at whatever shit Connie was spewing—boy could talk for days, but he always had you weak with laughter. You hummed, soft and lazy, as Mikasa’s nails dragged gently against your scalp, fingers slipping between your braids while your head rested comfortably in her lap.
“Connie, you need to lay off the weed, man. What is Eren feeding you?”
“Oh, piss off with that shit. My weed is way better than that dickhead’s,” he shot back.
Eren smacked the back of his buzzed head just as he passed you his blunt, the two of them bickering like always. You giggled again, more out of habit than anything, and sat up with a stretch, tugging at your little mini skirt that refused to stay put.
Mikasa had just turned 18 yesterday, and true to her chill ass nature, she kept her party small—just her closest circle. Backyard lights strung up like a soft halo above everyone, music low, vibe mellow.
The beat changed to something slower, R&B humming through the speakers, and you grabbed a paper plate off the patio table, fixing yourself some chips and dip before flopping down into a lawn chair.
You squinted your eyes as you caught a glimpse of him. Standing by the sliding glass door, half in the shadows, blonde, baby-faced, too pretty for his own good. He looked fresh-pressed in a soft blue hoodie and jeans, sipping a Sprite like he was scared the can would explode.
Armin. Eren’s little genius friend.
You knew of him, of course. You’d seen him in the halls, always head down in a book or trailing behind Eren. Heard he was crazy smart, polite as hell. Not your usual type—not loud, not bold, not a clown like Connie—but something about that shy, always-looking-but-never-speaking energy had your curiosity piqued.
You popped a chip into your mouth, chewing slow, eyes still locked on him. He looked your way and immediately looked away, ears turning hella red. That made you grin.
You pulled at the short-haired brunette as she walked by you, "Hey Mika. That's you and Eren's friend, right? Armin?"
She hummed as she waved at him, the blonde sent a small wave back at the birthday girl before he accepted another drink from Eren.
"Yeah, we grew up together, but he was always closer to Eren."
You continued to watch the blonde, the way he conversed with the taller brunette. He looked almost calm, conveying what he was like at school.
"He cute."
Mikasa blinked at you, confused for a second like she didn’t register what you said. But then her mouth curled into a knowing little chuckle.
“You serious?”
You shrugged, pretending it was nothing. “He got that awkward pretty boy thing goin’ for him. Look like he smell good.”
“He does, actually,” Mikasa said through a laugh. “Real clean. I think he uses lavender lotion.”
“Mmm,” you hummed, biting another chip. “I like that.”
You could feel Mikasa’s stare, but you didn’t bother to look. You already knew she was smirking.
“Don’t mess with him too hard,” she warned playfully. “He’s soft.”
“I’ll be gentle,” you teased.
Some time had passed since you noticed the blonde; he was still entertaining Eren —well, trying to entertain Eren as he nursed whatever was in that cup.
You got tired of waiting, you didn’t overthink it. Just stood up, let your skirt ride as it pleased, and strolled across the yard until you stood before him.
"Eren, you gonna introduce me to your friend?"
Eren blinked, mid-sip, before a grin stretched across his face.
“Oh shit. That’s right. Armin, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Armin. Be nice.”
You cocked a brow. “I’m always nice.”
Armin chuckled under his breath, then immediately looked like he regretted it. He cleared his throat, standing a little straighter.
“Hey,” he said softly. “Nice to meet you… properly.”
You tilted your head. “Yeah. I’ve seen you around.”
“I—I know. You’re usually with Sasha and Mikasa.”
“Mmhmm. And you’re usually hiding behind Eren’s loud ass.”
He smiled, embarrassed but not offended. “Guilty.”
You reached over, plucked his cup right from his hand, and took a slow sip—eyes locked on his the whole time. “This just juice?”
He nodded, clearly flustered. “Y-Yeah. I don’t drink much.”
You stepped just a little closer, your fingers lightly brushing his as you gave back the cup. “You know,” you murmured, voice low, “you don’t gotta stand over here all night.”
Armin glanced toward Eren like he was looking for backup. Eren just smirked into his drink and raised his brows.
You tilted your head, eyes soft but playful. “Come sit with me.”
Armin swallowed. “O-Okay.”
You led the way back to your seat, feeling his steps behind you, hearing the quiet thud of his shoes on the grass. You flopped back into the lawn chair, patting the empty one next to you.
“So, Armin,” you drawled, propping your elbow on the armrest, “what’s a sweet boy like you doing hangin’ with Eren’s crazy ass?”
The blonde chuckled as he looked over at his friends, "We've known each other since we were kids."
