#nerd Armin

[juvianism]

geek boy!

[aquasoftware]

THANK U FOR 1K!!

Concentration?! (or not…)

Snippet | “Code red, code red, look away, Armin.”

FT | Fem!Reader ✘ Nerd!Armin A.

Desc | An essay deadline is one thing. A handsy boyfriend with zero self-control? That’s something else entirely. You’re stuck on your assignment, and Armin thinks stress relief should come first.

Cw | MDNI, 18+ college au, óraI (f receiving), fīngerīng, bréāst play/worshīp, dīrty taIk, praīse, squīrtīng, créamīng, multi ōrgàsms, beggīng, sóft dóm! Armin, servīce dóm! Armin, hint of geek! Armin too, Armin has a tongue pīercing/wears glasses, aftercare, (1) video game ref, pervarmin, established relationship, he’s obsessed, & semi proofread.

WC ➜ 4.2K | ML

18 min read & Oneshot.

“Ughhh, I fucking hate this.” You groaned sharply, pressing your hands to either side of your head and rubbed your temples aggressively, as a pout scribbled across your sleep-deprived face.

The only thing keeping you remotely sane in your god-awful mood was your boyfriend, sitting quietly in the wooden chair beside you—and the coffee he brought, now growing cold, since you’d been too focused on trying to get work done.

It read exactly nine-thirty, on the blue clock that was obnoxiously ticking, booming against the white walls.

Your essay, due at eleven fifty-nine, practically scolded you for procrastinating all day. And all you could do was stare at the empty screen, not even sure where to begin.

A few minutes passed, and you still had nothing to show for it—just a blank doc and the nagging suspicion that someone out there was actively praying for your downfall.

Next to you, Armin suddenly froze mid-solve on his Rubik’s cube. He sucked in a breath, set it down, and leaned closer.

“Told you I can just do it for you,” he said, shaking his head as he scooted his chair beside yours and rested a warm palm on your thigh. “I hate seeing you stressed like this, angel.” His voice was low, his teeth tugging at his bottom lip.

Except… you weren’t buying that one bit.

Your boyfriend was notorious for distracting you anytime you tried to study or get through assignments. “Can I come over just to be your emotional support?” always had a fifty percent chance of turning into your roommates hearing blaring moans through the wall—not that you were exactly complaining.

You folded your arms and narrowed your eyes, throwing at him, “You think you’re so slick—you just want some pussy!”

“I–I–what? You don’t gotta put it like that,” he gasped, feigning innocence like he hadn’t been plotting this the whole time.

“Maybe I just wanna help relieve my pretty girl’s stress,” he shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “Besides, it’s been a while since you had me over, y’know?”

But your eyes caught exactly where his was cemented: your chest—specifically, your hardened nipples poking through your grey tank top.

It felt like he accidentally let you tune into his thoughts for a second, “Code red, code red, look away, Armin.” playing on a loop.

Quickly pretending he hadn’t been caught red-handed, he pushed up his glasses and avoided your gaze, forcing himself to study the band posters plastered around your dorm like they suddenly became fascinating.

“Hm, I wonder why?” you muttered, forcing down a smirk, trying to sound “serious” despite the amusement bubbling in your voice.

But Armin was already onto you.

And he took that as his green light—leaning in with his next array of words.

“Let me at least massage your tits for you,” he responded eagerly, tilting your chin with his finger as he grinned. “I’m sure the brain juices’ll start flowing after that!”

For a moment, Armin studied your face—your baggy, sleep-deprived eyes catching his attention. He leaned in and pressed soft kisses to each of your eyelids, like he was gently announcing that you deserved a break.

You swore your heart melted into a huge inescapable puddle right then and there.

He pulled you closer, hands sliding up slowly, until they cupped your breasts—fingers kneading tenderly.

“Fine,” you muttered, trying to sound annoyed, “just a few minutes, and I’m getting back to—mmph!”

Your own moan cut you off as Armin rolled his thumbs over your stiff nipples, already teasing with featherlight strokes that sent a jolt right down your spine.

He kneaded your breasts like they were soft, warm dough under his fingers and he was the baker annoyingly skilled at his job. His slow, snail-like pace made one thing painfully clear, a few minutes wouldn’t be enough.

His palms pressed into the swell of them through your thin tank top, thumbs rubbing slow, teasing circles that coaxed tiny gasps from your lips.

“Fuck,” you breathed, your voice already more aroused than you meant it to be.

“See? Told you,” he smiled, confident as ever, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. “Your brain’s already working better.”

He dragged his thumbs across your nipples again, firmer this time and the friction through the flimsy fabric made your thighs shift involuntarily.

Your body was already betraying you, leaning into his hands like it’d been waiting all day for this, causing him to chuckle at your hesitant nature before.

Peeking over at your laptop, he caught the time at the bottom corner of the screen: 9:36 p.m. The perfect opportunity to be petty.

“Alrighty, a few minutes is up.” He announced retreating his hands, almost going back to his Rubik’s cube until you yanked his wrists, with a deadpan look.

“Armin, don’t piss me off. You’re not funny.” You replied in a dull tone, unimpressed by your boyfriend’s antics. As much as he loved you, he seemed to love getting on your nerves even more.

“What? I thought I’d leave you to your assignment, we agreed on a few minutes, no?”

He lightly snickered, attempting to not full on laugh, but his dimples hinted he was edging towards that route.

You glared, eyes slowly raking over him from head to toe.

“Jeez, you’re so indecisive,” he teased. “Make up your mind, baby. Ask nicely if you want me to keep going.”

Your pleading eyes softened, pouring into his blue ones.

“Babyyy, you’re being a jerk,” you whined, giving him the face of a kicked puppy.

“Yeah, yeah. What’s the magic wordssss?” he sing-songed, almost desperate to hear you beg. Just the thought of being needed had already carved an aching bulge into his jeans.

“Please, please, please—keep going. I need you so fucking bad.”

“That’s my girl,” Armin murmured against your neck, voice low and sugary. “You’ve been like this since I walked in, huh? All tense and pouty. No wonder your boobs are this sensitive.”

He pinched one nipple lightly between his fingers, making you whimper, jaw slack as he twisted just enough to make you twitch.

“Keep making those pretty little noises,” he cooed beneath your jaw, tone drizzled in silk and mischief.

“Let me take care of you, Y/n. Just relax for me…” He began to steadily lift your tank top, like this was a private show made just for him.

He groaned at the sight—like a little pervert—but you weren’t surprised. This was the same man who once shamelessly admitted to sniffing your sweaty bras.

