#m!reader smut

“Jabber,” The ache in your abdomen pulls a whine from your lips.

“Nuh uh.” Jabber drawls before inhaling a deep lungful of smoke. “Hold out for me, yeah?”

His grip on your thigh keeps you firmly in place underneath him. The view of him from down here is breathtaking. The concentration laced between his eyebrows paired with the bliss dancing along his features is enough to have your cock chubbing up once more.

You throw your head back, fingers gripping the sheets underneath you to further ground your trembling form. The stickiness on your pelvis is only slightly uncomfortable, though you’re under the impression Jabber seems to like it. Of course he would. “I can’t. ‘S too much. Too much, baby.”

Jabber hums lowly, leaning down and giving you a mischievous glare before exhaling an impressive cloud of smoke into the distance between you both.

The hand which once held your head in place now grips your face in a three-finger grip. He shines a toothy grin down at you and watches your eyes bolt shut at the sudden gesture. Then, comes the coughing fit. “I’m sure you know that makes it worse.”

Your coughs are violent and throaty. Tears prick your eyes and you pull in a deep breath of air in a failed attempt to fill your lungs with oxygen. The plowing inside of you doesn’t ease up— in fact, it seems to speed up. The headboard bangs against the wall loudly. Luckily, the distance between the houses on your block are quite great.

Wrapping your fingers around Jabber’s forearm, you blink up at the culprit of your deprivation of air. “Y-you asshole.”

Jabber shrugs, “I am what I eat, right?” He pulls out of your glistening hole only to plunge back in. The melody of his hips against you is a loud, filthy song. His movements as controlled as they are quick. You won’t admit it out loud, but Jabber is fucking good at this. “Catch your breath, baby. I gotta hit it one more time.”

You would roll your eyes if you weren’t so sensitive it hurts. His thumb caresses your jaw gently in much contrast to everything else he’s doing. It’s his way of comforting you. “Okay,” You nods subtly, “I can do it.”

“You can do it.”

*~•~*

Enjin

“Shit,” Enjin huffs out a chuckle, watching as your form trembles above his. His large palm squeezes your hip and holds you upright while he stares into the glossy orbs that are your eyes. “Just like that. Atta boy.”

You bite down on the inside of your cheek to conceal the pants and whimpers threatening to escape. Your thighs quiver around Enjin’s. How long does he expect you to keep this up?

There’s a hand on the back of your neck, then you’re pulled down so you’re just inches away from his face. His eyes are low and a soft red hue. His yellow irises stare back into yours. You’d shy away if you weren’t fucking yourself to another orgasm in his lap.

“That’s it. Like taking that dick, don’t you?” The corner of his mouth lifts. “Yeah, you do. Look at you, already so eager for another nut.”

You retreat into the crook of his neck. “Enjin!” He’s so fucking vulgar, and what for?

“Aw, I’m sorry. C’mere.” Enjin kisses your cheek before biting down on your bottom lip. “Say ahh.”

His hips snap against you, jostling your body above him much quicker than it was previously. Your fingers dig into the couch to ground yourself. Without a second thought, you part your lips.

A thick cloud of smoke invades your space. Immediately, you flinch and let out a cough. One turns to another then another. It had come in contact with your eyes which caused you to bolt them shut.

Enjin doesn’t allow you to catch your breath before he’s thrusting back into your sensitive, spent body. His fingers grip your jaw, “Look at me, baby.”

So you do. Your chest rises and falls heavily, still singed from the smoke.

“Catch your breath. We still have the rest of the night.”

©️jwnsslvt; do not plagiarize or feed into AI, ya heard?

jwnsslvt: I like how your brain works, Anon! Thank you for the request, and I hope it is to your satisfaction!

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"Dr. Michael Robinavitch, can I have a word?"

Your clipped voice rang out through the empty corridor that led to the peds ward, hand clenching your tablet with a vice grip. You could almost hear your teeth grinding against each other; the effort to contain yourself proving to be a bit more than you could handle at the moment. Your eyes followed the group of residents chortling at the nurse's station, and the sudden silence that followed at your stern voice.

Dr. Robby looks up from his charts, wide eyed but still defiant, as he stares you down across the center console. He whispers something to Dr. Abbot, who tries hiding a smile but fails miserably, and saunters over to where you're standing.

"Yes, sir?" He croons, his height forcing you to look up at him, much to your chagrin.

"Did you perform the Tracheostomy on the patient in central 6?"

"She had subglottic stenosis with a severe stridor. I made a decision." He shrugs, making you bristle with further irritation.

The audacity of this bitch.

"Dr. Robinavitch, you are aware that a resident is not allowed to perform tracheostomies in the ED? The ENT surgeons are up my ass, saying that I can't control my residents, much less lead the department!"

He gives a noncommittal shrug, challenging your authority so blatantly, before mumbling an insincere apology and slinking out of your wrathful gaze.

Oh, he was getting it tonight.

"Holy fuck!" Robby groans as the leash you have around his neck gets tighter and tighter; your enclosed fist circling the band to cut off his air supply effectively. You can see his eyes roll back into his eyes, face red as the day he was born, mouth open and drooling, as he ruts into your ass with abandon.

"You need to learn who's in charge, boy", you spit, wrapping your legs around his back and forcing him deeper within you. He whines low in his throat, nodding lightly, but you know he's still not learnt his lesson.

You tighten the leash further, making him sit back on his haunches and use both his hands to tug at the collar around his neck, coughing lightly. His throbbing cock was still inside you, and you pushed back into him, taking your pleasure like he was nothing more than a toy.

"Don't you ever disobey me, you got that?" You seethe, as Robby tries his hardest to stay conscious. "I own you. You do what I tell you to. You don't take a step outta line, or you face the consequences. I tell you not to do something, you don't. Do. It. You get me? Nod if you hear me, pet."