You hummed as you poped another chip in your mouth. Your eyes focused back on him but you noticed that his eyes lingered on your lips as you continued to snack on your chips.
"You want one?"
Armin blinked, slightly taken back by your question, he was slighty startled, like you'd caught him red-handed staring. “O-Oh! Uh—sure.”
His fingers brushed yours as he reached into the bag, carefully taking just one chip like you’d handed him something precious. He popped it into his mouth and chewed shyly, eyes flicking away like he didn’t know where to look.
"You don't have to be shy around me, I don't bite."
His cheeks flushed pink as he rubbed the back of his neck, laughing softly. “Sorry.”
“Mm-mm,” you hummed, shaking your head. “Don’t apologise.”
The blonde smiled soflty at you, he couldn't lie. You were the prettiest girl in school and he had seen you around more times than he can count.
You weren't head cheerleader or president but you had your own aura that made you popular. Even before you started hanging out with Mikasa and the others.
Armin couldn't help but look over your choice of clothing for the night. He belived girls called those skirts tutu skirts. It looked really good on you, the white looked angelic across your rich brown skin and if he remembered correctly underneath the hoodie you stole from Connie you were wearing a black off the shoulder top.
You were a vision, and you were talking to him. Why? He didn't understand, but he didn't care.
“So…” you leaned in slightly, resting your chin on your hand, “Are you always this quiet, or is it just ‘cause you’re sitting next to me?”
Armin let out a shaky little laugh, scratching at the back of his neck. “I, um… I guess I’m just not great at talking to… people like you.”
You raised a brow, smirking. “People like me?”
His eyes widened slightly, and you could see the internal alarm bells going off. “N-No! Not like—that sounded bad, I didn’t mean it like—”
You reached out and gave his knee a light tap, laughing softly. “Relax, Minnie. I’m messin’ with you.”
Minnie? Huh.
The blonde exhaled, slouching just a little as he ran a hand through his soft blonde hair. “Right… yeah. Okay.”
The music kept playing in the background, mellow beats and soft vocals wrapping around the backyard like a blanket. You both sat in a little bubble of calm, Eren and Connie’s voices still arguing off near the grill, Mikasa swaying slightly to the music by the table.
You leaned back in your chair, gazing at Armin out the corner of your eye. “So, tell me, genius boy,” you teased lightly, “what do you even do for fun when you’re not glued to a book or Eren’s hip?”
Armin gave a small, shy smile. “I like reading… learning new things, I guess. I help out at the library sometimes.”
You smiled, loving the way the blush on his cheeks grew. Tilting your head, you watched as he began to fiddle with the string on his hoodie, a sign that he was becoming more nervous by the second.
You leaned in just a little closer, voice dropping lower. “Y’know… you’re kinda cute when you get all flustered like that.”
Armin nearly choked on his drink, coughing softly as his eyes shot wide. “O-Oh—thank you! I mean—you too! Your really pretty."
"You think I'm pretty?"
His eyes widened as he continued to stutter, you decided to lay off the blonde for now.
"Okay, Minnie, I'll lay off." You giggled as you sat in the glow of the string lights, watching him as he slowly gathered the nerve to meet your gaze again. His eyes were warm, a little nervous, but definitely intrigued.
“Hey, Armin,” you murmured, leaning forward just enough to brush your knee against his. “We should hang out sometime. Just us.”
His jaw practically dropped. “R-Really?”
You gave him a wink. “Really.”
Armin’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times before he finally managed, “Y-Yeah. Yeah! I’d… I’d like that.”
You smiled, standing slowly and smoothing down your skirt, feeling his eyes follow your every move. “Good. You’ve got my number, right?”
He nodded, maybe a little too eagerly. “I—I can get it from Eren.”
“Perfect.” You flashed him one last grin before turning, your hips swaying as you walked away.
Armin stayed frozen in his chair, cheeks flushed, heart racing, Sprite can trembling slightly in his hand.
The days at school were different for the blonde. You had become what seemed to be a permenant fixture in his life since the party two weeks ago. Where he was there you were.
In the cafeteria, you sat across from him, popping fries in your mouth and giggling at whatever dumbass joke Connie cracked. In class, you’d swing by his desk to tap his shoulder, flashing him that signature grin before sauntering off like you hadn’t just sent his heartbeat into overdrive. Between periods, you were posted up at his locker, leaning back with that casual confidence, waiting on him like it was the most natural thing in the world.
People had started noticing to, the whispers in the halls between classes were loud, people wondering when and how someone like Armin ever became on your radar.
But he was used to it, he's been Eren's best friend since before they could walk and people always wondered how they were still close.
