Phone Sex - Blog Posts

Love Me Through the Phone (Bokuto x Reader) (NSFW)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: After Bokuto leaves for an away game on Valentine’s Day weekend, you’re left to handle the day’s pleasures all on your own. There’s just one little problem--nothing comes close to what Bokuto could give you. Luckily, he offers a solution, and though it’s completely out of your wheelhouse, you find yourself desperate enough to give in.

Warnings: smut, phone sex, mutual/guided masturbation, dirty talk, slight praise kink, slight dumbification, edging (if you squint), (gentle) dom!Bokuto

A/N: Happy belated Valentine’s Day! Here’s a lil gift from me to u that I’ve had stuck on my mind for a while. Yes, yes, I know, I ain’t great at writing smut, so if someone else wrote this prompt w/ Best Boi Bokuto™ uhh… *cough cough* sendittomeplsnthx. Enjoy!

Word count: 2731

        “So… what are you wearing?”

        “Jesus Christ,” you break off into a laugh, picking up the phone. 

        “Nah, nah, c’mon, I’m serious. We gotta start somewhere.”

        Still shaking your head, you lean back on the bed once more, propped up on a few pillows but otherwise completely reclined. “Fine, fine, but anything else like that and I’m gonna have to leave you to your hand.”

        “I promise, now c’mon. Tell me.”

        “Seriously?”

        “One-hundred percent.”

        You purse your lips, debating a little. You can feel how much you want it--want him--and when you shift your hips, you can almost feel it soaking uncomfortably against your clothing. He’d texted you minutes ago with a proposition after learning of your predicament last night. 

        You’d wanted him so bad, but that alone wasn’t enough. Bokuto was off at an away game, and the distance--plus it being Valentine’s Day--only made things worse. You’d tried so hard, even trying to imagine his hand in your own’s place, even his tongue. It was just not enough. 

        Though, Bokuto didn’t seem to know how to handle the situation either. 

        “Fine, fine. I’m, uh, I’m wearing that little dress you like-”

        “Yeah?”

        “-and those silk panties you almost tore that one time.”

        “Really?”

        “Fuck no. It’s a Monday--I’m wearing sweats and a tank top, and I’m pretty sure there’s at least two rats making babies in my hair.”

        “Well at least someone’s getting some.”

        “Kou!”

        “Sorry, YN!” Bokuto whines, his voice crackling through the line. “But come on! Take this seriously.” He pauses, silence flooding your room.

        “Just… let me help you.”

        Your thighs subconsciously clench at the tone. It’s so familiar it’s like they’re preparing to be spread apart. 

        The place between your thighs is soaked by now, far more stirred than you’re letting on. The fact that your voice is still steady surprises even you at this point. 

        “You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

        “Don’t be, baby. Just lay back for me, will you?”

        “Okay.” Gnawing at your cheek, you make the choice to place Bokuto on speaker, setting him down just beside your shoulder so you can hear his every word. At this point, you’re on your back, head lain on a pillow and hands dancing along the strings of your sweats.

        “Comfy?”

        “Yeah.”

        “Good.” There’s a few shuffles over the phone, and when Bokuto’s voice returns he sounds a little out of breath, a little strained. “Good. Okay.”

        “Okay,” you nervously parrot, not really sure what else to do with yourself. Slowly, you’re beginning to gather that neither of you have done this before. Despite Bokuto sounding so confident earlier, he now seems reduced to the same anxious, aroused mess that you are. 

        “All right, now just…just follow my lead, okay?” 

        “Mhmm.”

        “I want you to go slow, no matter what I tell you. Don’t speed up until I say.” His orders, simply the thought of their implications, leave your fingers twitching closer to your arousal. The need to touch yourself was beginning to leave a yearning that ran rampant through your veins. A single spark filled your stomach with heat. 

        “Okay.”

        “Good,” he exhaled. “Now touch yourself.”

        You almost choked on your spit. “Wh-uh, I mean,” your gaze traced along the ceiling frantically, desperately trying to distract yourself from the burning in your cheeks. “Like, where?” 

        Your question had slipped out without a second thought, and when Bokuto chuckled, the flush spread to your chest. 

        “Maybe you’re right,” he pondered. “Let’s go slower than that.” A huff, then his voice returned, excited. “All right, I got it. Think of me, all right?”

        “Kou, I already tried that.”