He nods, mouth wide open and tongue lolling out. The drool dripping from the side of his mouth streaked your own cock slick, and you loosened the leash a bit to use your other hand to stroke your cock to the rhythm of his thrusts.

Robby takes a deep breath and falls forward, nose almost smushing against your own. You chuckle at his fucked out stage and use your free hand to snake into his hair and pulls backwards. He hisses in pain but his pace quickens, eager to get you both to the edge.

"Yes, yes, keep going, puppy," you scrape your nails down his back, and he moans your name close to your ear. It was a filthy sound, so broken, it made your heart quiver and your dick twitch. You were close, you just needed his complete submission.

"Say it, baby. Who owns you?"

"You do, sir. You own my body, sir."

A shudder ran through you, and you feel yourself hurtling over the cliff at his sweet words. You moan loudly into the night air, rutting back against him with fervor. Hot ropes of cum paint both your tummies, and you can feel that your orgasm was what pushed Robby over the edge, too.

He shouted out curses as his hips stuttered to a stop, eyes squeezed shut. His cum coats your ass in a warmth that felt as close to love as you think you'll ever get.

This living room is nice. The gibbous moon helps you to see, as you squint your eyes to look out the patio door. You can kind of see the lake from here. But it’s hard to make it out in the darkness. Really, this whole house is nice. Armin’s grandparents must be rich rich. But this couch isn’t really made for sleeping on.

The beds weren’t, either. Clearly, Armin’s grandparents don’t spend any of their time here. The beds were usable — twin-sized mattresses and rickety wood frames. But, you doubt either of you could even fit on those beds if you lied straight. And on top, there were those faded quilts that must’ve been a century old. Usable. But not quite fit for the sweltering heat.

So, you and Armin opted for the sectional couch in the living room. It’s big enough to fit the both of you — one on each side — and the pillows from the bedroom and the few blankets from the linen closet worked well enough. The big skylight is pretty, you can see all the stars in the sky, and the patio is nice. The fabric of the couch doesn’t complement sunburn, though.

Armin knows this better than you do. Forgetting to put sunscreen on his face just once got him this stupid sunburn. It’s not debilitating, and the aloe vera helped. But the rough texture of the couch against his face, when he moves just a bit too low on his pillow, reminds him that sunscreen is very important. Besides, he can hear you shifting around, and it’s not putting him at ease. He at least wants you to be able to sleep. He sits up and sees that you’ve already done the same.

“Can’t sleep?” He asks, and you jump, startled. You hadn’t heard him at all. “Yeah. Sorry, did I wake you up?” You reply, and try to make eye contact in the darkness. You can see him pretty clearly, and he’s definitely looking at your face — but he’s also definitely not making eye contact with you. You look to his left and you think you can see his glasses on the end table. Of course, why would he be wearing them to bed?

“No, no, it’s fine.” You watch him try to rub his face, and then he flinches. “Sunburn.” He points at his face as if you didn’t already know. He shakes his head. “I’m tired,” he breathes. “Me too,” you nod, laughing to yourself at his dysfunctional state. You yawn, and stretch, but immediately regret moving your arms away from your body. The AC is definitely too high. You shiver slightly. “It’s cold as hell,” you mumble, and he looks around, searching for the thermostat. He struggles to see much of anything in the darkness. Been nearsighted his whole life.

“It’s fine, Min, don’t worry about it. It’s better than outside.” You say, after watching him look around the room for a few moments. He turns back to you and smiles gently, but you can see the goosebumps on his skin. He’s shirtless, wearing a pair of sweatpants. You’re wearing about the opposite, an old sleep shirt and cotton boxers. “Sorry that I can’t turn it down some, Grandpa set it up before we came. He said that it was really finicky and told me not to mess with it at all.” He mumbles, shifting slightly. “I’m sure that we could just turn it down, but… he seemed pretty serious about it.” He adds. You barely register what he’s said, staring at his bare skin and the way his chest rises and falls subtly as he breathes.

You’re glad he’s not wearing his glasses. You look back into his eyes and it doesn’t seem like he noticed your staring. God, he looks so good — his hair is messy from sleep, and his blue eyes reflect the moonlight like diamonds. You watch him shiver, and then he shifts again. He seems nervous. “It’s okay, not your fault. I wouldn’t wanna do anything if he said not to.” You respond, a bit late. He nods. You’re not sure if he’s really paying attention to what you’ve said either.

Armin thinks back to a night a few months ago, after one of Connie’s parties. You had told Armin that you didn’t feel like being by yourself, and he offered to let you stay the night. Originally, you were going to sleep on the couch, but after a few restless hours, you wordlessly crawled into Armin’s bed. He was going to ask what you were doing — not that he minded at all, (secretly, he was a mess, you were curled up against him in his bed!) — but you really did look tired. Like you needed the sleep. Like you couldn’t sleep without him. So, he didn’t say anything. Just a few minutes later, he could hear your breathing evening out.

He’s sure that now, the situation would be similar. That if you lie with him, you would be able to sleep. And, it’s cold. He could help keep you warm. That’s all there is to it. He has no other reasons to want to lie with you. He convinces himself of this, that he only wants to sleep with you in his arms because you might appreciate it. That’s all it is. Definitely not because he wants to feel you, your breathing, your heartbeat. Hear your blinking and the quiet noises you make in your sleep. Run his fingers along your arms, your back, your legs. He definitely doesn’t want to do any of that.

“Well, um… I could lie with you, if you wanted. Just because it’s cold — and I know that…” A pause. “…know that you have trouble sleeping by yourself sometimes.” He suggests, and your stomach fills with butterflies. You can’t really read him. He sounds nervous. But, he’s clearly thinking something, and you have no idea what.

He isn’t nervous that you’re going to say no. He knows that you’ll agree with him — he isn’t worried about getting rejected. He’s just worried you’ll get the wrong idea. You’ll think it’s because he wants to get close to you, wants to hold you, wants to kiss your skin and tell you that he loves you. The wrong idea. He’s only offering because he knows it’ll help you sleep. Right?