Armin had been sitting in the library trying to finish off an essay he wanted to hand in early but he kept getting bombarded by texts.
Minnie?
Where are you?
Sorry, I'm just finishing off an essay.
This was also a new thing, you’d constantly message or call him, he wasn’t complaining. Not at all, Armin loved the fact that you always messaged him first, loved how you’d always ask him what he was up to when you weren’t with him.
Armin watched as the bubbles popped up on the screen but then left. His brows furrowed not understanding the knot that quickly formed in his stomach as your text didn't come right away.
He tried to concentrate, put his focus back on his essay, but it all but failed. He knawed at his lip, foot tapping out of anxiety as his eyes continuously darted towards his phone waiting for a text.
“Minnie.”
His head snapped up.
There you were, leaning over his table, eyes sparkling beneath the library’s dull lights. You set your hands on the back of the chair across from him, tilting your head.
“We just got that essay today,” you said, lips curling into a half-smile. “Why’re you stressing?”
“I… I just wanted to get ahead,” he mumbled, already feeling heat creep up his neck. “I didn’t wanna fall behind.”
You pulled the chair out and dropped into it with a dramatic sigh, kicking your feet up on the side of his chair. “Minnie, baby… you’ve been ahead since the second day of school. You’re allowed to chill sometimes, y’know.”
He bit the inside of his cheek, gaze dropping back to his paper. “I just don’t wanna disappoint anyone.”
That made you pause.
“Disappoint who, exactly?” you asked, voice soft but a little sharp.
“…myself, I guess.”
You rolled your eyes but didn’t push. Instead, you leaned forward, chin resting on your folded arms, watching him with that playful glint.
"Come on, I'm hungry, and then you're taking me home."
Armin blinked. “W-Wait, what?”
You sat up, already pulling your phone out and standing like the conversation was done. “You heard me. I’m not walking in this heat.
He fumbled to close his laptop and shove it into his bag, his heart hammering. “You didn’t even ask—”
“You would’ve said yes anyway,” you cut in with a grin, already walking backward toward the door. “Besides, you owe me for showing up to find you buried in that essay like a grandpa.”
“I—that’s not—” he started, but the way you raised an eyebrow had him shutting right up and trailing after you like a puppy.
The hallway was quiet as you stepped out of the library. You fell into stride beside him, close enough that your arm brushed his every couple steps.
"Oh, hush, you know I'm just messin'" the blonde bit his lip softly, the air between you two was quiet but not awkward as you walked out to his car.
You raised your brows softly as he opened the passenger door for you.
He’d barely made it to the driver’s side when two familiar shapes came into view.
“Yo, we looked for you in the library but—” Connie grinned as he spotted you in the passenger seat, eyes gleaming. “Damn, Min. Got plans, huh?”
You waved from inside the car, all teeth. Connie elbowed Eren who didn’t even try to hide his smug look.
“Didn’t mean to cockblock, bro,” Eren teased.
Armin’s face flushed. “It’s not even—”
“Go home, Eren,” you interrupted, waving again, voice sweet but dismissive. “We’ll see you Monday.”
The guys exchanged a laugh and dapped Armin up before disappearing back down the lot. He sighed, sliding into the driver’s seat as you giggled next to him.
You fiddled with his music, gasping softly when one of your songs came on as you sang to it softly. Armin couldn't help but glance at you as he continued to drive.
"Minnie?"
His eyes snapped forward. “Y–Yeah?”
“What are you doing tomorrow?”
He blinked. “Um… I was gonna study.”
You shook your head immediately. “Nope. Come over. I’m having a cookout and I want you to come.”
Armin glanced at you again, startled. “You want me to come?”
You gave him a look. “Of course. You don’t want to?”
“No—no! I do! I mean… yeah. I’ll come.”
“Good,” you said, settling back into your seat, pleased. “Don’t let me down, Minnie.”
He grinned to himself, hands tight on the wheel as he fought the smile tugging at his lips.
You didn’t say anything else for the rest of the ride, just let the music play and your fingers tap against your thigh in time with the beat.
Armin didn't get why this was happening to him but he sure as hell weren't gonna question it. He''d choose you over studying any time.
Armin had fixed his shirt a dozen times, ran his fingers through his hair so much-- he knew that shit was messy now.
But his nerves were eating at him; he had been parked outside your house for a couple minutes now. There was no way he was turning around, he was finally going to see you in your element, hang out just you two (well if you count your family.)
Armin could already hear the music from outside the house, the screams of children and what seemed like the shouts from adults.
It was fine, he could do this.