Armin toyed with your hardened buds one last time, giving them a final pinch before trailing kisses all over your bare chest—slow, messy, and greedy—until his mouth latched onto a nipple.

“Armin, aah, fuck…” you moaned, eyes fluttering shut as your fingers tangled in his blond hair.

He knew exactly what he was doing the moment his tongue joined in—his piercing flicking your sensitive nipple while his spit traced hot circles around it. Saliva dripped down in thin, wet lines as he closed his lips around you, sucking harshly like a man possessed.

“F–feels so good, baby,” you sighed, stuttering as he gave the same treatment to your other breast.

Armin only smiled, mouth still blended into your skin, lips dragging heat across your chest while his piercing teased every tender spot. Then he let his hand trail lower, slipping down to your navy-blue panties adorned with a dainty bow.

“Fuck, I don’t get how you expect me to behave—sitting there in just a tank top and panties like that.”

You gasped the second his fingers brushed over the soaked fabric, his thumb lazily circling the damp patch right over your clit—like he already knew exactly where you needed him most.

“God, you’re so soaked, baby,” he whispered, voice steamed with awe. “Just from me playing with your tits?”

His lips curled into a smirk. “What would happen if I gave your pussy a little attention too?”

You whimpered when his fingers finally slipped past the waistband, his fingertip dragging slowly between your slick folds—like he was savoring the first touch.

“Armin—” you breathed, slightly worried about the deadline, yet your hips wriggled, already desperate for more.

“I’m not gonna be long, promise,” he declared, shushing you with a wet, sloppy kiss that left your lips tingling.

You couldn’t even argue—Armin was already lowering himself between your thighs before you could get a single protest out. You were supposed to be working on your assignment, but instead you had your legs spread open, basically inviting him in.

Your hand gripped the desk for support, chest rising as you watched him with anticipation. But then he made one critical mistake—his fingers went to the arms of his glasses, starting to slide them off.

“No!” you whisper-shouted, swatting his wrist.

“Can you keep your glasses on, please?”

You tried to keep your voice down for the sake of your roommates, but your tone made it clear—this was non-negotiable. You always made Armin wear his glasses during sex, so you weren’t sure why he was trying to act brand new now.

To which he only rolled his eyes. In a way, you were like one of his puzzles—he could solve you in seconds.

“Baby, I could definitely eat you out with blurry vision. Shit, maybe even with my eyes closed.”

Your jaw dropped, eyes wide like his words had smacked you in the face. “Oh? Someone’s cocky…”

“You just look so attractive with them on though…” you added softly, fingers threading through his chin-length hair. You massaged his scalp gently, using it as your way of convincing him—knowing full well how easy he was to win over when you got a little sweet with him.

“Fine. You’re lucky I love you,” he muttered with a grin, trailing kisses along your inner thigh. “Kinda wanted a challenge though.”

Just as he hooked a finger around your panties to pull them aside, you interrupted him.

“Wait! don’t you want me to get you a pillow or something?” you asked from your spot in the cushioned wooden chair, eyes locked on the way he knelt in front of you, already on his knees.

Armin tilted his head, raising a brow like you’d asked the dumbest question alive. “I thought you knew I don’t care if my knees hurt. Or if my jaw’s sore. Just let me please you.”

You would’ve said something else—but he shoved his glasses up and promptly buried his face in your cunt.

“Shit!” you mewled, nails faintly scratching the desk as he teased you with the tip of his tongue—soft, kitten-like brushes against your throbbing nub. Your body squirmed, thighs twitching with every pass, toes curling when Armin lifted your leg to rest on his shoulder.

“Hah—wait, Armin, that’s not fair,” you whimpered, breath shaky. His piercing kept nudging your bundle of nerves, and you knew if he kept this up, you’d cum way too fast.

He only giggled in response—a gentle, wicked sound—before spitting a heavy glob of saliva onto your aching cunt. It landed with a wet smack, so loud you wouldn’t be exaggerating to say it echoed.

Warm spit dripped slowly down your folds, making you gasp as your hole fluttered around nothing. Armin groaned like a porn star at the sight of you already so messy for him.

A string of spit bridged from your clit to his bottom lip, rubbing his thumb across it lazily while trying to catch his breath.

He’d never been high before—but off your taste? Absolutely. Every time he went down on you, it was like your sweetness intoxicated him. And right now? He was on another planet.

“You taste so fucking good,” he whined, voice hazy and low.

“Are you creamin’ on my tongue? Fuck, that’s so hot.” His words rumbled against your slit before he dove back in, the hum of his voice almost like a vibrator—except ten times better.

By now, Armin was absolutely wrecked. Glossy-eyed, chin soaked, completely obsessed with your drooling core.

His eyes drooped, half-lidded, tongue darting like he was chasing your orgasm out of you.

Armin loved your moans, but he resisted the urge to touch the boner straining in his pants. Instead, he got even more animalistic with the way he devoured your pussy—like he was starving.

He swished his head side to side, lapping you up like you were his only source of water in a desert.

Your mouth fell open, gasping, eyes fluttering as you struggled to stay present.

Armin wrapped his plump lips around your bundle of nerves and slurped pretending your core was soup, letting the piercing press into it, lugging his wet muscle back and forth. He switched for a moment, lewd noises ringing when he scattered kisses all throughout your slit.

You weren’t exactly sure how your boyfriend got so good at what he called his favorite hobby—especially considering he was basically a virgin loser when you first met.

But that’s exactly why he mentally thanked the Reddit thread with 1.2k upvotes that dubbed this move “the ultimate clit hack.”

He never actually told you that he got the piercing just for your pleasure… but you figured it out eventually, especially once it started working like a damn near cheat code.

“Armin, just like that,” you sighed, like you were stuck in a dream. Your voice was nothing but breathy encouragement as he alternated between quick, eager licks and measured, indulgent ones.

He flattened his tongue on purpose—just so the metal ball could make love to your puffy swollen bud.

You didn’t mean to rut against his face—your body just had other plans. The chair screeched across the hardwood floor as your hips rolled forward, your pearl bumping into his mouth with every desperate grind.

“Am I—” he uttered, yet was too busy gulping you up, “doing a good job?”

Armin asked, he already knew he was doing more than a good job, he was just craving to hear it from his favorite girl.

“Y-yes, yes, yes! You’re… doing s’good,” you squealed, breath hitching as his nose buried deeper into your folds like a bookworm devouring his favorite chapter.

You grabbed a fistful of golden hair, back arching violently when he plunged his wet tongue inside your hole.