“I — yeah. Yeah, that would be great. Thanks.” You murmur a reply, failing miserably to hide your embarrassment. Of course, you want it. That would be the most amazing thing in the world. You just can’t believe he asked. And he was so normal about it, too. Sure, he seemed a little nervous, but he asked about it like it was no big deal. Your face warms just thinking about it — about lying with him, feeling his warmth. Maybe he would run his fingers through your hair.

Or, maybe you’re making it a bigger deal than it actually is. Maybe he just means that he’ll lie next to you and that you’ll face opposite directions. You pray that he doesn’t mean that. You hope he means he’ll hold you close, as close as he can. That he’ll keep you warm and kiss your hair.

He stands and walks towards your section of the couch. You sit there awkwardly, not sure what to do. He lies down, his head now on your pillow. He looks up at you expectantly. You notice how good he looks, his blonde hair splayed out across the pillow like that. Looking up at you with those pretty blue eyes and pouty lips. You blink, trying to refocus.

You realize that you two do not fit on this couch at all. It’s already a bit cramped for one person to sleep, and Armin completely takes up the whole section. You shift, unsure of what to do. You could lie on him, but… that’s probably not what he means. You stare at his chest — a lot more obvious than you think you are — and wonder if you should do it.

He parts his lips to speak, but you make up your mind, and he closes his mouth again. You rest your head on his chest, your arm across his torso. You sling one of your legs over his hips, now mostly lying on top of him. You feel his breath hitch, but he doesn’t say anything. He squirms slightly to get more comfortable, then pulls you a bit closer. It’s now that you understand how much trouble you’re in.

He smells so nice. Like cedar and vanilla. Like he’s been out in the sun. Your stomach flips, thinking about how his bed and his clothes smell like him too. You want to sleep in his bed with him when you get back. Okay, wow. You’re getting ahead of yourself. But he does have his hand on your lower back, and you’re pretty sure you’re going to flatline right now. His skin is so warm, and you can hear his heartbeat — slow and steady. It’s putting you to sleep. You never want to leave here.

But, you will yourself to stay awake. Yeah, you wanna sleep… but there’s no way you could waste this opportunity by falling asleep and having to get up and forget about it in the morning. He has freckles all across his arms and chest, all over his skin. You trace your fingertips over them without even thinking about it. He’s so pretty, and you want to memorize everything about his body. He shivers under your touch and you pull away, realizing what you’re doing. “Sorry,” you mumble, hiding your face in his skin, knowing that he must be looking at you.

“No, it’s — it’s fine,” he breathes. He sounds a lot less confident than he means to. You can feel his breathing speed up, but he keeps his hand on your back. His fingers tighten and grip your shirt slightly. Like he doesn’t want you to leave. Armin stares at the ceiling. He keeps himself from looking at you. Even though he’s the one who suggested this, he knows he might do something he regrets if he looks down at you — sees your head on his chest, your pretty hands, your long legs, beautiful eyes… He shouldn’t look.

The silence stretches on. Armin is almost completely still, like he’s scared to move — scared to disturb you. You squirm on top of him, suddenly wanting to be closer. You’re embarrassed about it, you’re already so close to him, you literally have your head on his chest… and yet, you want to be closer. You feel a familiar warmth in your stomach and you want to run, and scream, you want to go home and get away from this man that has completely captured you.

You shut your eyes tight and try to ignore it. You try to push away the thoughts filling your head, about what he could do to you, how you could make him sound. You think of his hands and his mouth, and his cock, and now you’re really embarrassed — you’re sure he can feel your heartbeat and your breathing pick up, how your face warms… how your thighs shift slightly. He must know.

Unbeknownst to you, Armin has barely noticed your state. He’s too busy thinking about how you feel against him, the warmth of your skin, and the fidgety touch of your hands. He’s trying to ignore his thoughts, too, thoughts about kissing you and making you feel good. He moves his hand, rubbing your back soothingly. He can feel that you’re still awake, and he just wants you to be comfortable and be able to sleep. He hears you whimper quietly and he finally turns his attention back to you, looking away from the ceiling and towards your face.

He says your name softly, seeing your small squirming and labored breath. “You alright?” He asks in a low voice, not wanting to be too loud. He is genuinely concerned, worried that you might be uncomfortable. You sit up, your hand on his chest. You’re basically sitting on his thigh. You part your lips to speak, but you don’t say anything. He blinks up at you, seeing your flushed face and blown pupils.

Even in the low light, you watch his face start to turn red. His eyes trail down your body, slowly, as if trying to make sure he’s not seeing anything. He notices your body language, how your hips shift ever so slightly, and he really can’t believe what he’s seeing. You’re turned on? Why? Did he do something? But, really, he can’t imagine you being turned on by him for any reason. Not even because he has low self-esteem or something, just that… it’s you. He knows you aren’t straight, but, there’s no way that he’s your type.

He thinks this until you look at him with fuck-me eyes, and he starts to reconsider. Seeing you looking at him like that, his self-control flies out the window. You two stay like this for a moment. You sit there, far too nervous to make a move or say anything — you’re already mortified that Armin is seeing you like this.

Until he places a hand on your waist. He reaches up with his right hand and cradles your face in his palm. He says your name again, in a way you’ve never heard him say before. So tender, so sweet, like you’re something to be worshipped. Your stomach flips when he starts to pull you closer — pull you down to him. “C’mere,” he murmurs, pulling your face even closer to his own. You close your eyes at the same time as him and he presses his lips to yours.

You must be dreaming. This can’t be real. Armin is actually kissing you. Your neck hurts slightly from leaning over like this, so you move off from on top of him. You lie on your side, your back against the back of the couch, and he turns onto his side as well. He keeps kissing you, and he moves the hand that was on your face into your hair. You wrap your arms around his neck and he sighs against you, running his tongue over your bottom lip. 