        “I know, baby, I know. But now you can actually hear me, and you don’t have to imagine a thing. Leave it to me.”

        You were grateful he accepted your timid silence as approval. 

        “Okay, so… think of me touching you, right? Like I’m right there in front of you, baby, and I’m just running my hands all over you-”

        “Kou?” you cut him off, blindly picking at your fingernails. 

        “What’s up? You wanna stop?”

        “Can you touch yourself too?” And it’s when he falls silent that you realize how awkward that sounded. “Ah shit, I-I mean, like, I just kinda felt awkward doing it alone and like I felt like if you were doing it too I’d feel better about it and-”

        “God, YN, you thought I wasn’t doing that already?”

        “What?” 

        He scoffs, and shame begins to sour your anticipation. 

        “The second you said you were touching yourself to the thought of me, babe, I was at it. You seriously thought I was gonna sit here and just let you play with yourself while I’m over here just listening?”

        “I mean, a little…”

        “Shit, YN. I let you tie me up once and suddenly you think I like being blue-balled.”

        “Well…”

        “It was one time!”

        “Whatever, Kou! Can we just…get back to what we were doing?”

        “Fine, fine. But we’re discussing this later.”

        “Okay, okay. Just get on with it, will you? Please, Kou, I…” you pause, body once more growing aware of the situation between your legs. “I need your help.”

        “I know, babe.” Bokuto gulps, taking a second to relax himself once more. You’re busying yourself with fiddling with the bottom of your tank top now, tempted to just lift off the damned thing along with the rest of your clothes. 

        But you’re a little curious if Bokuto would mind that.

        “All right, sweetheart. Like I said, follow my lead.”

        You hum. 

        “I want you to imagine me there, right on top of you, baby. Think of how I’d push your shirt up, how I’d run my hands up your sides. Do that to yourself for me, will you, sweetheart?”

        You listen and copy his words, running your hands underneath the cotton hem and brushing your fingertips along your hips, just as Bokuto had done so many times. 

        Well, it wasn’t perfect. But his voice certainly helped. 

        “Go up higher, baby. I want you to hold those pretty tits of yours.

        “God, I can almost feel ‘em in my hands. So soft, always wanna keep my hands there. So fuckin’ pretty.”

        “Kou…” You do as he asks, but it’s not enough. You want more, now.

        “I know, I know. But remember, sweetheart, I said we’re taking things slow tonight.”

        “But-”

        “Now touch yourself. Imagine my hands playing with those cute little nipples of yours, baby. Make ‘em all tight and perky for me.” Hesitantly, you follow his lead. Your fingers draw circles, tug and caress like how you remember he would after long days. How his hands would yank off your shirt before palming and squeezing and stroking. Some days he was really mean, and your hips shifted at the thought of the dark marks he would leave scattered along your chest. 

        “Feel good?” His voice is breathless, and you’re a little uncertain of whether that means your soft moans had somehow passed through the phone line despite how much you’d suppressed them. Though, Bokuto did like you loud. 

        “So good,” you pant, hands still toying almost torturously. “But I want more, Kou, please.”

        “Fuck, baby, I ever tell you how cute you are when you beg?”

        “Kou…”

        “Fine, fine. But you know I’d play with your pretty tits longer than that. From now on, let’s go at my pace.”

        Fuck. You knew Bokuto had a pace, but when it came to nights like these, it was slower than you’d expect. Though most nights Bokuto jumped you and kept at it like a rabbit, there were just some days where he dragged things out, usually just to hear you beg for him. An ego boost, or whatever. Like he needed it. 

        “Slowly, sweetheart, bring your hands down to your thighs and spread ‘em, nice and gentle--you know how I’d peel ‘em apart.” He broke off into a grunt. “And t-then stroke the insides of your thighs, baby.”

        “Kou?”

        “What’s up?”

        “Do,” you clench your jaw, telling yourself to get over the embarrassment by now. “-Do you want me to take my clothes off?”

        “Fuck, you still have any on? Why?”

        “Oh.” You took that as a cue to tear off your tank top and sweatpants, a little ashamed by the eagerness with which you did it. That feeling only grew when you squirmed out of your panties, catching a glimpse of the glistening stain left on them. 

        An idea hit you, and though you knew it would only make you flush more, you wanted to hear his reaction.

        “Kou?”

        “Are they off?”

        “My panties are soaked.” 