He didn't know if he should knock or send you a text, the music was so loud he doubt you'd hear either but that didn't matter because the door had flew open.
"I was starting to think you got lost." You grinned as the sun beat down on you, your skin glowing under the light, his eyes trailed down to the blue cami top you were wearing. He swallowed the lump in his throat as his eyes lingered for a while on your cleavage before they trailed down to the shorts that hugged your hips.
"Well, you gonna come in or what?"
"Huh-- yeah sorry." Armin walked up the rest of your driveway before meeting you at the door with a plate of brownies in his hand, his mum insited that he shouldn't show up empty handed and he knew better than to bring her potato salad.
"I-I brought you something." He blurted, holding the plate up like a peace offering. You blinked at you looked at the plate in his hands, wasn't he cute?
"Come, let me introducuce you."
The house was loud, full of noise, music was pumping through the speakers, people were singing, shouting. Kids ran past, the smell of cookng wafted his nose as you conitnued to pull him through the house.
He could feel the stares of some of your relatives, he tried to ignore them as he kept up with your pace until you stopped in front of some older women.
"Hey ma, aunties, this is my friend Armin."
Your mother raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Friend?” she echoed.
Your aunt with the butterfly locs looked him up and down, then smiled. “Well, ain’t he just precious.”
He held the brownie plate out like a sacrificial lamb.
Your mom took it, giving him a soft nod. “Thank you, baby. You hungry?”
“Y-Yeah, I mean—I could eat.”
“Good,” she said with finality, turning back toward the kitchen. “Go fix him a plate, girl. Don’t be rude.”
You rolled your eyes with a grin, grabbing Armin’s wrist. “Come on, Minnie.”
He offered one last bashful, “It’s nice meeting you all,” before you dragged him away.
You dragged him back outside, where the grill smoked in the far corner of the yard. Folding chairs were spread everywhere, music louder now. Your uncle was working the grill with a big-ass fan propped next to him and a beer in hand, muttering to himself. A card game was going strong under a pop-up tent, your cousin talking shit as he slammed down a winning hand.
Armin had never been in an environment like this, but it didn’t feel bad. It felt warm. Loud and overwhelming, but warm.
And you—you were glowing in it.
Every time you threw your head back laughing, every side hug, every shout —it made something stir deep in Armin’s chest.
You fixed his plate, teasing him for not knowing what anything was called. “That’s mac and cheese, not just ‘pasta,’ Minnie. Be serious.” You sat close next to him on the porch steps while he ate, sipping on your drink and occasionally stealing a bite from his plate with your fingers.
“So you’re Armin?” a voice said from in front of him.
Armin looked up mid-chew and almost swallowed wrong again. A small crowd had formed—three girls around your age, all staring him down like he was on trial.
“These my cousins,” you said with a lazy wave, smirking. “They know Connie and Eren. ‘Cause they’re weedheads.”
“Oh please,” the tallest one snorted. “You the one always posted up with them damn stoners. What you doing with this weirdo Armin? You don’t got no other girls at school?”
You rolled your eyes and tossed a balled-up napkin at her, hitting her square in the shoulder. She shrieked dramatically, and the others burst into laughter, crowding around the two of you on the steps.
Armin sat quietly, trying not to shrink into himself, but they didn’t seem to mind him too much after the jokes were out. One of your cousins even stole a wing off his plate and winked at him.
You just laughed and shook your head, but Armin caught the way your eyes stayed on him a little longer than necessary.
As the afternoon melted into golden-hour, more drinks passed hands, the speakers switched from oldies to newer R&B, and the yard started thinning out as folks went inside to cool down. You were tipsy now—not sloppy, just loose and a little more touchy.
Your hand found his thigh again. His name rolled off your tongue softer. Sweeter.
“You good, Minnie?” you asked at one point, low, close to his ear. “You’ve been quiet.”
Armin nodded quickly, face red but eyes locked on your lips, "Yeah, I'm good, thanks for inviting me. It means a lot."
You bit your lip softly as you watched him, the small pink hue on his cheeks had gotten darker as his eyes shifted from you to anything else.
The minute the last of your uncles disappeared inside, you stood, brushing imaginary dirt from your thighs and finishing your drink.
“I’m hot,” you said, loud enough for just him to hear. “Come upstairs with me?”
Armin blinked. “Wait, r-right now?”
You turned and shot him a lazy grin, that kind of half-lidded look that made his stomach knot.
“Why not?” you said. “I wanna change. Cool down. You coming or what?”
He scrambled to stand, heart pounding so loud in his chest it practically drowned out the music.