You start to open your mouth, wanting more, wanting all of him. But, he suddenly freezes, pulling away. He keeps his hands where they are. His breathing is fast as he stares at you, and you pout, wondering what happened. Did you do something? Were you reading this all wrong? Does he not want you? Is he mad? Your mind spirals as he continues to stare at you, and now you feel sick.

“I — I’m sorry,” he finally says, and he has this look of guilt on his face that makes you want to cry. “I don’t know why I…” He trails off, looking back at your lips again, then quickly back to your eyes. He parts his lips to speak again, and you don’t want to hear it anymore — him apologizing for kissing you. You’ve been wanting this ever since you met him, and he’s apologizing. You might have to kill him.

You kiss him again before he can say anything else. He seems to forget his guilt because he pulls you closer, his leg slotting between yours. You don’t even think about it — grinding your hips lightly against his thigh. You harden embarrassingly fast, and hope he doesn’t notice. You gasp softly from the small, muted pleasure, and he takes the opportunity, sliding his tongue into your mouth. You reciprocate, and move one hand up his neck into his hair, tugging slightly. He moans. You pull away to breathe for a moment, and you’ve never been more mad to be out of breath. “Armin,” you whisper, and he nods, his eyes glazed over. “Mhm,” he responds, pulling you back in.

You can feel him, semi-hard in those stupid gray sweatpants that have been driving you crazy since you got here. You keep kissing him, unhooking an arm from around his neck. You reach down, palming him through his sweatpants. He groans, and you feel him harden under your touch. His hips jerk slightly as you run your fingers up and down the outline of his dick against his thigh. He’s fully hard now and his grip on your waist is almost painful.

Reluctantly, you pull away from the kiss. You dip your head down and press your lips against the warm skin of his neck. He shivers, hand cradling the back of your head. You press open-mouth kisses along the column of his throat, sucking lightly, but careful not to leave any marks. You move lower, to his collarbones, along his shoulder.

He says your name softly, pulling his leg out from between yours. He reaches for the waistband of your boxers — he felt your grinding earlier and knows you’re just as hard as he is. He hooks his fingers under the elastic, but you grab his wrist, lifting your head to look at him.

He looks at you, unsure of what's happening. He doesn’t know what to say — can’t tell how you’re feeling. He doesn’t want to say the wrong thing. You, on the other hand, know exactly how you feel, but you struggle to find any words to describe the way you want him.

“I — I wanna suck you off,” you eventually blurt out, giving up on trying to find some more graceful way to say it. Of course, you want him to touch you, but now isn’t the time. You need to make him feel good. It’s all you’ve ever dreamed about since you first saw him. It’s not about you. And, you hope that after this, there’ll be plenty more opportunities for him to help you. Just not now.

“Okay,” he laughs, but you can still hear the same heat in his voice. You untangle your limbs from each other, and he sits up, waiting to see what you want to do. You get up from the couch, kneeling on the floor in front of him. He sits back, his legs spread wide enough for you to have enough room. You reach up to try to tug at his sweatpants, but he stops you. “Wait,” he says, looking like he just remembered something.

He stands from the couch, practically stepping over you. He walks back over to the other section of the couch where he had been previously sleeping — and grabs his glasses from the end table. He walks back over, quickly resituating himself. He puts his glasses back on and looks down at you, motioning for you to continue. “Sorry. Wanna see you,” he says lowly, with a soft smile.

You smile back, meekly, and tug on his sweatpants again. You hook your fingers under the elastic, along with his boxers, and pull them down, letting them pool at his ankles. His cock springs free, hitting his stomach. You’re so ardent that you almost feel sick — you’ve been waiting so long to finally have Armin like this. And he’s here, now, tanned from the sun and hair messy from sleep, his skin bare for you. He’s hard for you.

You spit into your hand, and reach up, wrapping your fingers around him and pumping him lightly — feeling the slight thrum of his pulse under your palm. You smooth your thumb over his reddened tip, smearing a sticky bead of his pre over his slit. He hisses, limbs tightening and then relaxing slightly. You scoot forward a bit, moving your hand up and down loosely. He sighs quietly, his fingers twitching at his sides.

You press your lips tentatively to his tip, making your way down with feather-light kisses. He says your name, almost whiney, looking down at you with half-lidded eyes. He doesn’t say anything more, but from the way you can feel him pulsing in your hand, you understand that he’s impatient.

You kitten-lick at the tip before pulling your hand away, running your tongue along the bottom of his shaft, feeling the vein there. He groans softly, his hand coming to cup your cheek. “C’mon,” he says gently. And you thought you were the impatient one.

You bring your hand back, wrapping your fingers around the base. No way you’re fitting all of him. You finally wrap your lips around his tip, sucking lightly, before relaxing your throat, moving down further. He gasps quietly, and you can feel him resist the urge to buck his hips into your mouth.

You reach about as far as you can go without gagging and embarrassing yourself, so you work the rest of him with your hand. You pull your head back up slowly, swirling your tongue around his length. He groans, moving his hand to the top of your head. He slides his fingers into your hair gently, massaging your scalp lightly.

You continue this, bobbing your head up and down, and he whines, his head slumping back against the couch. His hips jerk slightly and he pushes himself further into your mouth. You force down the gag that builds in the back of your throat. “Sorry, I — fuck,” he gasps, his fingers tightening in your hair slightly. He’s sure you’re trying to suck the life out of him. “You look so good.” He breathes, another moan falling from his lips. “Feels amazing,” he adds, looking down at you with bleary eyes.

You keep going, hollowing your cheeks, determined to make him feel even better. God, he makes the prettiest noises. With another moan from Armin, louder than you thought he would be, his hips thrust up into your mouth. He hits the back of your throat and you gag around him. His fingers comb through your hair as if trying to soothe you. Despite the burn in your lungs, you don’t stop.