That familiar tight coil began to build, inching to snap.

“Arminnn, I’m… aahh—close.” Your tank top strap slipped down your shoulder as you bucked, his face jostling with your movements. One of your legs hit the desk, making it slam against the wall—you just hoped you wouldn’t crack your expensive laptop.

“Already? I haven’t even used my fingers yet,” he mentioned, lifting his face for air, his smirk glistening with you.

“So damn mouthy,” you huffed, biting your lip before grabbing his head by his blond hair and slamming it back down into your needy cunt.

“Put that energy into making me cum.”

Armin wasn’t sure how you went from hesitant to bossy in seconds—but he knew this would be the memory he jacked off to later.

“Mmffph, that’s it—u-use me, angel,” he groaned, voice barely audible as he jammed back into your hole. You rolled your eyes back, vision going white at the way his piercing stroked your velvet walls. Your mind turned to complete mush, like someone was launching rockets inside your head.

The tension snapped like a rubber band.

Your legs shook violently, broken sobs spilling from your throat as your core gushed around his tongue—tsunamis of euphoria soaking him while he kept thrusting his muscle like overstimulation was the goal.

You couldn’t even speak to warn him. Just his name fell from your lips in ragged gasps as he licked you through the high, refusing to stop until your body finally went slack against the chair.

Your chest heaved with each breath, still wrecked from your release. For a moment, your mushy brain almost believed none of it had been real.

Eventually, fanning yourself with a shaky hand, you finally found the words.

“Whew,” you breathed. “That was… a lot.”

Armin lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe the fog off his glasses, sliding them back up with two fingers.

His face was flushed—almost appalled his frames weren’t completely flooded from how wet you were.

He peppered smug kisses along your damp thigh, voice hinted with pride as he whispered like he worshipped you, “I know, baby.”

He let you sit there, still trying to compose yourself—though you could feel the greed radiating off him. His gaze flicked to the drenched seat beneath you, a half-smile twitching at the corner of his lips.

“That’s too bad though,” he murmured, tilting your chin up and pulling you into a deep, messy kiss.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

You kissed like you were famished—like you’d been torn apart for years, despite it being only a week since you last invited him over.

His tongue snuck past your lips with practiced ease, like he could read your mind and knew you wanted to taste yourself on him.

And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t—because the moment your tongues met, long, helpless moans spilled into his mouth.

His taste, tangled with your own, spun your head so hard you could’ve fainted.

Armin swallowed the sound eagerly, pressing closer—like he wanted to float into your lungs, like kissing you was a privilege only he was allowed to fulfill.

One hand curled at the base of your neck, thumb stroking your jaw with reverence, while the other gripped your thigh with possessive heat.

The kiss grew messier—lips slick, breath shared, each gasp and whimper passed between tongues.

Your nose bumped his glasses. You parted your lips wider, letting him kiss you deeper—filthier. He groaned into your mouth, tongue coaxing yours into slow, wet laps, letting you taste exactly what he’d just done to you.

Your bracelets rattled as your fingers fisted his shirt, body arching into him like muscle memory—like you belonged there.

When he finally broke the kiss, both of you were breathless. His face was tinted a soft rose pink, bangs stuck to his sweaty forehead, as a slick string clung between your lips like a thread of want still trying to keep you attached.

Armin didn’t hesitate. He eased his slender middle finger into your soaked entrance, his palm grinding against your clit in slow, deliberate circles—slick already dripping down onto his hand.

“Oh my god…” You slapped a hand over your mouth to keep from crying out, though it was no use—your roommates were certainly going to have a little chat with you tomorrow.

“S-Still… sensitive…” you whimpered, though your hips betrayed you—rocking forward with need. One orgasm hadn’t even come close to satisfying the ache. Not with the way Armin touched you. Not with how his pianist fingers moved like they’d hypnotized you.

He showered your lower stomach in featherlight kisses, practically mocking you. “Awwh, c’monnn, you can gimme one more, right?” he murmured with a soft grunt, his finger curling as your walls clenched around him—squeezing like they never wanted to let go.

“We have plenty of time to spare.” He blinked at you slowly, teasing, blond lashes catching the light like they knew how pretty he was.

At first, his thrusts were maddeningly slow—shallow to the point of cruelty. It felt like he’d sell his kidneys before giving you that second finger, just to drag out your desperation.

Your cunt throbbed with each beat of your heart, fluttering around his teasing touch—yearning for more.

“A–armin, please…”

Your voice came out as a tiny croak. Cupping his flushed face, your fingers brushing against his drenched chin, smearing your own slick across his skin like a mark of ownership—or maybe it was the other way around.

“Yes, baby?” he asked delicately, tilting into your touch like he didn’t just have you spread wide open for him.

His voice was sweet, but his eyes burned with thirst. He adjusted his skewed glasses lazily, with a free hand, your body still trembling around him.

His middle finger paused inside you, then barely moved in slow motion like he was waiting for you to beg.

“Tell me what you need.” His palm bumped into your clit repeatedly, like he longed for your reactions. Your hips writhed, instinctively trying to chase it.

“More—your other finger.” You pleaded, needy for him.

Armin’s cock twitched in his pants at how soft you sounded, how polite your begging had become. He loved when you got like this—fucked-out and obedient, all for him.

“Mmm, so good for me.” He leaned down to kiss your thigh again, lips brushing your skin as he whispered, “You sound so pretty when you beg.”

He rewarded you instantly, sliding in the second finger with an obscene squelch that had your legs twitching around his wrist, your body jolting like it couldn’t decide whether to pull away or draw him in deeper.

Sometimes, Armin was still in disbelief that he went from being terrible at fingering to being so good you didn’t mind begging for more—loudly, without shame.

All it took was thinking of your body like one of his rhythm games, each high-pitched squeal, whimper, mewl was a “Perfect.” Or each toe curl, quiver, and back arch was a “Great.” Just like the scoring system in the game.

It was pattern based, reactive—and it quickly made sense why he’d be so fixated on playing them and getting an amazing score, project sekai prepared him for moments like these.

His fingers began to pump, slow at first, curling slightly each time he bottomed out. The heel of his palm never left your clit—it ground into you with every movement, a steady, deliberate pressure that made your thighs quake and your lips part around gasped moans.

“Woah, look at that,” he cooed, voice husky and airy, awe and cockiness tangled together. “It’s so thick today… my smart girl must’ve been really pent up, huh?”

You couldn’t remember what the essay was about—hell, you barely remembered your name—but you knew Armin had just rewritten your brain chemistry.