You led him through the house again, your bedroom was at the top of the stairs, third door on the right.
The room was warm and softly scented, with walls covered in photos, Polaroids, and posters. There was lip gloss and hair stuff on your dresser, a half-open closet full of summer fits, a record player in the corner that hadn’t been used in a minute.
Your hands stretched over your head as you pulled the hairband out of your hair, your braids falling down to your mid-back. You stopped in the middle of your room, turning to face the blonde who continued to watch you.
"You gonna come in or what?" Armin stubbled over his own feet as he walked futher into your room, closing the door behind him.
You kicked off your slides and padded over to your dresser, pulling open the top drawer and fishing for something—Armin couldn’t tell what. He tried not to stare at the curve of your ass, the way your shorts rode up, the smooth line of your back.
"So, how'd you find your first black cookout?"
"How'd you know it's my first?" You turned to face him, brows raised a little as you watched the small smile on his lips.
"Boy…"
"Come on, you know i'm joking. Haven't had mac and cheese that good in my life."
You laughed, that warm little chuckle you did when something genuinely amused you. “You talkin’ about my mama’s mac like it ain’t legendary.”
Armin laughed too, a little looser now, and moved toward the bed like he’d finally relaxed into your orbit. He sat down near the edge, careful not to mess up your throw blanket.
“You know,” he said, watching you from the bed, “I was kinda scared coming here. Thought your family was gonna hate me or think I was weird.”
You leaned against the dresser, arms folded under your chest, smirking. "Why cause you white?"
Armin choked on his spit, "Wh-what no!"
You giggled as you stepped over to him, your hands resting on his shoulders as you stood between his legs. "I'm joking, Minnie, my family seem to like you almost as much as I do."
The blonde froze as he looked up at him, his heart beating against the cage in his chest as the words rang through his head.
"Y--you like me?"
Your head tilted slightly as a smile painted your lips. Your body leaned in closer to him, "You don't believe me?"
Armin couldn't say anything else, he could feel your breath on his lips, his hands clucthing the sheets on your bed as your lips caught his.
It wasn't like Armin hadn't kissed a girl before, he had but fuck. Kissing you was different.
As his brain finally caught up to what was happening, he started to kiss you back softly, your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.
Armin's hand moved on his own as his fingers clucthed against your waist. Your tongue slid into his mouth, moaning softly at the warmth of him but the blonde pulled back a little, surprise etched onto his face.
"Wh-what was--"
You giggled as you began to straddle his lap, swiping your tongue over your lips, causing Armin to catch the glimpse of the little silver ball.
"Did I forget to tell you I had a tongue piercing?"
"Uh, yeah, yeah, I think you did." The blonde couldn't help but stare as you stuck your tongue out, giving him a better view.
"It felt a little weird but I guess it's cause I was suprised."
You hummed softly, leaning in as your ran your tongue over the shell of his ear before taking it between your teeth causing the boy to shudder.
"It'll feel good on other places as well."
You didn't give him a chance to respond before your tongue invaded his mouth again. Your tongue slid against his again, and he let out a quiet whimper into your mouth, hands finally landing on your hips as you guided him. Rocked your hips once, slow and deliberate, letting him feel the heat between your thighs.
Your hands were all over him now—his shoulders, his hair, the soft line of his jaw—and Armin was unraveling with every pass of your mouth against his.
“You okay, baby?” you whispered, brushing your nose against his, voice almost teasing.
He nodded, too fast. “Y-Yeah. I just… you’re—fuck.”
You giggled as you kissed down his neck next, taking your time, your tongue flicking out over sensitive skin as your hips rolled again, just a little harder. Armin whimpered, the sound desperate and sweet.
Your hand slid up the front of his shirt, warm palms against his chest, fingertips brushing over skin.
“Can I take this off?” you asked, already tugging at the hem.
He nodded again. “Yeah—please.”
You pulled his shirt over his head, slow and sensual, and leaned in again, kissing his collarbone as your hands slid down his sides.
“You’re so sensitive, Minnie,” you whispered against his skin. “You like when I touch you?”
“Y-Yeah,” he whispered, trembling now under your mouth. “Feels so good.”
You grinned against his skin and kept going, kissing lower, letting your tongue trace little patterns down the middle of his chest. Armin’s hands clutched the edge of the bed like he was hanging on for dear life.
You shuffled completely off the bed, you kneeled between his legs as you started kissing down his stomach, your fingers already slipping under the waistband of his jeans, he let out a broken, breathy moan that made you pause—just to look up at him.
Eyes half-lidded, lips parted, hair messy from your fingers, chest rising and falling fast.