You grow increasingly distracted by your own problem — that you’re still just as hard as he is, leaking and staining your boxers. You can feel your pre-cum against your thigh, sticky and uncomfortable. Reluctantly, you lift your head, pulling off him. You keep using your hand, slick from your saliva. You try to catch your breath, and he tries to catch his. He has a small pout on his face, probably disheartened that you stopped. 

You pull yourself through the fly in your boxers, not the most comfortable — but you don’t really feel like getting up and taking them off. You spit into your hand like you did for Armin earlier, and you stroke yourself at about the same speed as you do him. You feel relief almost instantly, biting your lip at the respite. Feels a lot better than sitting there shifting your thighs. Your eyes flutter shut and you rest your head against his thigh, your breathing finally slowing.

“You okay?” He asks gently, running his fingers through your hair. He sounds just as winded as you. “Mhm,” you nod, kissing up his shaft again. You sit back up, resuming your ministrations with your mouth — and you swear he’s harder than before, if it’s even possible.

You keep your gaze locked on his eyes, but you notice he isn’t making eye contact with you. He stares between your legs — watching as you touch yourself — and you squirm. This is so embarrassing. He moans again, and he sounds like heaven. He must notice your embarrassment.

“You know, I — I’ve wanted you since Eren introduced us,” he breathes, head tilting back. “Well, maybe I shouldn’t say this, but—” his hips jerk again and he moans, interrupting himself. His fingers tighten more in your hair, and it hurts a little, but you don’t mind. You know he can’t help it. “Fuck… I’ve been… getting off to you — all the… all the time, I — do you… do you too? Have you been?” He gasps, and he looks like he regrets saying anything. You’re embarrassed to admit it, but of course you have. You’re sure you do it more than he does. Kind of humiliating, even thinking about yourself doing that. How desperate have you gotten?

Even so, he just admitted that he does it too, and you never thought you’d even get to be here. Giving Armin a blowjob.

Well — not really. You have thought about it. Probably too many times, touching yourself in the dead of night, thinking about your best friend and all the things you could do to him. All the things he could do to you. Moaning his name into your pillow just to see him the next day and act like nothing happened.

You whimper around him, having no other way to truly communicate. The sound sends vibrations up and down his shaft and he whines. He looks into your eyes, his gaze so tender you feel like crying. You try your best to smile up at him, and nod a little, even with your mouth occupied. You swear he whimpers as he stares down at you, cupping your face with one hand and keeping the other in your hair. “Yeah?” He asks, eyebrows pinching together, just as embarrassed as you are.

He laughs to himself, his muscles tensing. “Glad to know it’s not just me,” he laughs, his voice strained. You watch his stomach tighten, his thighs closing slightly. He hiccups out a moan, tugging on your hair. “Wait,” he gasps, as you run your tongue up the side of his length. “I’m—“ He cuts himself off with a groan, his head hitting the back of the couch with a quiet thump. “Wait, wait,” he moans, with a mumble of your name.

He must be close. You watch him shut his eyes tight as he continues to pull on your hair, probably without even realizing it. You try to relax your throat as much as possible, hoping to bring him closer to the edge. You speed up your own hand — making sure that you’re just as close as he is. It’s a lot, and your hips jerk away from the stimulation. It’s too much, you can barely make yourself keep up the pace, but you have to. There’s no way he finishes before you.

His jaw clenches and then goes slack, his mouth hanging open slightly. He’s quiet now, his body so tense that it looks painful. He moans, just once, and he gasps your name, and you swear you see his back arch ever so slightly as he comes without much warning. You swallow harshly on instinct, and, while it’s not a lot, you assumed it would be a few more minutes.

Nothing against him, he looks absolutely amazing above you — chest heaving and face somehow even redder than his sunburn. His hair is a bit mussed up, but, maybe it’s always been like that. And his glasses are slightly crooked.

But, so much for finishing before him.

You pull off of him with a quiet pop, and you bring your now free hand to rest on his thigh. You continue to chase your own high, and you bite your lip, not wanting to make any embarrassing sounds now that he’s done. You rest your cheek against his other thigh like you had before, whining quietly, your hips bucking into your hand. Armin’s still out of it, his eyes shut. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anything better than this — your best friend, all fucked out. Because of you.

With a few last touches, you finally reach your own peak, after what felt like hours. You feel electricity shoot through you as you, thankfully, release into the palm of your hand. If you had stained the rug it might’ve been the death of you. You moan from the overwhelming pleasure, all of it much faster than you’re used to. Usually, you take as much time as you need with this — in the comfort of your own bed in the middle of the night. Alone. And, now, here you are, having made yourself come, in maybe 5 minutes, on your knees, in front of your best friend. Not the most familiar.

You take some time to catch your breath, eventually sitting back up and quickly pulling yourself back into your boxers. You stay there awkwardly with your hand all soiled, wondering what’s next. He opens his eyes, coming down from his high. He looks down at you and smiles. “Wow. Oh my god,” he laughs, still panting. You nod, laughing with him. You get up, feeling a bit of an ache in your legs from having stayed in the same position for so long. “Um… let me…” You mumble, embarrassed, gesturing to your messy hand. He nods, getting what you mean.

You quickly head to the bathroom, washing your hands thoroughly to get rid of any evidence of your encounter. You look at yourself in the mirror. Your hair is all a mess from Armin pulling and running his fingers through it. Your face is still flushed, lips a little swollen. You splash some cold water on your face, hoping to get a grip, because you’re not sure what happens next.

Are things gonna be weird? Maybe he’ll have some post-nut clarity and never want to talk to you again. Maybe he was straight this whole time and will think you’re weird for wanting to do it. Maybe he’ll tell everyone about how bad you are at giving head.

Or, maybe not. You’re overthinking this. Armin’s not like that. Maybe he’ll say he likes you just as much as you like him. Hopefully, you’ll get together and finally get to be with the man you’ve been so in love with. You’re pretty sure things will be normal.