“Gonna cum,” you gasped. “So close!”

The wet squelch echoed every time his fingers plunged into your entrance, so eager it clung to him like it never wanted to let go.

“Yeah? Make a mess for me, baby.”

He curled his fingers just slightly and your back arched. The pressure was electric—like he pressed some hidden button inside you that made your brain stutter and seize.

“I love you so much, Armin.”

You whined, grinding down onto his hand with a desperation you couldn’t control, chasing that pressure like a woman starved.

Then he hooked his fingers just right, dragging them along your fluttering walls like he knew exactly where your sweet spot lived—had mapped it out, memorized it.

“Love you so much, f—fuck, fuck, fuck…”

You didn’t even mean to cum this fast—it just snapped. Your body clamped down around his fingers so tightly he groaned, your release soaking his palm while you moaned his name like it was the only thing tethering you to this world.

“I love you too,” he breathed, voice cracking slightly as he slowed his hand, easing his fingers from your soaked pussy with a soft, wet pop.

He kissed your temple gently, his warm palm rubbing slow circles into your thigh like he was trying to anchor you back to earth. “You okay?”

You nodded against his shoulder, eyelids fluttering shut. “Yeah, ‘m fine. Wait…” Your body jolted slightly. “Shit, it’s eleven?!”

Your hand slapped over your mouth as your eyes darted to the time glowing from your laptop screen. If the Google Doc had a face, it’d probably be staring back in quiet, judgmental horror.

“Don’t worry about it,” Armin murmured, already shifting into solution mode. “Told you I’ll do it for you.”

He pulled up the chair beside you with a wince, rubbing the soreness from his knees before sitting down.

“I don’t want you to feel like—“ You started, concern slipping into your tone, but Armin didn’t let you finish. He scooped you up effortlessly and plopped you onto his lap, facing him.

“Sit,” he said casually, pulling you close like you weighed nothing, your thighs draped over his waist.

He kissed the top of your head and reached around to scoot your chair in toward the desk. One hand rubbed soothing circles into your spine, the other already moving toward the keyboard.

His fingertips were a little wrinkly and doused with you, but he didn’t seem to care—focused only on making sure you rested.

“Shhh. Just rest. I got this,” he whispered, his voice gentle like a sleepy birdcall.

“Oh my god, are you hard?” You broke the stillness like a scratched record, suddenly very aware of the boner beneath you trying to break free.

“Uhhh, ignore that. Little Armin gets excited whenever I eat you out.” He answered, completely flustered.

The tips of his ears flushed a powder pink, like he was embarrassed even though he’d just made you cum twice.

You only giggled at him, secretly hearing wedding bells in your head.

Knowing your boyfriend got hard while eating you out only confirmed what you already suspected—he was a keeper.

He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, cracked his knuckles dramatically, and started typing up a storm, like he could finish the whole essay in ten minutes if he really wanted to.

You slumped against his chest, listening to the quiet tapping of keys. Your eyes drifted shut again, cheek resting right where his heartbeat thudded beneath his shirt.

You just hoped your professor wouldn’t notice your essay suddenly had a different writing style than usual.

Then again… maybe she’d be too impressed to care.

Divider/Boarders produced by omi-resources.

Song written by Koi’lani/@aquasoftware.

‹3 Masterlist!!

REBLOGS, COMMENTS, AND LIKES ARE HEAVILY APPRECIATED!! THANK YOU <3

A/n: First Armin fanfic on this blog, I really hope you enjoyed 😱 I saw the nerd Armin fanart and had to make something for my baby <33 + Please let me know if I should write more for aot!!

[mxchibomb]

content. mdni 18+

nerd! armin who accidentally overstimulates himself fucking you for the first time.

"a—are you s—sure?" he asked nervously despite his aggressive panting with his cock sitting against your fully unclothed cunt, red and leaking. he was enamored by the bright glistening of your soaked pussy in the light of his dorm room, his tongue jotting out to lick over his dry lips. you whispered his name eagerly, instead guiding him in with your own hand. first the tip. he whimpered halfway in, almost pulling back if it weren't for the mind numbing grip of your cunt.

 "w—wait! 'm not gonna last!" he warned, forcing his hips still. " 'm gonna cum if i go any further." he whined in embarrassment, sheets crumpled up in his hands that laid beside your head.

 "it's okay.. just let go." you reassured him sweetly, scratching down his abdomen slowly with a very light scrape of your fingernails. his body shook under exertion, pushing in slowly. wrong move. he could feel everything. every tiny crevice of your gooey walls, the wetness that covered his cock whole with every inch and finally the dip in your cervix. and he came. painting your walls white with a groan.

 it's been an hour or two since then.

 "s—so good.." he was practically shivering to get a taste of your cunt each time he pulled back out, hand wrapped around your nape and your ass arched upwards.

plap plap plap!

it echoed in the room, your calls of his name muffled by the pillow you were shoved into. stuffed with cum and continuing to be stuffed with cum. his tongue hung out his mouth like a panting dog, drool sliding down the sides of his mouth and falling to your skin. or was it his crying? you could barely tell the difference between his drool and his tears.. his glasses were fogged up and tilted to the side, lashes covered in salty droplets as they fell from his reddened face. "it hurts.. but.. hurts s—so g—good.. fucking love this pussy." he babbled, sobbing softly with the occasional hiccup and leaning down to lick a strip up your shoulder blade, the warm metal bud of his piercing rolling against your skin before he latched greedily onto your shoulder slobbering and licking up your sweat.

 his balls were so drained, tight and in pain. one more time, he promised himself. and then he'd stop. he said that the last few times, too. your cunt was just so addictive. he could fuck you for days on end if it were to be possible.

 he groaned loudly, pushing whatever he had left inside his aching balls inside of you, hips placed tightly against your backside.

he didn't bother wipe off the steam from his glasses, said glasses having slipped down to bottom of his nose. covered in sweat and eyes puffy from crying, lips red and wet. it was the hottest thing you've ever seen. he hadn't even pulled out of you yet before he opened his mouth.

 "can... can you come over tomorrow too?”

i am unhealthily obsessed with nerd armin tbh. should I make an extended version of this ? 🤔

[yvesssssssss]

Nerdmin! who knows you have a voice kink, so he leans close and whispers filth in your ear like he’s reading an academic paper. Calm, articulate, but utterly depraved. “You’re dripping down my wrist, sweetheart. That’s not very ladylike, is it?”

Nerdmin! who has a size kink and uses it against you—not with his body, but your reactions. “It’s too much?” he’ll say sweetly as he watches your cunt struggle to take his fingers. “Funny. You were begging for it just a minute ago.”