        The reaction was instant. 

        “Jesus–fuck,” Bokuto hissed under his breath. You heard something akin to skin on skin as his cursing hitched, and a strangled groan filled your ears. 

        “Fucking tease,” he rasped when he finally seemed to stop himself from going too far. There was a tension in his voice that warned you he wanted revenge. “Put both hands on that wet little pussy, sweetheart. For that, I wanna hear it.”

        Finally. The second your dominant hand made contact with your swollen clit, your hips jerked up without volition. “Sh-it.”

        “Nu-uh, YN. Keep them there. Two inside, one on your clit. Nice and slow.”

        It was hard to keep a steady, controlled pace. Your hips kept bucking, your back kept arching, and the two fingers Bokuto had ordered deep inside you weren’t reaching that little spot he seemed to have memorized like the back of his hand. 

        The lone index finger you kept circling your clit wasn’t doing your sanity any favors. The muscles of your thighs began to tremble in sheer desire of some actual force, a little muscle behind the action. 

        “YN,” Bokuto’s tone was low, warning. The second you’d sped up your hands to meet your needs, Bokuto could hear your closed-mouth whimpers growing higher. 

        “Kou, please.”

        “Hands off, baby. Completely.”

        “Wha…” you opened your mouth in protest, reluctantly pulling two soaked fingers out of your weeping hole and forcing your hand away from your clit. 

        “I told you to listen, baby. And now that’s all you get to do.”

        “Kou, what-”

        “Ahh, shit.” You slam your mouth shut, biting your lip at the delicious moans echoing through the phone. “Fuck, so good.”

        Bokuto’s strained groans come quick and in between pants. You’re positive there’s a sheen of sweat covering his forehead now, his arm flexed and taut as he strokes himself. 

        “YN, baby. ‘F-Feels so good.”

        “Kou,” you plead, gaze a little unfocused as you listen to his moans while forcing your hands to stay at your sides. You feel yourself twitching, clenching around nothing. 

        “Fuck, wish I was inside you right now.” Throaty moans now filter through the crackling line, so loud you wonder if the neighboring apartment can hear--not that they shouldn’t be used to it by now. “You’re always so fucking tight, sweetheart. Always so wet and tight on my cock.”

        “Kou please, let me-”

        “Hold on. Just a little more, baby--fffuck. Know you wanna touch yourself. Spread your legs for me, but don’t touch.”

        You peel your knees apart once more, frustrated to no longer have any friction to work with. Your hips roll desperately, but it accomplishes nothing but making you more desperate. You can feel your arousal dripping down, now, soaking into the sheets. 

        “You remember before I left, sweetheart? Remember how I fucked your pretty little brains out? Never seen you like that before, so pretty and crying over how good my cock felt inside you.”

        “Yes, Kou, yes! Please, just let me-”

        “Said you couldn’t walk the next day. Said I fucked you so good you couldn’t feel your legs, baby. You feel ‘em now? All spread apart and just fucking shaking? If I fucked you right now, sweetheart, you think you could even think straight?”

        “No, Kou, fuck I need you so bad.” You threw an arm over your eyes, the other digging into the sheets as you waited and waited for permission. 

        “You only got your fingers, and you can’t even use ‘em. All you got is me, the thought of me fucking into you, turning your pretty little brain into mush. Making you feel so good all you can do is cry. Baby, I still got those scratch marks on my back.”

        “Kou-”

        “Just a few more days, sweetheart, and I’ll have you making new ones. For now though, I suppose I could let you play with yourself.”

        You almost cried out in relief, hands darting down to your aching, sopping hole, feeling as it drenched each fingertip with ease. 

        “Three fingers inside. I know you can take it. Pretend it’s me warming you up for my cock, baby, stretching you out and having you dripping all over my fucking hand.”

        He’s right, it is a stretch, and you almost whimper when you press your fingers up and against the little pleasure center deep inside you, fingertips just barely brushing. 

        “Your little clit hurts so good, doesn’t it, baby? You’re being so mean to it aren’t you, rubbing hard circles into it.”

        He pauses, breaking off into a drawn-out groan of your name. 

        “I don’t care. Go faster.”

        And you do, and he’s right, and you just can’t bring yourself to care as you press harsh patterns into your clit, struggling to pump your fingers at the same time without losing pace completely and frustrating yourself. 