You head back to the living room, feeling cold again now that he’s not with you. You had forgotten about the AC. You regret splashing cold water on your face. But, you’re pretty sure it’s really because Armin was so warm and now you’re not with him. Yes, it’s cold, but it’s not that cold. You walk a little quicker to get back to him. This house is too big.

You get back, seeing him sprawled out on your side of the couch. He’s pulled his boxers and sweatpants back on, and he’s taken his glasses off. He opens his eyes at the sound of your footsteps and sees you standing there awkwardly. He smiles, gesturing for you to come closer.

You walk up to him, unsure what to do.

“C’mere, lie down.” He urges quietly, sounding tired. You smile back and climb over him, lying your head on his chest like you’d done before. You melt into him — he’s so warm. So comfortable. He scratches your back gently, and you sigh contentedly, pressing a gentle kiss to his neck.

You know you should talk. Figure out what all this means. Are you still friends… or something more? And figure out if he actually likes you, because you were always convinced he was straight.

But, he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer. You realize how tired you are, limbs exhausted from swimming all day, every day, since you got here. And you’ve been getting mediocre sleep, just enough to feel like enough. And, well, you just came a few minutes ago. So did Armin. He’s just as tired as you are.

So you won’t talk about it right now. You can talk in the morning when you’re both well-rested and in your right mind. But, for now, you can let your eyes flutter shut, let your muscles relax, and let yourself sink into Armin’s embrace. Just before you fall asleep, you’re sure that you’ll get to have many more nights with Armin like this.

Usually, he's dressed in dark denim overalls, usually over a hoodie of some sort with paint all over himself. Tonight is different, though. He's in a graphic tee you easily recognize as yours (you must have left it one night you slept over) and a pair of boxers, and his hair is in a loose ponytail to the back of his head. He's comfortable.

It was only a matter of time before your attention was off the movie and on your unsuspecting boyfriend. You almost felt bad when you pulled him in for a kiss because of the whine he let out. He told you he wanted to watch the movie, and to focus, so that is exactly what you did. After all, you liked it so far.

Then, his eyes were on you. The brown irises basked in blue light radiating from the television stared up at you from his spot on your chest. How is it that you look so damned handsome just watching a screen? He isn't sure, but he can appreciate it. It must be the artist in him. Of course you caught him starting but he didn't look away either. Instead, you felt him throw his leg over yours and claim his favorite spot in your lap.

Next thing you know, you have August underneath you, whimpering into your mouth as your tongue rubs against his. The blanket is discarded in a messy bundle at the foot of the mattress. He sounds so good, you can't help wanting to hear the sound over and over again. You cup the warmth of his cheek in your palm, and pull him in deeper. His lips half reciprocate the wet kisses, and half remain slack as he softly moans against your mouth. You two have kissed before, but it's something about this time that just feels different. August breaks the kiss to suck in a much-needed breath, eyes averting your gaze as soon as he realizes you're the one staring again. Cute.

"Not hiding from me, are you?" You chuckle, straightening your posture to give him some room. "You okay?"

August nods as he sits up on his elbows. "Yeah- I'm okay."

"Horny?"

"Y/n!"

You watch as August lies back down, hands coming up to hide his face as he mumbles something about how bold you are. He's right, so you don't fight him on it. "Me too." You grab August by his thighs and pull him down so that your pelvis is flush against him. You're hard, undeniably so.

August's thighs twitch around you when he feels the stiffness of your dick pressing against his ass. As many times as he felt your boner against his back while you two slept next to each other, the difference tonight is that there's a very high chance it'll be inside of him. The thought makes his stomach tight with want. Your gaze on him doesn't help with the coil either. "Stop staring!"

"You don't really want that." Your hands make their up to August's wrists, gently pulling his hands from his face and pinning them above his head. "Right? It's okay, you can tell me, baby."

His face is red. "I do- I like it. Happy now?" Then, a gasp leaves his mouth when you roll your hips against him. Feeling just how hard you are for him makes his own dick twitch in anticipation.

"I love when you use your words." You grin, stealing a kiss from his lips. August is the one to escalate things a bit further by grabbing the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head. His dark brown eyes drink in every inch of your upper body, admiring the dips and ridges of your skin stretching along the muscle.

When you reach for his shirt to reciprocate the action, August's hands are quick to push at your chest in hesitation. "Wait- y/n...I want to leave my shirt on."

Your gaze softens, fingers easing their hold on his shirt. "Yeah?"

August nods, averting his gaze once again. "If that's okay."

Of course it's okay. It's his choice, and you're going to stand by it. You have no reason to fight him on what he wants to conceal on his body. You don't know his reasoning and won't pry. Instead, you smooth your hands over his midsection and up to his chest, thumbs rubbing at his erect nipples through the fabric. "It's fine, baby." You lean down, capturing his lips in a softer kiss in rhythm of your thumbs on top of his nipples.

August's hips roll down onto you, hands scrambling for purchase on your forearms. He's always been a little sensitive, whining and crying out at the slightest touches. "Mm- aah, y/n!" He cries against your lips, throwing his head back when you pinch his nipple between your thumb and forefinger. "Sensitive, so- mm - sorry! Can’t help it - ooh."

"Oh, baby. You think I mind?" You hum, licking a thick stripe down to his Adam's apple. "Never."

Your hands are quick and greedy, pulling at August's boxers and dropping them off the side of the bed. As you kiss and suck ruthless love bites into the fair skin of his neck, your hands grab and knead the flesh of his hips. Your thumbs press gently into his pelvis, stroking the skin closer and closer to his v-line. "You're so perfect." You mumble into his skin. "All of you. You're so perfect, and you're all mine."