Nerdmin! who gets obsessed with overstimulation. He’ll make you come once just to “establish a baseline”—then keeps going with his tongue, fingers, vibrator, whatever he has—until you’re begging through tears. “Let me see how many times I can break you.”

Nerdmin! who switches between praise and degradation so fast it makes your head spin. “That’s my perfect girl. So smart, so obedient…” and then he’s smirking, voice low: “You’re such a fucking mess. Ruined. Sloppy. Disgusting, and still begging for more.”

Nerdmin! who uses mirror play like a study aid. He’ll fuck you from behind while forcing you to look, pushing your head forward by the jaw. “Watch yourself. That’s what I see every time I think about you. Ruined and cockdumb.”

Nerdmin! who uses breath play like he’s testing your limits—his hand wrapping lightly around your throat, not enough to panic, just enough to make your vision buzz. “You okay?” he’ll whisper, and then smirk when you nod. “Then take more.”

Nerdmin! who likes to edge you while he talks softly in your ear, one hand between your legs, the other holding a stopwatch. “You lasted one minute longer than yesterday. Good girl. Let’s see if we can beat that.”

Nerdmin! who has a corruption kink so bad it shows in his eyes. He loves how innocent you look under him—until he’s got you drooling, gagging, whispering filthy things he taught you. “See what I’ve turned you into?” he purrs. “Perfect little toy.”

Nerdmin! who makes you ride his tongue until your thighs are shaking and you can’t even sit up anymore. His arms around your waist, tongue piercing rolling nonstop against your clit while he moans under you like it’s his orgasm.

Nerdmin! who records your moans on his phone when he eats you out, labeled “Study Notes – Vol. 1,” so he can jerk off to them later when you’re not around. “You sounded so pretty, baby,” he tells you the next day. “I came twice.”

I'm so obsessed with nerdmin💔

[redbolprostate]

WHO made that mess👅👅

[brokenbach]

made him do the cat shadow trend :)

[musapylsa]

hey bbygirl wacha goin tonight 😜😜😜

[cinnasite]

nerd gone viral ( ˶°ㅁ°) !!

꩜ pairing: nerd!armin arlert x female reader

꩜ warnings: explicit content, language

꩜ word count: 3.7k

꩜ synopsis: a harmless campus interview turns your best friend into an overnight internet sensation—and suddenly, every thirsty TikTok comment feels like it’s whispering your secret.

☆ art cred: @/juvianism on instagram :3

You nearly spill your coffee all over your Political Theory textbook when you unlock your phone. Another two hundred comments on that TikTok. You know you shouldn't check—you probably watched it about a million times yesterday alone—but your fingers move before your brain can scream at you to stop.

@/bookslvt01: ok but the way he talks about virginia woolf??? NEED HIM CARNALLY @/colossalthighs: i’d let him annotate my entire body fr @/arlertmeout: he looks like he apologises before choking you

You bite your lip, half-entertained and half-horrified, scrolling through the endless comments under what was supposed to be an innocent campus interview. The video has 2.3 million views now, completely insane for something filmed outside the modest main library—the same one you find yourself in at the moment—on a random Tuesday.

"Ugh, don’t tell me. You're watching it again, aren't you?"

Your head snaps up comically quick, caught red-handed, to find Sasha sliding into the seat across from you at your usual table, eyeing your phone screen with knowing amusement. 

"What? No."

"You are! You have that weird, glazed look in your eyes. The same one you get when Professor Ackerman extends the deadline for our research papers." Sasha unwraps what appears to be her third sandwich of the day. You don't mention how it’s only twelve in the afternoon. "You know you could just talk to him about it, right? He's literally one of your best friends."

"And say what exactly?" you finally close the godforsaken app, trying to ignore how your screen time report is definitely going to be embarrassing this week. "Hey Armin, I've watched your viral video more times than I can remember and I'm having very inappropriate thoughts about your tongue piercing that I absolutely shouldn't be having about my friend?"

Sasha snickers, a piece of lettuce tumbling to the table from her mouth. "Well, when you put it like that... actually, yes. One hundred percent that."

"Sasha, I can't just—" you frown in frustration, inhaling deeply. "It's complicated."

"How is it complicated? You've had a crush on him since freshman year."

"That was different. That was before we became friends. Before I knew him." You lean back in your chair, staring at the ceiling as fond memories overwhelm you. "Back then he was just this cute, nerdy guy in my intro psych class who got excited about statistical analysis and always smelled like that vanilla body wash I love. I used to sit behind him just to watch him get all animated during discussions about cognitive behavioural theory, you know?"

Sasha merely rolls her eyes. "Jesus, and you call me demented. Well, what about now?"

"Now? Now, he's Armin. He's my friend who stays up until 3 A.M. to help me with my assignments, who brings me soup when I'm sick, who texts me the dumbest memes about historical figures," you slump forward, close to pouting. "He's the guy who spent six hours teaching me how to play that MMO he's obsessed with just because I mentioned being bored over winter break. He's..."

"He's the guy you're infatuated with," Sasha supplies helpfully.

"I'm not," you start to protest, then wisely opt to give up instead. "Okay, maybe. But that's exactly the problem. I can't risk blowing up our friendship just because some stupid interview made me realise I want to climb him like a tree."

"A tree with a tongue piercing," Sasha adds with a cheeky grin.

"Fuck’s sake, don't remind me," you let your head rest against the table. "Do you know how many times I've replayed that two-second clip where he licks his lips? It's pathetic."

"It's not pathetic, it's kind of sweet. There's a difference." Sasha takes another bite of her sandwich, her eyes evidently lighting up. "Besides, you don't know that he doesn't feel the same way. Have you seen how he looks at you during our study sessions? Boy's got it bad."

"He looks at me like a friend, Sasha. Because that's what we are."

"Believe me, friends don't look at friends the way he looked at you last Friday when you were explaining your thesis argument. I thought he was going to combust from sexual tension."

Before you can blatantly disagree, you hear an all too familiar voice behind you.

"Sexual tension about what now?"

Your stomach drops directly through the floor. You turn around carefully, and there he is—Armin Arlert, campus's newest digital sensation, standing there with that signature bemused expression he gets when he catches you and Sasha gossiping. His blonde hair is mussed like he's been running his hands through it, and he's wearing that adorable blue sweater that brings out his eyes deliciously.

"Oh, um..." You scramble for an explanation, panicking on the inside. "We were just talking about... about..."