        “That’s it. Say my name, baby. Scream my name while you play with yourself. Couldn’t do that by yourself, could you?”

        “Kou--fuck!” You clench your eyes shut, arching your back harder as you speed up your desperate ministrations. Heat gathers at your clit from the friction, and your slick is practically gushing now, loud and pornographic.

        Bokuto certainly got what he wished--there was no way he couldn’t hear how wet you were. 

        “You can only touch yourself with my help, can’t you? So fucking good to me, baby. So pretty playing with your tight little hole like that. Dirty little thing.”

        “God, fffuck,” you whimper, back arching when your gushing finally reaches its peak. 

        “You coming?”

        “Y-es!”

        “I wanna hear who made you feel this good. Who made you play with your own little pussy so good, baby?”

        “Kou! Yes, Kou!”

        “Good girl. Good fucking girl.” Bokuto moans one last time, loud and guttural, and the slick of your fingers brushing and kneading your clit becomes too much. Your legs, spread wide and strained, shake with the effort as your back arches against the pillows behind you, head tossed back and mouth open in a silent gasp. 

        Bokuto soothes you on your way down, small “I love yous” and “so good for mes” traveling over the line. When your body finally stops twitching, you lean over and snag your phone, turning it off speaker and pressing it to your ear. 

        “Thank you, Kou,” you hum softly, lethargic and exhausted. “That was so much better than last night’s shit show.”

        “I’m so relieved, baby.” He pauses, humming. “And glad to know you can’t seem to come without me.”

        “Yeah, well, good thing you’re coming back soon. This was good, but…” You sit up, staring at his side of the bed, a little unkempt from you rolling over to it in your sleep night after night. “I wish you were here.”

        “I know, baby. I wish you were with me too.”

        “It’s so lonely without you.”

        “I know. I miss you.”

        “Plus I finally found out where you hid those handcuffs after that night.”

        “Goddamnit, YN, just throw those fucking things out! I’m not getting blue-balled again!”

Ruin the Friendship - S.O.S.

(Chapter 1 / 3)

Armin x Reader x Eren

Word Count: 4.0k

Warnings: mutual masturbation, phone sex

Summary: Reader is horny and desperate and her normal sneaky link is not picking up his phone. She almost gave up, but right when she decided to go to bed unsatisfied - a beautiful call came through from her personal superhero. Armin was not her first choice and she had never seen him in such a sexual light, but damn, how quickly that would all change. Maybe Eren finally has a worthy opponent in the competition of Reader's heart - or rather the competition of what's between her legs.

Notes: I posted this on my Ao3 first, but I thought I’d post it here too. So, please enjoy!

The ringing seemed to be echoing throughout the entire room. With each second of the unanswered call, you felt your heart rate accelerate in your chest. Your confidence was slowly dissipating from your body as you waited for the boy on the other end of the phone to finally answer the waiting call.

But, nothing.

At least the ringing stopped, but now the echoes of Eren’s voicemail message was vibrating throughout the entire room. You’re sure he’s not sorry he missed the call, and you were even more sure he wouldn’t give you a call back later. Now, he asked you to leave a voicemail for him.

What would you say in the voicemail if you had the confidence to leave one? Would you tell him the truth of why you were calling him at 11 PM on a Saturday night? How would that even sound?

Hey, Eren. Uh, it’s me again. Just ignore the other missed calls, I’m just super lonely. And, I tried texting you, but I’m assuming you’re with another girl or you’re at another frat party tonight. Anyways, I just thought I should let you know that my vibrator broke and now I’m horny and too drunk to go buy a new one. Honestly, if you have the time, please just come by my apartment and blow my back out. Thanks. Call me back later. ‘Cya.

He would get that damn message printed out and framed if you ever left that voicemail for him. He would never let you forget the desperation and neediness in your voice with each word you left for him. He would play it on repeat every night when he was by himself and just as horny, thinking to himself about how good he makes you feel.

If you left that voicemail for him, you would definitely lose the game. The game of sleeping with each other until the other confesses that they have real feelings for the other. He would take your words as your secret love confession for him, and he would win. You couldn’t let that happen, even if it killed you.

You ended the call before the beep, denying yourself the embarrassment of leaving a needy voicemail. You looked at your phone, scrolling through your endless contacts of other people who would drop everything to come over and fuck you. But, no matter what name your mind decided on, they all couldn’t compare to Eren. That was the only downside of having the best sex of your life with one person, because then you’ve peaked and there’s no longer the option of going back to anyone else.