You run your hand down to his throbbing erection strained between you two. It's your first time seeing it, of course you're going to marvel at the perfection that is your boyfriend. The velvety tip is glistening with slick precum which worms down the underside of his girth. At the base of his dick is a tuft of soft, blond hair corresponding with the locs atop his head. His balls are big, so full of arousal. Oh, hell. You're going to ravish him.

Your eyes travel further, between the plush of his ass. Your other hand gently spreads him for your eyes to feast on. August's hole is puckered, untouched, and winking in anticipation. You begin to wonder why nobody has pounced him yet, but then you feel a wave of triumph wash over you. You're glad to be the first.

"You're so fucking gorgeous, Auggie." You breathe out. The smile that tugs at his lips is bright, soothing. "Yeah, you are. I'm gonna get you all prepped down here, okay? If anything is uncomfortable, tell me."

August nods. He has a basic idea of what you're going to do based on the horrible adult media he consumed prior to even telling you he was ready to try this out, but it's still nerve wracking to actually be in this position. Will it hurt? He's never pleasured himself down there aside from rubbing one out whenever he needed to. "Okay.."

Then, your face disappears between his legs. August bites down on his bottom lip as he watches you stroke and knead the skin of his inner thighs. Your fingers glide their way to his dick, wrapping around the girth and lightly squeezing. Your hands are so warm, so big. They feel good against him like this. "I- uh..I have lube, if you need it. I got some with the condoms yesterday."

"Good call." You chuckle, "Why don't you grab that for me while I get you nice and wet for me?"

"You- are so vulgar, y'know that? Serious-" August gasps, thighs closing around your head as a sudden warmth envelops his dick. "Y-y/n!" He blushes to see your lips wrapped tight around him. Your mouth is so wet, so hot. Your tongue is so skillful, pulling moan after moan from his lips. August whines, first pulling at the sheet tucked underneath the mattress. Oh, that's different.

You squeeze the circumference of his thigh in your palm, looking up at him from between his thighs and your mouth comes off of him with an obscene pop. "What happened to grabbing the lube, baby?" You tease, "Or did my vulgar mouth stop you?" You catch the bottle of clear jelly August tosses you, then pat his thigh twice. "Good boy. All you gotta do right now is give me all of you, baby. Let me make this body mine."

He nods, thighs parting once he feels comfortable again. Imagining you between his legs and actually having you there are two very different things. "I can do that.."

You pop the cap open and apply a generous amount of the cool jelly to your fingertips, then rub them together to warm it some. "I'm going to put one inside, okay? Just relax for me, baby." You wait until August nods, and his body visibly obeys before poking the tip of your middle finger at his tight rim. You gently ease it inside of August, a gasp leaving his mouth as your second knuckle pushes past his rim. "Good, baby. You're doing so good."

August covers his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes trembling as you ease your finger in past your final knuckle. It doesn't hurt like he thought it would. Maybe this won't be so bad.

~

"Y/n-" August whines, pushing at your chest. His eyes are bolted shut, lips parted as deep gasps escape from them. "You didn't tell me it- haah - was so thick."

"I know, baby, I know." You coo softly, kissing along his temple in an attempt to soothe him. "I'm sorry, baby. You gotta relax. It won't feel so good when you're tense." You kiss his cheek, then his nose, then peck his lips. "Oh, there you go. Good, just like that." You hiss through your teeth at the feeling of August unclenching his muscles around you so tight. Your dick easily slides in inch by inch, until he's clenching once more. "You're almost there, baby. Just a few more, I promise."

August can't help but moan at the feeling of nearly being full. The weight of your dick nestled deep inside of him has his head dizzy and fogged with thoughts of how good it'll all feel once he adjusts. He flutters his eyes open, and looks up at you. There's concentration knitted between your brows, and tension in your jaw. You must be trying your absolute hardest to not thrust the last few inches inside. "Put it in..please."

So, you do.

A loud moan leaves August's mouth once you're bottomed out. His thighs tremble and his hands squeeze your chest tight. His teeth are gritted together, a muffled curse leaving his mouth as his body quickly tries to adjust to the length. That was nearly equivalent to you putting the tip in. Your balls pet his plump ass, swollen with the same amount of arousal as his are. Fuck, he's tight. It feels like he's sucking you in, holding you in a vice grip.

"Y/n - haah! Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck."

You feel August pull himself up the bed slightly, "Uh uh." You chuckle, pulling him back down onto your dick. "Don't. You said I could have it, baby. You can't just go taking it away from me."

August pouts when you take his wrists and pin them above him head with one of yours. Oh. "But, y/n-!" His eyes cross when you pull out only to thrust back inside of him. It's not fast, but very deep. He lets out a sigh of pleasure, lips widening into an O as he feels you repeat the motion. He's so slow, so tender- so good.

You tuck your hand underneath his lower back, "Lift your hips just a little bit- too high. Good, right there. I've got you." The grip you have on his thigh is firm, holding him exactly where you need to in order to make him feel good. Seeing the expression on his face just now was bliss. You need to see it again. "All better, hm? Feels nice once I'm deep in there, doesn't it? Yeah, it does. I'm going to - fuck - make you feel so good. Now you like my dick. Before, it was too thick."

August shakes his head, "I-I..that's! Oh.." He can't think straight! The only thing on his mind is your dick sliding out of him once again, "Nonono, don't take it out!" He rolls his hips downward, a loud cry leaving his mouth at the depth.

"Careful now. That's a whole 'nother rodeo." You thrust back inside of August, a groan leaving your mouth now. "You gonna let me have it?"

August nods frantically, looking up at you with eyes are as shiny as the angry tip of his dick. "Uh huh! Y-you can have it, y/n, it's yours! As long as it feels this good, it's always yours.”

"Drunk on dick and I didn't even start yet." You remark, pulling out once again to run the length of your dick along his inner thigh. It's wet with a mixture of your precum, lube, and August's natural secretions. "This ass is mine?"

"Yes!" August pants, "My body is yours, I swear it." He's babbling, but you love it. When doesn't he babble?