"About how Professor Ackerman's lectures are basically academic foreplay," Sasha jumps in smoothly. "All that tension and buildup with no satisfying conclusion. I mean, hello?"

Armin laughs, the sound warm and comforting. "That's fascinatingly accurate, I’ll admit." He shifts his weight, and you only then notice he's carrying his laptop bag and what seems to be a bag of takeout. "Mind if I join you? I brought Thai food and figured you might be hungry since you've been here since—," he checks his phone, "—9 A.M., according to the text you sent complaining about how it’s criminal that the library opens so early on weekends."

Your heart does a little flip at his consideration. "You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to." He slides into the chair next to you, close enough that you can smell his cologne—a rich blend of velvety caramel and toasted cinnamon that positively makes you want to lick him all over. 

Stop. None of that, you horny bastard.

"Besides, I figured you might want to hear about the latest developments in my accidental internet fame."

Sasha perks up at once. "Hell, yeah. Have you been recognised on campus yet?"

"Five times yesterday," Armin appears to lament, pulling containers out of the bag. "Including once in the bathroom, which was... awkward, to say the least." He hands you your usual order without asking what you want. "But the weirdest part is definitely the DMs."

"DMs?" you pipe up, failing to ignore how domestic this feels what with him knowing exactly what you like. Typical, precious Armin.

"You have no idea," he opens his laptop and turns it toward you two with a nervous twitch. "I've gotten marriage proposals, offers to 'show me a good time,' and at least a hundred messages asking about my tongue piercing specifically."

Your face burns as you push away the thought that you've been mentally composing similar messages. "That's... wow."

"The worst part is, most of them are asking if I'd be interested in demonstrating its uses." He fidgets with his glasses, coming across as embarrassed but also endearing. "I had no idea that thing would cause such a reaction."

"Well, it is pretty noticeable," Sasha remarks with a meaningful peek at you. "Very... attention-grabbing."

"I guess." Armin glances at you pointedly. "What do you think? You've seen the video, right?"

The question is innocent enough, but something in his tone makes you look at him more carefully. There's an out-of-the-ordinary implication that you can't quite put your finger on. "Uh... yeah, I've seen it," you manage to croak out. Terrific. Could you get any stiffer?

"And?"

"And what?"

"What did you think?"

You stare at him blankly, trying to figure out if this is a normal friend question or if you’re incorrectly perceiving the foreign edge of curiosity behind it. "I thought... I mean, your book recommendations were really good. Very passionate."

"Passionate," he repeats, the fleeting flash of understanding across his face confirming your earlier weariness. "That's interesting."

Sasha's phone cuts through the uneasiness with its incessant buzzing, and she scans it with obviously fake surprise. "Oh no, would you look at that. I have to go... meet... someone... about... a... very real thing... I have." She begins gathering her stuff with awfully suspicious speed. "You two have fun talking about books. And passion. And tongue piercings."

"Huh? Wait. Sasha—" you squeak out, but she's already dashing out of the private study room you had booked for the both of you until late afternoon (traitor). Which leaves you alone with Armin, who's scrutinising you with an expression you can't quite read.

"Alright," he speaks after a moment, closing his laptop and leaning back in his chair. "Want to tell me what you actually thought about the video?"

"I already told you."

"No, you gave me the safe answer." He tilts his head slightly, studying you with purpose. "Come on, we've been friends for two years. I know when you're holding back."

You hastily shove some noodles in your mouth, avoiding his gaze. "I'm not holding back."

"Really? Because Sasha seemed to think you had some important opinions about it."

You make a mental note to start drafting your plan for the girl’s well-deserved comeuppance. "Sasha talks too much."

"She does," Armin agrees. "But she's usually right about things. Especially when it comes to you."

The rarely there confidence in his tone makes you look up and, when you meet his gaze, the intensity catches you off guard. "What do you want me to say?"

"Did you know," he continues conversationally, "that TikTok shows you analytics about who's viewed your videos?"

Almost instantly, your heart stops. "What?"

"Mhm. Very detailed analytics. Including multiple views from the same account." His lips quirk up in a small smile. "Want to guess how many times your account shows up in my viewer list?"

You feel heat creeping up your neck. "I don't know what you're talking about." You briefly consider denying reality, blaming a technical issue, or claiming a glitch in the matrix—but none of it sticks.

"Seventy-seven times," he announces, the metaphorical checkmate hitting you straight in the chest. "As of this morning."

Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god. He knows. "I can explain—"

"Can you?" He angles himself forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Because I've been trying to figure out why my very good friend has watched a boring thirty-second video of me talking about books seventy-seven times."

You want to run away, mouth opening and closing like a fish. "I... the algorithm is weird sometimes?"

Armin chuckles, low and warm, absent of any malice. "Try again."

"I was checking to see if the view count was going up?"

"Nope."

You're quiet for a long moment, trying to figure out how to get out of this without completely humiliating yourself. You don't suppose it's too late to jump out of a window? Ultimately, you sigh in defeat. "Okay, fine. Maybe I watched it a few times."

"A few?"

You narrow your eyes, crossing your arms in defiance at the unsolicited endless interrogation. "More than a few."

"How many more?"

You want to strangle him, and not in the sexy way. "You’re being annoying."

"Come on." His voice has dropped slightly lower, and there's something almost akin to teasing in it. "I told you about the marriage proposals. Fair's fair."

You mutter a profanity under your breath, groaning. "Fine. I watched it a lot. Happy?"

"No. We’re getting there, though. Why?"

"Why what?"

Armin’s glee sharpens into something ravenous, a flicker of desperation lurking beneath his carefree demeanour—like he’s itching for you to say exactly what he needs. "Why did you watch it seventy-seven times?"

Your lungs feel too tight, too exposed. "Because..."

"Because?"

"Because you looked really good, okay?" The words come out in a rush. "Because watching you talk about literally anything is incredibly attractive, and because that frustrating part where your tongue piercing shows has been tormenting me ever since the video came out."

The silence that follows is eerily deafening. Armin simply stares at you, and you wish the ground would swallow you whole.

"Shit," you grumble, burying your face in your hands. "I'm sorry. That was completely out of line. I know we're friends and I shouldn't have—"

"Hey. Look at me."

The way he asks convinces you to peep through your fingers, reluctant but unable to look away. His expression is attentive and focused—definitely not one of disgust.

"You think I'm attractive?" he questions softly.

"I... yes?"

He blinks, his usual calm shattered by the raw vulnerability in your voice. His fingers tremble, revealing the fierce hope inside that there’s a potential chance that someone sees him as more than the sum of his quirks.  "Even though I'm just a loser who gets excited about obscure paranormal documentaries and spends too much time playing video games?"

