SHHH! Library Rules.
college!nerd armin who sits one row behind you in a lecture and tries to focus on the slides but your thighs are just... right there. crossed, jiggling slightly as you bounce your leg out of boredom, little skirt riding up when you shiftâheâs not even hearing the professor anymore. his notes are just bullet points that say:
thighs.
thighs???
fucking thighs.
and he gets so flustered, like he adjusts his big round glasses and pretends to take notes but his face is flushed and his jeans are getting uncomfortably tight...
later that night? heâs scrolling through his phone and lands on your postâitâs a mirror pic, a seemingly innocent storyâbut youâre sitting on your bed with one leg up and he snaps. doesn't even make it to his bed. heâs jerking off in his desk chair, moaning like heâs being tortured, trying to keep quiet as he strokes himself to the thought of your thighs wrapped around his head, suffocating him.
armin doesn't believe his ears when you ask him to study. flash a sweet little smile. tilt your head just a little bit. he's halfway through chewing on his pen cap when you lean over his desk and say, âhey, armin. wanna go over notes together at the library?â
his brain short circuits.
he literally forgets how to speak for a full second. then manages a weak, breathy, âyeahâuh. yes. i mean. i can. iâd like that.â
you thank him like itâs nothing. walk away like you didnât just leave a smouldering crater in his chest. but you know exactly what youâre doing. because later that evening, you show up to the library in that skirt. the tiny pink one. and the thigh highs with the little bow at the top. like a sin made of silk and smugness.
you sit across from him. cross your legs real slow.
he swallows.
donât look. donât look. okay, you looked. fuck.
and swallows again when you lean forward, pretending to scan your textbook, the movement making your skirt ride just a little higher.
youâre no fool. youâve been aware of arminâs situation for a while now. the way he covers his boner with his notebook when you glance over during lectures? adorable. youâve caught him staring at you from across the common room at least a dozen times. and those dorm parties he claims he âhatesâ? yeah, he only ever shows up to sit beside you and pretend heâs not practically drooling at the smell of your perfume. you think itâs sweet, in a pathetic sort of way.
you decide to tease him. just to see how long heâll keep the good boy act up for. how long before that polite, bashful smile cracks into something desperate. how long before he snaps.
you shift in your seat, the toe of your boot nudging his ankle under the table. he freezes. you feign ignorance. flip a page. rest your hand on your thigh, drawing slow, idle circles with your finger against the exposed skin. then, you let your leg drift sidewaysâjust barely brushing his.
armin squirms in his chair. what do people even do in situations like this? his knuckles go white where he grips his pen. his legs squeeze together.
you donât even look up. just mumble something about not understanding the chapter. and heâs nodding too fast. offering help with a cracked voice, eyes wide, flushed down to his collarbones.
heâs shaking. heâs dying. heâs hard.
you lean in even closerâclose enough to count the individual lashes framing his eyes, pupils dilated. his breath is shaky, coming in short bursts, and you can practically feel his pulse racing.
his ocean eyes flicker down to your lips before darting back to yours, a silent invitation. his breath hitches as you inch closer, every nerve in his body firing at once. he wants this, wants you, but his mindâs a whirlwindâshould he pull back? should he stay still and let the moment breathe?
and then, you kiss him. soft at first, giving him time to adjust. he lets out a heavy sigh against your lips. he tastes like something fruityâlike strawberry flavoured gum. the kiss is sweet, subtle and tender, like a vanilla note mixed with a slight tang, like a soft citrus. but it quickly deepens, your hands roaming over his body, teasing the warm skin of his chest through his shirt. you make quick work of his buttons, slipping your hands inside, tracing the lines of his lean chest.
your fingers tweak his nipples, pulling a gasp from him. his hands immediately fly to your waist, pulling you closer. you can feel his body trembling beneath your touch, his chest heaving as he tries to steady himself.
âoh?â you smirk, getting closer, voice dripping with playful mischief. you do it again, only this time, your nails catch the fabric, teasing that soft spot until he canât keep it together. âsensitive?â
he nodsâhis face is a mess. eyes wide, like heâs been caught in the worst way possible. but then? he whimpers. you canât help but smirk at the sound, feeling the heat rising in your own chest.
your fingers tease at the hem of his shirt, touch feather-light but deliberate. his breath hitches, lips parting with a muted gasp when your nails graze the skin just above his waistband. heâs so responsiveâevery little touch draws out a sound. a whine. a strangled noise that barely makes it past his throat.
he shouldnât be this turned on from a few light touches. his thighs are tensed like heâs trying not to rut up into youâlike that would make this moment disappear. like it would scare you off. but god, itâs getting harder to stay still.
he canât fully enjoy this. not really. he feels guiltâitâs heavy in his gut. itâs wrong, right? youâre just teasing him. he doesnât deserve someone like you. but your touch, the way your leg brushes his, the way youâre looking at him like you know what youâre doing, making him lose his mindâitâs too much.
his fingers twitch. his dick aches for release, but he can'tâhe canâtâlet himself go any further. not like this. not when heâs been fantasizing about this moment for weeks. he canât just be this fucking needy. canât be this much of a mess in front of you. itâsâ
âiâŚâ his voice cracks, just as he feels his heart slam in his chest.