You thrust back inside of him, a bit rougher this time. "That's right. Let me in, Auggie baby. Let me in this- ah, fuck - good boy." Winking down at him, you then begin to roll your hips against his just to ensure he's adjusting well to the stretch. It doesn't even seem to faze him anymore.

With each throbbing inch of dick inside of his pulsing hole, August calls out your name. His body quivers and arches when you reach a particular spot inside of him, causing him to bite down on his cheek since you have his hands up as to where he can't cover his mouth.

"You're moving your hips against me like you wanna fuck." You hum, running your hand up August's body and to his chin. You lean forward a tad, poking at that spot inside of him once again. Your eyes are dark, and your voice is low as you ask him, "That’s what you want?"

August nods, rolling his hips down once again. "Don't let go." He says, referring to his wrists. "I..like when you hold me like this." His breathing picks up as he ruts his hips down onto you, trying to reciprocate the pleasure you were just dealing him. It's hard, though. He just can't seem to move the way you did to bring him so much pleasure.

"Here," Your hand returns to his thigh when you catch the glimpse of frustration in his eyes. "Roll your hips like this." You guide August's hips against you slowly, watching from above. Fuck, he has no idea how sexy he is. The soft bit of flesh on his hips jiggle and recoil everytime his ass comes in contact with your lap. Though he still hasn't taken off his shirt, the soft abs peek from underneath the fabric. You'd spend all day kissing him all over if he allowed it. "There you go. That feels better, doesn't it?"

August nods, eyes fluttering closed as his throws his head back against the pillows. The muscles in his forearms tense as his back arches up into your chest. "Feels- oh! Good right there! Everytime!"

"Oh, yeah?" You smirk, plowing your hips forward. "Feels good against your prostate, that's what it is?"

A loud cry leaves August's mouth, "Mhm! I wan' you to do it! Right there - aah! - keep, mm, going right there, please- faster, aah! Y/n, d-don't...nngh.."

You grab August's thighs in your hands, bringing his legs up until his knees are at hiss ears. With a soft, and half-assed, apology, you plunge deep into his ass. The sounds are loud, wet, lewd- vulgar. The repeated haah, aah, yes's are punched from August's lungs with every one of your harsh and targeted thrusts. "Hear that ass talkin' to me, baby? Mm, someone likes getting fucked, don't they? Here I was trying to be a gentleman, but my baby wants me to fuck him, dog him out, and stretch him until it hurts to sit. That's how you like it. Yeah, that's how you fuckin' like it."

August nods to whatever it is you're saying, he can't quite hear over his pulse rushing in his ears. His position is insane. Not only can he feel everything, but he's also restricted and forced to take whatever is given to him. He likes it. "Y/n, 'm- I-I'm c - aah! I-I feelsofuckinggood. Can't take it!"

"Oh, you can take it." You hum, "If only you could see how good you look taking my dick, baby. Sucking me up so good."

August squeaks when you spit down onto his hole. There's a look in your eyes that has his stomach in knots.

"Said your body is mine, right? Yeah, let me make my fucking mark."

August squeaks when a slap is loaded against his ass. "H-hey!" He whines. When you pull out of him for something August can't quite care about, he looks down with wide and curious eyes. "Take..it off. Take the condom off. I want to feel.."

You run your hands up to his inner thighs, then back down to his ass, another slap coming from your right hand. "What, baby? Tell me what you want."

"I..wanna see what it feels like- to, get cr- I want you to cum in me! That's what I want."

You waste no time in pulling off the burdensome latex that you foolishly envy for getting the chance to feel August's walls before you did. "Kinky, I like it." You tease, earning a swat in the chest from August. "I do, baby! I like all of you, and everything you have to offer."

Your hands push August's legs up once more, and you're pushing into him raw. This time, your hips stutter at the mere feeling of his warm, soft walls pulling at your dick. "Fuck, August."

He blushes. That was hot. His abdomen tightens once more, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. His dick twitches against his thigh and his fingers dig into your forearms deep enough to leave scratches. "Y/n! I- nngh! aah! - imcuming-!"

You feel the warmth hit your skin, then watch it splatter across August's shirt. Did feeling you raw make him do that? You smash your lips against August's hands cupping his face as you pound your dick against his sensitive walls. You need him, need to feel how his walls pulse and tremble at the aftershocks of his first prostate orgasm. You need to go, go, go. He's so damned perfect. You knew it already, but fuck. Your tongue licks into his mouth, licking at his lips and tongue, swallowing up the continuous whines that he emits.

You twitch inside of his ass, dick threatening to bust off like a shotgun at any moment now. You keep going, keep fucking into August he wants it. You bite down on his bottom lip, pulling it back with your teeth, watching as he looks up at you with glossy and unfocused eyes.

"Gonna cum right inside of you, hear me? Deep in that fucking ass, claim you as mine for-fucking-ever." You bury your face in August's neck, gruffly moaning out nonsensical sentences as you pump him full of ropes of thick, sticky cum.

"Y/n! You're heavy!" August whines, yet again. He carefully brings his shaking legs down onto the bed and wraps his arms around your neck.

You capture his lips in another kiss before carefully pulling out of him, "Push."

"H-huh?"

Gently placing your hand on his lower stomach, you tell him again, "Push, baby."

August doesn't quite think he understands but he does it anyway. His face reddens when an embarrassing puff of ass emits from him, followed by what he can only describe as wetness.

"It's okay. You're just pushing out my cum baby."

"Just for that, I'm never letting you do that again." August covers his face with his hands, rolling onto his stomach to hide from your heavy gaze. "You're ridiculous!"

"But, I'm yours." You shrug, landing another slap to his ass. You tug his hips up and hold him in place before tonguing your way between his legs. "Hold still, baby. I'm far from done with you."

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whiny baby August?? 🍿

req'd by: @glorioustmnt | divider by: @uzmacchiato