You slammed your phone into the couch cushion beside you and grabbed the remote from the coffee table. You skipped through movies in one hand and brought the entire wine bottle to your mouth with the other. Getting wine drunk was fine on a Saturday night, as long as it wasn’t getting in the way of your education. Because, honestly, you could be way worse.

Your phone vibrated beside you, and you nearly dropped the glass bottle in excitement. You grabbed your phone and took in the sight of the caller on your lockscreen.

Armin.

He wasn’t exactly who you were hoping for, but he wasn’t the worst choice.

“Hey,” You sang the word out, trying to hide the obvious slur to your words.

“Hi,” Armin said shortly, “Are you drunk?”

Of course, Armin couldn’t be fooled, no matter how smart you thought the plan was.

“No,” You lied.

“Are you lying?” You could hear Armin’s smirk with his words.

“No,” You lied again.

“You’re so drunk.” Armin laughed, and you were glad he found amusement and not annoyance in your state.

“Sorry,” You said slowly, “I’m just bored and lonely and the wine bottle was calling my name.”

Armin smiled, “I think it was saying, please don’t drink me. Your friend is going to call you later about the group assignment and it would suck if you were drunk.”

Your head hurt from realization, and you furrowed your eyebrows in pain. You forgot about Armin scheduling tonight for time to work on the group assignment for Psych 101. In your defense, he had told you about it on Monday, and never reminded you throughout the week.

“Oh my god,” You said, disappointment obvious in your voice, “I’m so sorry, I forgot about that. I would have ignored the luring song of the wine if I remembered.”

“It’s fine,” Armin said, “Are you sober enough that we can still work on it?”

You shrugged, “Yeah, I’m good.”

Armin began to tangent, and you couldn’t help but drift off mentally. He went on and on about Piaget and Freud and whoever else came to his mind in his rant. You were hardly paying attention, it was like purely listening to a psychology lecture - the one thing more boring than being in psychology class.

“So,” Armin finally ended his rant, “You agree?”

“Uh,” You said as you looked into the wine bottle, assessing how much was left, “Sure.”

Armin perched his eyebrows, “I also think we should smother all children with pillows, do you agree with that as well?”

You took a quick swig and said, “Uh-huh.”

“Pay attention to me,” Armin whined from the other end of the phone, “This is important. It’s 15% of our final grade.”

You rolled your eyes and threw your body back on the couch in annoyance. You didn’t answer Armin’s call because you wanted to talk about boring old men. Instead, you answered his call in the small hope of possibly solving your main problem at the time.

You turned on your side and sat in a fetus position, “Can we just talk about this tomorrow?”

Armin sighed, “You said you weren’t too drunk to work on this assignment right now.”

“Let’s just work on this tomorrow,” You bargained, “You can come over to my apartment and we can stay up until 2 AM working on it.”

“Just don’t be drunk tomorrow, okay?”

You rolled your eyes, “The problem is hardly that I’m drunk.”

Armin was now intrigued, “What do you mean?”

You didn’t want to get into it with him, even though that was the main reason you answered the phone. You didn’t want to ruin the innocence that hung around this boy by being too blunt. Whether or not he was all that innocent, you were unsure. But, he just reminded you of a small Catholic boy who didn’t know women had different genitals than himself for all twenty years of his life.

The more you talked with the boy, the more you hated that initial desire in you. The desire that convinced you to answer the phone and hope for a satisfying conversation. The same desire that almost hoped he would come over tomorrow so you could teach him about a woman’s genitals. It was the same desire that kept you on the phone with him right now.

“Well,” You said, “I tried calling Eren, but he wouldn’t answer.”

He knew the implication of your words, the entire group knew the implication of those words. You and Eren weren’t sly, and you especially weren’t shy around the topic. Eren had talked to all of his friends about you, and you talked to all of your friends about him. So, Armin heard both sides of the story of you and Eren.

“Oh,” Armin said shortly, “I think he went back home this weekend, so that makes sense why he didn’t answer. I wouldn’t take it personally if I were you.”

“He never told me that.” You brought the wine bottle back to your lips and took another swig. “He left yesterday?”

“Yeah, right after his last class of the day.”