ââmin?â you tease, just a little too sweet, fingers tracing his thighs like you have all the time in the world.
âi have to tell you something,â he breathes out, a desperate, breathy whisper. heâs panting, struggling to hold it together. he presses his hands flat on the table, palms sweating, trying to steady himself.
you look up at him with curiosity. his heart races, and the words are choking him. he bites his lip, all at once embarrassed and unbearably turned on.
âiâiâ" he stops, gasping for air, hands shaking. "i canâtâiâve been thinking about this⌠about you.â heâs so close, so close to breaking. his voice is strained, trembling under the weight of what heâs saying. âwhen i touch myself⌠itâsâit's you, okay?â he barely manages to get the words out, feeling like his insides are liquefying under the weight of it.
you freeze, smile faltering. âdid you?â you whisper, your tone low and teasing.
âiâm sorry,â he gasps, eyes wide with guilt and the flush of shame creeping up his neck. âitâs... i didnât meanâfuck, i shouldnât have said that.â
you don't give him a chance to retreat. âno need to apologize, armin,â you say, the words dripping with something that feels like victory. âyouâre cute when youâre this honest.â
and then, itâs quietâjust long enough to hear him choke back another whimper of frustration, as if his body is already begging for more. "but donât think iâll let you off that easy, hmm?"
his hands are trembling where they clutch your waist, like heâs not even sure heâs allowed to touch you like this. you nip at his bottom lip, smile curling against his mouth when he gasps again. you straddle him so that your thighs are on each side of his, and armin thinks he could die like thisâcaged between you, drowning in your scent.
but you take it a step further. you place your knee against his sensitive bulge and he lets out the prettiest moan youâve ever heard. his hands grip at your hips harder, as if anchoring himself to reality, but you can feel the way his muscles lock in restraint. the sounds of a conversation drift from behind a nearby bookshelf, but all he can hear now is the blood rushing in his ears.
the noise nearby only adds on to your excitement. having arminâ armin whoâd ditch anybody to study for a test, armin who colour-codes his notes and panics if heâs not fifteen minutes early to each lectureâunderneath you like this? it fills you with a sense of pride knowing youâre the only one that can reduce him to nothing but a horny mess.
your thigh rocks against his twitching bulge, back and forth, slow and mean, like you're testing him. and arminâsweet, delicate arminâfalls to pieces.
his head lolls back against the chair, lips parted in a perfect âOâ, breath stuttering out in high-pitched gasps. his eyes are glassy with tears and so, so bright, like heâs staring up at heaven and not at the ceiling of a dusty library. thereâs drool slipping from the corner of his mouthâhe doesnât even notice. heâs too far gone. he looks pretty, absolutely destroyed, like his mindâs been wiped clean except for the feeling of your mouth on his nipple and your thigh grinding him down into nothing.
ânghhhâhah, i⌠i c-canât think,â he whines, voice cracking, desperate and breathless. âfeels too good, iâmâ iâm gonnaâ!â
you coo against his skin, twisting gently at his nipple with your fingertips just to hear the helpless cry he gives in return. his hips jerk again, chasing the friction like heâs forgotten how to stop. heâs babbling now, barely making sense. âplease, please, iâcanâtâfeels sâgood, iâhahhâhurtsâ!â
his hands shake on your hips, clutching like heâs drowning, and all he can do is rut against your thigh while you kiss and suck at his chest like heâs yours to ruin.
his body trembles beneath yours, and the pressure builds too quickly, too intensely. he stammers out apologies, but before he can even register it, heâs cumming, and he bites his lip hard enough to draw blood. his face flushes bright red, humiliation flooding him as he whimpers, trying to recover his breath, lost in ecstasy. but its too late. someoneâs footsteps are closer, and the sound of their voice drifts to your ears. he feels exposed, knowing the risk of someone walking in is too real, too immediate.
you dont stop rocking your thighs against his crotch, drawing out cries that feel much louder in the public area. armin begs you to stop with a weak, âplease, I canât take it, notânghâsomebodyâs gonna seeâŚâ
he thinks youâre going to let him cum again. god, heâs so close.
your thigh feel just right, your mouth is still on his chest, his hips are twitching upâand then you stop.
the friction disappears and your mouth leaves him with a soft pop, and armin lets out the whiniest noise, hands slapping over his mouth like didnâât mean to let it out.
âwhaân-no, no, pleaseââ
âthink i got enough out of todayâs lesson, yeah? canât spoil you too much, babyâyouâll get greedy.â
you run your fingers through his hair, so gentle itâs cruel.
âbut donât pout,â you coo. âiâll give you another lesson. my dorm. if you behave.â
you get up and fix your clothes, slow and casual, like you didnât just drive him to the edge of sanity. he twitches in your absence, like his body doesnât know what to do without your weight on top of him.
âiâll see you in class,â you toss over your shoulder with a wink.
and armin? armin is left thereâcompletely ruined, dripping, thighs pressed tight together for any relief, praying nobody walks around the corner and finds him like this.