Your fingers curled around the waistband of his jeans, eyes locked on his as you popped the button open.
Armin’s breath hitched.
“You okay?” you asked, voice soft but laced with heat. You were already leaning down, mouth brushing the faint trail of hair leading beneath his boxers.
“Y-Yeah,” he stammered, voice barely a whisper as his head lifted slightly to watch you. “Just… nervous.”
You smiled, pressed a kiss just above his waistband. “Don’t be. Just relax, Minnie. I’ll take care of you.”
He whimpered when you tugged both his jeans and boxers down in one slow, fluid motion, his cock sprang free, flushed pink and already leaking.
You let out a little breath through your nose, pleased. “Damn… you’re bigger than I expected.”
Armin flushed to his ears, eyes wide like he didn’t know what to do with that information.
“You ever had someone do this for you before?” you asked, already stroking him, slow and teasing.
He nodded, cheeks burning. “Once. Kinda… quick though.”
“Mmm.” You leaned in, letting your lips ghost over his tip without touching.
Armin didn't even have a minute before you sucked him in—slow, deliberate, tongue circling the head as you eased him deeper into your mouth inch by inch. Armin’s hips jerked, the softest moan slipping from his lips as his head dropped back against the sheets with a soft thud.
“Fuck—oh my God,” he gasped, voice cracking.
Your tongue traced the underside of his shaft as you bobbed your head, wet and messy, letting spit drip down to your hand as you stroked the base. The silver ball of your piercing dragged along his sensitive spots, and every time it did, he twitched and whimpered like he couldn’t take it.
You pulled off for a second, letting your hand take over as you looked up at him with a smirk. His eyes were glazed, lips parted, chest rising and falling fast.
“You like that, baby?” you purred, thumbing his tip and watching him twitch.
He nodded fast, almost delirious. “Feels so good—fuck, your mouth—”
You giggled and leaned in again, licking a fat stripe up his shaft before wrapping your lips back around him, sucking harder this time. He was a mess now—muttering your name, hips jerking slightly despite trying to hold still, his hand drifting toward your hair before pulling back like he wasn’t sure he was allowed.
You paused just long enough to grab his hand and place it on your head.
“You can touch,” you said, voice wrecked and wet. “Just be gentle.”
Armin whimpered as you went back down on him, his fingers trembling in your braids. You picked up the pace, spit running down your chin now as you fucked him with your mouth, moaning softly just to feel the way he reacted. The vibration made him sob—a soft, high-pitched sound he tried to bite back, but you caught it.
“Lemme hear you,” you said between strokes, panting against his slick cock. “Don’t hold it in, Minnie. Wanna hear how good I’m makin’ you feel.”
"You're family—“
"Can't hear you, baby, please. Make a sound for me."
The whimper went straight to your core as you continued to work him over.
“Fuck, baby,” he whispered, barely hanging on. “I’m not—I don’t think I can last long.”
You pulled back, spit connecting your lips to his tip as you gave him a slow stroke. “Then don’t.”
Armin’s hips bucked at that, his thighs trembling.
“You want me to swallow?” you asked, licking a stripe up the side of his cock before taking him into your mouth again. “Wanna come down my throat, Minnie?”
He whined your name, voice all shaky and high like he was on the verge of tears. “Please—please, I’m gonna—!”
You moaned around him, taking him deeper as he came, back arching, mouth dropping open in a silent cry. You didn’t stop—just kept sucking him through it, feeling every twitch of his cock, swallowing every drop while his hand gripped your hair like his life depended on it.
When you finally pulled off with a wet pop, he looked wrecked. Hair all messy, lips bitten red, chest flushed and heaving. He blinked down at you like he couldn’t believe what just happened.
You smiled, wiping the corners of your mouth with the back of your hand.
“Take your time,” you said as you peeled off your tank top, then reached behind you to undo your bra.
Armin looked like he was dying. Hands limp beside him, lips parted in awe as his eyes locked onto your chest.
Then came the shorts—you hooked your fingers in the waistband and shimmied them down, revealing lacy black panties that were already a little damp.
You grabbed him by the hand, pulling him up gently. The blonde was a little rocky on his feet, his breathing uneven as his drunken gaze met yours.
You pulled him down to kiss you again, moaning softly as he bit your bottom lip. You switched places with the blonde, your back meeting the bed as you pulled him down with you.
"Wh-what are you doing?"
"Want you to take control, Minnie, I'll ride you later but wanna feel you like this first."
Armin nodded, eyes wide, face flushed and uncertain. His fingers gripped the sheets beside your head like he wasn’t sure where to touch.