"Especially because of that," you admit, having never been more sure of yourself.

His answering smile is slow and devastating. "Good to know."

"Good to know?"

He hums, reaching across the table, and gently pulls your hands away from your face. "I've been wondering if you'd ever see me as more than just your friend who helps you with your homework."

Your brain, without a doubt, malfunctions. "What?"

"Did you really think I started bringing you food and staying up late just because I'm a good friend?"

The words disarm you. You’re trapped between incredulity and the dawning comprehension of what he might be suggesting. "I…"

"And did you think I learned how to play your favourite songs on guitar just because I had time to spare?"

"Y-you said you wanted to practice—"

"And I presume you thought I got this piercing because I was feeling rebellious?"

That stops you short, confusion apparent in the furrow of your brows. "You didn't?"

Armin's grin turns almost predatory. "I got it because I overheard you and Sasha talking about how cool you find them. This was back in October, after you'd been dating that guy with the lip ring."

You feel like a kettle left on the stove too long. "You... what?"

"You said, and I quote, 'There's something about tongue piercings that's beyond exciting.’ Something along the lines of how the person has to be bold enough to get it, but there's the simultaneous insinuation of what they can do with it."

"I’m going to kill myself," you gape at him in horror. "You heard all of that?"

"I was sitting right behind you in the campus coffee shop. You weren’t exactly shy about it." He shifts closer, and you can spot the hint of silver when he speaks, "I made an appointment that very afternoon."

"You got a tongue piercing because of something I said about another guy?"

"I got a tongue piercing because I wanted to be the guy you were talking about."

The confession hangs in the air between you, charged and electric. You stare at him, trying to process this complete change in everything you thought you knew about your friendship. 

"I've been trying to get your attention for months. I was starting to think I'd have to do something drastic."

In spite of being made to face terrifying revelation after revelation, you manage to stutter out a breathless laugh. "More drastic than getting a tongue piercing for me?" 

"I was considering learning to play your favourite video game."

You snort despite yourself. "You hate that game."

He shrugs casually, as if the lengths to which he would go for you knew no bounds. "I know. That's how desperate I was getting."

The atmosphere between you feels tense now, full of possibility and two years of unspoken tension. Armin traces your knuckles and the simple touch sends heat shooting up your arm.

"So," you say, trying to stay as composed as you possibly can. "What happens now?"

"Now," he starts, standing up, "you tell me what exactly you were thinking about during those seventy-seven views."

He's close enough that you have to tilt your head back to look at him, and the unwavering want in the blue of his eyes makes your breath catch. "I was thinking..." you trail off, feeling timid with his attention on you.

"You can do it. Use your words for me?" his voice has gotten rougher, huskier, and it sends delightful shivers down your spine.

"I was thinking about what it would feel like."

"What would feel like?"

"Your piercing. When you..." You gesture vaguely, cheeks burning. Armin's hand comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing across your bottom lip. "When I what?"

"When you kiss me," you whisper.

"Just kissing?" The question is loaded with underlying intentions, and you shake your head slowly.

"Tell me what else you were thinking about."

"Armin..."

"Please." The plea is hushed but insistent. "I want to know what's been going through your head."

You swallow, your throat suddenly dry as you let go of the entirety of your self-restraint. "I was thinking about what it would feel like on my body. What it would feel like when you use your mouth on me."

His pupils immediately dilate at your words. "Fuck."

"Is that... is that okay?"

Instead of verbally affirming, he leans down and kisses you. It's gentle at first, tentative, but when you react by fisting your hands in his sweater and pulling him closer, he deepens it. The first brush of his tongue against yours has you gasping, and when you feel the metal of his piercing, it sends intoxicating pleasure shooting through you.

You break apart, breathing heavily, and Armin rests his forehead against yours.

"How was that?" he asks earnestly, voice raspy.

"Good," you breathe. "Really good."

His smile is full of care but there's primal desire behind it. "And the piercing?"

"Want more of it."

He brushes his thumb across your lip again. Truth be told, it’s plain torture. "You know, we're in public right now."

Every wall you built is crumbling under the weight of him, and all you can do is let it. "I know."

"Anyone could walk by and see us."

"I know."

"And you don't care?"

You drag your hand up his thigh, stopping just shy of where he clearly wants it, "Not even a little bit."

He kisses you again, harder this time, and you can't help the soft moan that escapes when his tongue meets yours in another dance of display. The sound seems to flip a switch in him, because his hands are tangling in your hair and he's pressing you back against your chair.

"God, you have no idea how long I've wanted to do this," he murmurs against your lips.

"Tell me ‘Min."

"Since freshman year. Since that first day in psych class when you argued with Professor Smith about the ethics of behavioural modification."

You draw away just barely, shaking under the intimacy of his declaration. "That long?"

"That long." He doesn’t think twice before trailing his teeth along your jaw, and when the metal of his piercing digs into your flushed skin, you whimper needily. 

"You were so assertive, so brilliant. I was completely and utterly gone."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because you were dating that business major asshole, and then when you broke up, we became friends,” he hesitantly halts his ministrations to flutter his eyelashes at you, “I-I didn't want to ruin it." 

Good heavens, you didn’t stand a chance from the beginning.

"But then you kept looking at me like... like you wanted me too, and I started hoping..."

"I did want you. I do want you." The admission comes out whinier than intended, but you can’t bring yourself to be bothered at this point. "So much."

His hands tighten in your hair. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You’re unaware of how many minutes pass as you lose yourself in the sensation of his mouth on yours, and the way he tastes like mint and something uniquely him. You dig your nails lightly into his sides, claiming him in an act of fervent possession. His breaths mingle with yours and the world outside your tangled bodies fades until there’s nothing but lust burning between you. By the end of it, your chests rise and fall in tandem.

"We should probably get out of here," he mumbles, peeking around the library.

Craving Armin has left you dazed, vision glassy as you attempt to make sense of your surroundings. "Right. Um, your place or mine?"

He pecks your nose, full of affection, tenderly guiding you. "Mine. My roommate's gone for the weekend."

You start gathering your things with shaky hands, hyperaware of the way Armin is observing you. When you bend over to pick up your bag, you hear his sharp intake of breath.

"Something wrong?" you ask innocently.

"N-nothing," he mutters, skittishly pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

The walk to his dorm feels like it takes forever, full of stolen glances and the kind of anticipation that makes your skin feel too tight. When you reach his room, he fumbles with his keys for a moment—so fucking cute—before getting the door open.