You nodded and took longer gulps of the wine out of a sudden new wave of sadness. You didn’t mind Eren leaving, that’s not why you were upset. You hated that he didn’t tell you, that he felt like he couldn’t trust you. You just hated the idea of ruining your friendship with the boy because he’d seen you naked frequently. And, you supposed that that was the only downside to sleeping with your best friend.

“Well,” You said, putting the wine bottom on the table and out of reach, “Now, I’m really screwed.” You smiled to yourself. “Or, I guess I’m not screwed and that’s the problem.”

Armin giggled awkwardly on the other end of the phone, “Why don’t you just - you know?”

“I don’t think I do know.” You smiled mischievously at the coffee table. “Why don’t I just what?”

Armin sighed, “Masturbate.”

“Is that a demand?” You couldn’t hide the seduction in your voice.

“No, no, no,” Armin said quickly and you could nearly hear how his cheeks flushed, “I was just asking, genuinely, why don’t you masturbate?”

“My vibrator broke.” You glanced angrily at the bright pink bullet on the coffee table. “And, every time I watch porn and only use my fingers, I can’t orgasm. It’s like I need to feel something real, and porn just seems too fake.”

Armin nodded silently as your words flooded over him. He couldn’t help the uncomfortability he felt in his pants to your blunt explanation. You normally told him about your sexual adventures that already happened, not sexual problems that he could easily solve. He’s always been a people-pleaser, so of course he’s going to want to help you in your time of need.

“Mhm,” He said quietly, thinking of ways to help you without being blunt himself.

“Sorry,” You said, “I shouldn’t have told you all of that. I know how weird you get when people talk about sex.”

“I don’t get weird!” His voice is quickly defensive, it’s adorable.

You grinned, “You’re doing it right now.”

“No, I’m not.” Armin shifts uncomfortably on his bed.

“Are you a virgin?” The question came out before you could stop it. It was something you had always wondered about him, and the wine in your bloodstream was acting as your liquid courage.

“I don’t wanna talk about this,” Armin said timidly.

“So, you are-”

“I’m not!”

“You’re not?” You knew the answer to the question was either yes or no, but for some reason, you weren’t expecting no.

Armin sighed, “I’ve had sex before.”

You grinned evilly, “Your hand doesn’t count.”

“I’ve had sex with more than just my hand.” The hints of emotions in his voice was complex, it was the perfect mix of annoyance yet arousal.

You moved back up on the couch, sitting on your knees and pushing your legs together. You had had plenty of cat-and-mouse games with Eren, but this was the first time you were the cat. You liked teasing Armin and feeling a certain power in the situation.

“Do you watch porn?” You asked, your voice attempting uninterest.

“Sometimes,” Armin answers slowly.

“What do you mean by sometimes?” You pushed your thighs even closer together.

Armin shifted some more on his bed, “Sometimes, I just use my imagination.”

You smirked into the phone, your heart racing, “What do you like to imagine?”

“Just, stuff.” His voice may have sounded closed off, but you could hear the tint of teasing in his words. Like he was a siren luring you forward with his song.

And, you couldn’t help but take the bait.

“What kind of stuff?”

“People,” Armin said after a moment of contemplation, “Doing things.”

“Well,” You said with a grin, “Aren’t you the King of Discretion?”

Armin breathed a chuckle through the phone, “I’m not trying to be. I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Oh, you won’t.” You traced your fingers back and forth against your bare thigh. “Do you ever think of me?”

You could almost hear the shattering of Armin’s composure. For every moment he was silent, you felt a mix of regret and curiosity. You regretted asking the question so quickly, but you felt curious about his answer nonetheless. So, you stayed on the phone instead of running from your mistakes.

Armin closed his eyes, “Sometimes.”

Your regret dissipated with that one word, “What do I do in your fantasies?”

“Things,” He started but after you stayed quiet, he continued, “Do you really want me to answer that question?”

You smiled, “Yes, and don’t be discreet.”

Silence settled between you and Armin on the phone. You knew this was a rather large step to take in your friendship, and after tonight, it could be ruined forever. But, you didn’t mind ruining this friendship if he didn’t mind as well.

Armin closed his eyes in order to properly see the memories of his fantasies. He imagined a lot of different things, specifically with you. You’d always been so open with him about your sexuality and sex in general. That’s something he’s always noticed and he’s always been comfortable with you because of it.