“I’ve… I mean, I’ve done this before, just—” he paused, looking down at you, all nerves and hesitation. “Not like this.”
Your hand reached up, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “It’s okay, baby. I’ll help you.”
He swallowed hard, nodding again as his hand flexed against your skin. You reached between you, wrapping your fingers around his cock—still flushed, hard, and twitching—and guided him to your entrance.
You were soaked, and he felt it.
“Go slow,” you whispered, watching his face. “Just push in.”
Armin gasped as he pressed into you, the tight heat of you making him shudder. His breath hitched in his throat, eyes fluttering shut as your walls wrapped around him.
“Oh—oh my god,” he whimpered. “You feel—fuck—”
“Look at me,” you murmured, tilting your chin up. “I want you to look at me while you fuck me.”
His eyes opened again, and you swore you saw something shift in them—still nervous, but darker now. Hungrier. You hooked your leg around his waist, pulling him in deeper.
“That’s it,” you breathed, voice heady. “All the way in. Just like that.”
He bottomed out with a soft, broken moan, his hands gripping your hips now like he needed something to anchor him.
You arched up slightly, brushing your nose against his. “Now move, Minnie. Slow and deep. You’re not gonna hurt me.”
He started thrusting, shallow at first, still careful—like he didn’t trust himself.
“More,” you whispered, your hands cupping the back of his neck. “You can give me more.”
His hips snapped forward harder that time, a sharp gasp escaping him as he felt the way you squeezed around him in response.
“Fuck—does that feel good?” he asked, voice shaking.
“So good,” you moaned, head tipping back into the pillow. “You’re filling me up so good, baby.”
Armin leaned over you, arms trembling slightly as he thrust again, and again—deeper this time, hips slapping into yours with wet, sinful sounds. He was still breathing hard, still flushed, but the hesitation was slipping away.
“You’re doing so good,” you praised, eyes locked on his. “Look at you. Fucking me so well. Just needed a little push, huh?”
His jaw clenched, muscles tightening like he was holding back everything—his moans, his rhythm, the way his hips wanted to move harder.
You cupped his cheek, voice softer now. “Don’t hold back. I want you, Armin. All of you.”
Something broke in him at that. He leaned down, lips crashing into yours, and his thrusts turned rougher—more sure. His weight settled over you, one arm braced beside your head, the other gripping your thigh to keep it hitched high around his waist.
He was fucking you now, properly. The slap of skin echoed off your walls, each thrust pushing you further up the bed, the friction hot and perfect and so full.
“F-Fuck, I—” he gasped, head buried against your neck, “I don’t think I’m gonna last—”
“Yes you will,” you whispered into his ear. “Breathe. Stay with me.” Your fingers trailed up his chest before they wrapped around his neck softly.
He moaned your name, broken and needy, hips stuttering as your walls fluttered around him. You clenched on purpose, just to hear the way he choked on a curse.
You moaned as he delivered another rough snap with his hip, you fingers dug softly into his neck as you pulled him down, his lips capturing yours as he continued to fuck you.
The sounds bounced of the walls of your room, the squelching of your walls, the soft moans between you two as you continued to kiss.
Armin pulled away from you lips as you gave his neck another squeeze.
"F--fuck." You knew he was close, he wasn't gonna last long.
Your hands slid down your stomach as they found your clit, rubbing yourself softly as his strokes became sloppier.
“Can I—fuck—can I come inside?” he begged, voice cracking.
You held his face in your hands, thumb brushing over his flushed cheek. “Yes, baby. Fill me up. I want you to.”
Armin groaned—loud, raw—and his whole body locked up as he buried himself deep and came with a soft, wrecked cry. You felt the warmth of it flood you, his hips twitching through it, you pinched your clit sofrly, a moan leaving your lips as you helped him through his high.
When he finally started to calm down, he pulled back just enough to look at you. He was flushed, glowing, eyes glassy like he was still floating in that afterglow haze.
“I—I didn’t mean to come that fast,” he said, voice small.
You kissed his nose, your smile sweet and a little smug. “That was hot as hell, Armin. Don’t apologise.”
He blinked. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. And besides…” You reached between you, rubbing slow circles over your still-throbbing clit. “I did say I’d ride you later, didn’t I?”
His eyes widened.
“You’re not done?” he asked, voice already breathless again.