You haven’t had a lot of time this semester to crash at his dorm—neat and organised, with anime posters on the walls and stacks of books and manga everywhere. But you barely have time to take it in before he's pressing you against the closed door, urgency lacing his actions.

This time, there's nothing apprehensive about it. His hands are everywhere—your waist, your back, squeezing your ass—and when you arch against him, he makes a low sound of approval.

"You taste so good," he shudders against you. "Everything I’ve imagined and so much more."

"You imagined this?"

"Every night for two years." His mouth moves to your neck, nibbling along your throat. "What you'd look like, what you'd sound like when I made you come."

The words send heat pooling low in your belly, prompting you to press your thighs together instinctively. "Fuck, don’t say shit like that.”

"Why not? I’ve been longing for you. All of you," he whispers, pulling back to look at you with dark, lidded eyes. "You’re not getting away until I’ve had my fill."

It would be an understatement to say that you hadn’t foreseen this when you woke up today. That you'd be spending hours with your legs over Armin's shoulders, forgetting your own name; the compassionate, stammering genius the internet drooled over. Too bad he’s not on the market. It would be a treat if his fans could see him like this—flushed and breathless, fingers gripping your hips like he’d die without you. Armin Arlert, golden boy of TikTok, practically begging to let him ruin you.

You grow dizzy at the promise in his voice. "Please."

He lets his hand trail lower, indecently tranquil, and just as you think he’ll do something reckless—he pauses, smirking wickedly.

"Want to find out what this piercing really feels like when I eat you out?"

[firstathletesuitcasepaper]

I NEED THAT.

[minxani]

nerdmin

[bloodnecoma]

Nerd armin

[virtual-bunny]

pervert! nerd armin who cannot concentrate on his classes anymore because the tiny skirts you wear are a distraction to him

pervert! nerd armin who is asked by his and your professor to tutor you because at this point with your grade you will not be able to graduate or pass the class

pervert! nerd armin who teases you and makes fun of you for being “dumb”

pervert! nerd armin who pokes your thigh with his pencil whenever you get a a question wrong or whenever you’re spacing off

pervert! nerd armin who sighs loudly and rests his chin on the palm of his hand when you take too long to answer a question

pervert! nerd armin who is confused as to why you are starting to sit next to him in clas

pervert! nerd armin who snickers whenever you get called on and he whispers the answer to you but when you say it out loud, it’s wrong

pervert! nerd armin who makes fun of you whenever you forget your homework

pervert! nerd armin who secretly takes pictures of you whenever you’re not looking to add to his “collection”

pervert! nerd armin who tells you to come study at his dorm because the library gets packed at this time of the semester

pervert! nerd armin who grins when you gasp once you come inside his dorm just to be bombarded with his room full of gooner figures, action figures, geeky posters, and a collection of comics and mangas

pervert! nerd armin who purposely directs you to the wrong answers while he tutors you and scowls at you whenever “you” get the answer wrong

pervert! nerd armin who says he’s lost hope in you, that you won’t pass the class, until you say “please help me armin! i’ll do anything!” he side eyes you with a raised eyebrow while his glasses slowly fall off his nose. “anything?”

pervert! nerd armin who has you tied up in his bed, while he has a vibarator on your clit while he makes you recite the answers for the upcoming test, turning up the setting whenever you get it wrong

“p-please a-armiiiin-!” “tut tut, how else am I supposed to make you understand the material? if i reward you then just maaaybe you will start understanding”

pervert! nerd armin who is not suprised when you come running to him showing your 98/100 test score

[yvesssssssss]

Nerdmin! who wears his glasses during sex just so he can watch you fall apart clearly. He’ll tilt them down with two fingers while eating you out, making filthy eye contact as his tongue piercing presses directly into your clit.

Nerdmin! who says things like “scientifically speaking, your body reacts best when I do this” right before he curves his fingers just right and watches you cry from overstimulation.

Nerdmin! who loves oral fixation—not just giving, but having your fingers in his mouth, his fingers in yours, and cockwarming in his throat while he reads over flashcards like it’s normal.

Nerdmin! who absolutely uses your thighs as noise-canceling headphones when he’s stressed. He’ll pull you over his face and mumble “just let me focus” like your pussy is his meditation app.

Nerdmin! who gently coaxes you into mirror play. “You look so pretty when you fall apart,” he whispers behind you, fingering you slow and deep while you’re forced to watch the fog build on the mirror glass from your own panting.

Nerdmin! who praises like a scholar but fucks like a sinner. “That’s it. Perfect response. Look at how well you’re taking it. You’re making a mess, baby. Don’t stop now.”

Nerdmin! who subtly presses his hand over your throat—not choking, just enough pressure to tilt your head back and make you whimper for him. “You can take more,” he whispers. “You want to, don’t you?”

Nerdmin! who takes notes after your first few times together. Not on paper—but mental ones. What spot made you shake. What tone of voice made you clench. What angle broke you down. He logs it all—and he uses it next time.

Nerdmin! who eats you out until your thighs are twitching, your voice hoarse, and your clit too sensitive—and only then does he pull back and ask in that same soft tone, “Should I keep going?”

Nerdmin! who takes his time licking his fingers clean after fingering you—watching your expression in silence with that innocent, slightly smug little smile.

[gulityg1rl]

oh i need that

Gooner art 🤦🏽‍♀️🤦🏽‍♀️🤦🏽‍♀️🤦🏽‍♀️🤦🏽‍♀️🤦🏽‍♀️

[nae24]

⊹ ♡Nerd Armin Imagine #2♡ ⊹

(Smut) [Master list ]

Nerdmin has me in a chokehold ngl, so here’s fic about him (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

Also I got the amazing artwork at the top from Pinterest!

. • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆. • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ °

You and Armin have been dating for about 3 months and everything’s been great although he can get pretty sassy at times but he always has the sweetest apologies.

It was the weekend and you were sitting in your dorm just finishing a college assignment. It was raining out but oddly comforting?

You were turning in your assignment when Armin called.

“[your name]?” He said.

“Uh hey what’s up?” You questioned closing your computer.

“I learn how to eat pussy” he said, that was something you didn’t think you would hear at 11am.

Let’s just say you ran to his dormitory and boy did you get surprise when he was actually good at it.

And the way he would look up at you with that smug look, he knows he was good. You were in for the evening of your life…

. • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆. • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ °

Ughhhhh he’s so fine (。┰ω┰。)

Part two anyone?

[brokenbach]

College AU Armin!!