“Well,” Armin said, relaying the information of his fantasies, “I imagine sitting with you on your bed. We’re usually working on homework of some kind, but the homework gets boring. You put your hand on my thigh and when I look up at you, you’re grinning at me.”

“Mhm,” You said as your fingers slipped under your sleep shorts. Your fingertips brushed delicately over your heartbeat from in between your legs. You tried to get more information from the boy, “Are these fantasies always so innocent?”

Armin’s cheeks flushed as his hand came up to his growing erection. He couldn’t help his physical interest in the conversation considering the seduction in your voice. He wondered if you always sounded like this towards him, or the hints of seduction he was picking up on was new.

“No,” Armin says shortly, “They usually start innocently, though.”

“Well.” You grinned to yourself. “Aren’t you a romantic?”

Armin breathed out a laugh, “Do you want me to continue?”

You nodded your head, “Definitely.”

Armin took a deep breath before continuing, “After you grin at me, we start kissing. Our kissing only progresses until you’re sitting on top of me on the bed and I’m looking up at you. And, you lean down and whisper in my ear some sweet nothings-”

“Like what?” You asked quickly, “What do I say?”

“Just, things.”

You traced your fingers across the slick that had soaked through the fabric of your panties, “What kind of sick things do I call you in your head? Do I call you daddy?”

Armin’s thigh twitched at the sound of that nickname. You had never called him that before in his head, but he made sure to keep it in mind for next time. He made sure to remember the exact way you said the word, like it rolled itself up from where it was hiding down your throat.

“Well, no.” Armin shifted his hips into the sad empty air. “You normally call me sir.”

Your eyebrows rose at that, “Oh, really? You like being in control?”

“I like being wanted.” There’s a moment of silence. “And, being in control makes me feel wanted.”

“Do I make you feel wanted?” Armin didn’t answer, he instead shifted again on his bed. “Do you want me to make you feel wanted?”

His voice came out as a weak whisper, “You can.”

Hearing his desperation for something as mundane as your voice was arousing. It was something he heard on a day-to-day basis, something others couldn’t recognize in a dark room. But, it was all Armin needed to be turned on. You wondered inwardly how many times your voice itself had turned him on before.

You wondered how many times you had been with Armin, whether with others or not, and he found himself getting aroused by your voice. You wondered how many times you had asked him how his day was, or even called him by an endearing nickname and he found himself getting uncomfortably hard in his pants.

“‘Can do what, sir?” Your seductive voice echoed through the phone and Armin groaned deep in his throat from the nickname. He had imagined the sexual scenario loads of times, he had imagined you whispering that one word sensually in his ear loads of times. But, nothing prepared him for the sound of it being real.

“Make me feel wanted.” Armin palmed himself through his sweats.

You were unsure why you were keeping up with this teasing game, but you knew you were going to end it quite soon. It wasn’t your fault you just couldn’t hold out much longer.

“And, why should I?” You whispered the question through the phone, needing his desperation.

“Because I want you,” Armin’s voice cracked with the words, “I want you so bad, it hurts.”

It was all you needed to hear. You pushed your fingers into your opened entrance, moaning loud enough for Armin to hear through the phone. He knew what you were doing, what you were leading him towards, and he couldn’t hold back much longer.

You heard his whiny moans in your ear as he touched himself now under the fabric of his sweats. He pumped his cock at the same rate that you pushed your fingers in and out of your entrance, using the collected slick from the conversation. To feed even farther into this fantasy of his, in order to show Armin how badly you needed him, you knew you had to become submissive.

“Armin,” You moaned, “I wish you were here.”

“Why?” His voice came out sterner than you were expecting, the switch of power dynamics causing a surge of confidence within him.

“I want you in me. I want your big cock to fill me up.”

Armin groaned as he stroked his cock, imagining his hand were yours instead. He could hear every moan you let escape your mouth, and he could hear the lewd noises from the squelching of your pussy. He imagined how your fingers stroked in and out of yourself, thinking of him as he was thinking of you. He had imagined you loads of times, but never have you imagined him back.

You let your head fall back onto the back of the couch, the phone pressed so close to your ear that it dully hurt. You didn’t want to miss a single moan, a single body shift, and a single hitch in the breaths that Armin took into the phone. Every single sound through the phone opened up your mind’s eye for what Armin looked like on the other side.