You smirked, licking your lips as you rolled him onto his back and swung a leg over his hips.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I LOVE YOUR BLOG SO MUCH WTFFF oh my god if you’re taking requests some bertholdt bf hcs + smut would be much appriciated
THANK YOU SM NONNIE 💕! bertl’s the sweetest guy ever and I just wanna lather him in kisses :) here’s a cluster of headcanons for him because he deserves it <3
— bertholdt hoover headcanons.
pairing: bertholdt hoover x f!reader
summary: a combination of fluff (and) smutty headcanons for bert!
content + warnings: sfw content, nsfw/smut, all characters are aged up (18+), somnophilia, size kink, oral (female and male receiving), female bodied reader, minors DNI with the nsfw segment of this post!
word count: 800+
( SFW! )
his body always feels really warm. bertl’s literally a walking heater. considering this, you have no clue why he’s always wearing long sleeves and fluffy sweaters.
has tons of coins in his pockets. tell this mf to get a piggy bank because you can hear all his loose change jangling around whenever he walks :0
he’s a menace in his own way ‘cause he can sleep in just about anything. dude gets so tired that he casually ends up falling asleep in something like jeans…
adding onto this by saying that he falls asleep anywhere. a simple park date between the two of you results in him dozing off on a bench.
bertholdt does pottery! he’s made a whole set of plates, bowls, vases and mugs for your kitchen and it's the sweetest thing ever.
this man cracks his fingers a lot. he just be poppin’ them hoes all the time.
he has really long lashes; to be more specific, bertholdt just the prettiest eyes ever. the soft look in his pale green irises makes him seem so sweet.
he’s accidentally kicked a child before… in his defense, with his height he could hardly see the poor kid 😭
for whatever reason, he isn’t very fond of armin. (because you were dared to kiss the blonde at a party and he hasn’t let it go since :/)
bertl loves applesauce. don't ask why, he just does.
he acts as though you guys aren’t an official couple sometimes, it's as if he’s still in the crush phase. like, he’ll get all flustered when you shoot him a nice compliment, or if there’s the slightest hint of physical contact between you, he’s blushing like a middle schooler that’s got a bad case of puppy love. he just can’t seem to get used to the affection. you’re just like ‘haven’t we been dating for forever now???’
he falls for people really easily, love at first sight type shit. it’s probably rooted in his yearn for others to truly acknowledge him.
bertholdt is extremely (scarily) punctual. he prefers going somewhere an hour early rather than a minute late.
gets annoyed really easily, but lets things go even quicker. you could watch him roll his eyes over something and he’s smiling a second later like boy I thought you were mad 😭!?!??
he’s adopted the habit of putting his feet on you just to mess with you. it’s annoyingly cute.
he’s always beside you. it’s that he’s either latched onto your arm, or standing behind you with his hand on your hip. bertl’s so touchy and doesn’t even notice it, he just wants to be close to you. he’s the literal epitome of following someone around like a lost puppy.
loves to wrap his arms around your torso. he feels big and confident when encircling your middle and pulling you close to him, and he utterly loves how you lean into him. he just absorbs your warmth with red-tinted cheeks and a rapidly beating heart.
( NSFW! )
this man goes crazy for (consented!) somnophilia. whether it be on you or him, he doesn’t care— he just loves it.
you commonly wake up to his pussy-drunk self making out with your cunt. he scrutinizes your expressions, takes in your breathy moans, peering up at you with such pleading eyes. he’s begging you to let go, to cum in his mouth. he lets out the lewdest sounds when you finally release, drinking up your essence and licking you clean.
and when you surprise him with a blowjob while he’s asleep? that’s what he likes to call paradise. once he wakes, he's growing stiff against your spit-lathered lips, softly moaning over the lazy pump of your hand running against his shaft. climaxes so fast that it’s practically embarrassing. he dirties your face with his cum, his chest heaving and face painted with scattered blush.
absolute king at fingering omgg!!! he knows how to put those lithe fingers to work. just one digit can make a total mess out of you.
his happy trail is a beauty to behold. whenever his lean frame is revealed, you can’t tear your eyes away from his pelivs. just yes.
big dick bertholdt!!!!!!!!! must I say more?
he hits so fucking deep, I don’t think he realizes how big he is. the shallowest thrust from him is already hitting your guts like damn. he’ll never get over how he’s able to make you to fall apart so quickly.
SIZE KINK SIZE KINK SIZE KIIINK! did I say size kink? because he fucking loves that. having sex with you really opens his eyes to how big he is. because fuck, how is he able to tower over you so easily? he’d never admit to how cocky it makes him; being able to bend you to his will, with the help of his huge hands, convincing smile, and long fucking cock.
stormborns
snowghoul
ellievsbear
pixelskylines
baratheonpilled
titsay
germansingergirl