Your phone vibrated against your cheek, but you barely felt it being so deep in the moment. You could hear little whines from Armin’s side of the call, each of his breaths being a desperate moan of you feel so good and oh my god. You felt your stomach growing tight from the pressure of your climax and his whines only made the pressure grow tighter.

“Armin,” You breathed through the phone, “Are you close?”

He nodded, “Yes, yes-” He groaned- “I’m gonna-”

“Do it,” You said sternly, “And say my name while you do.”

Armin nodded some more, quickly stroking himself to climax. He liked being in control in his fantasies, but in reality, he liked the blatant control you took over him. It was against everything he thought he knew about himself, but he couldn’t think of anything sexier.

Armin came in one long groan of your name, ejaculating on the inside fabric of his boxers and sweats. The sound was sweet and drawn out, dripping with satisfaction. It sounded genuine and real, exactly what you needed.

You felt yourself clench around your fingers before releasing on your hand as you called out for Armin one last time. The slick ran down your hand, on your fingers, palm, and down your wrist. You brought your hand from your sleep shorts, quickly wiping the wetness on your t-shirt. It was gross, sure, but it was your shirt and you were home alone and damn it, you could just take the shirt off and wash it in a few minutes.

There was a new silence settling between you and Armin on the call. You could hear him still breathing heavily, and you sounded the exact same. You just looked around your living room, wanting to say something, but not wanting it to be awkward.

“So,” You said after a long moment of heavy breathing, “Thank you.”

“Yeah.” Armin closed his eyes from embarrassment. “You’re welcome and uh- thank you too. And-and, I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

You grinned, “Yeah, you can come to my apartment and we’ll work on our project.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah.”

Armin took a quick breath, “Goodbye?”

“Bye.”

“Oh, and-” Armin started, but was quickly cut off by the sound of the call ending. He had ended the whole experience so well, you didn’t want to give him the chance to ruin that. You didn’t want to give him the time to be stupid and vulnerable and emotionally needy.

You weren’t doing this for a boyfriend, you were doing this for an orgasm.

You locked your phone and left it on the couch as you walked back to your room. Your fingers had fucked the sobriety back into you, and your head now pounded from dehydration. You walked around your bedroom, grabbing a towel, new shirt, new shorts, and a new pair of panties and then headed off towards the shower.

You showered, washing yourself of the wetness between your thighs and the memories of Armin’s moans from your mind. They repeated themselves in your head, each whine more desperate than the last. Just the memories of his whiny voice calling out for you made your core throb between your legs until you forced the memories deep, deep down.

After the shower, you changed into your clean clothes and headed back to the living room. You sat down in the same spot you had orgasmed only half an hour ago. You grabbed your phone, thinking of the slight vibration against your cheek in the peak of the call with Armin.

You checked your unread notifications. You saw a waiting text message from Eren and you felt your stomach tense with nerves. It wasn’t cheating - you weren’t dating Eren - but it did make you feel weird having phone sex with his best friend. You had wanted Eren, thinking nothing was better than him, but you found his desperate best friend and went with that route instead.

Eren’s text message read, You called?

You texted back, I don’t need you anymore.

Your message came off as passive aggressive. It was a certain dominance you never had with Eren, but the same dominance that came out in your conversation with Armin. It was strange how quickly you could mold yourself to become what your partner wanted or was used to.

Eren answered a minute later, Oh, really?

You smiled at your screen as you responded, You’ve been replaced, sorry.

The message was read immediately, but a response never came through. Eren left your conversation, ignoring you had said anything at all. It wasn’t like Eren to be easily upset or jealous, so you were sure he only got busy and couldn’t respond at the moment.

You turned away from your phone, looking around the small living room. Armin was coming over here tomorrow, for sure - unless he bailed at the last minute which wasn’t like him. You wondered if you should clean the apartment for him.

What were you thinking? Armin was desperate for you, he’d take you on the floor of a never-before discovered cave from Egyptian times. He would take you in the middle of a sand storm or while you were both drowning in the middle of the ocean. Armin couldn’t care less about what your apartment looked like when you were there - especially if you were there naked.

Not only was he inhumanly horny, but he could bring you to climax only by the sound of his panty breaths and moans of your name. Truly, your friendship with Armin was a huge win-win situation.

Your eyes suddenly moved to the bright pink bullet still sitting prettily on your coffee table. Two hours ago, you were sure you were going to go to bed unsatisfied and horny, but Armin came through as your personal superhero. You may have ruined a friendship, but at least you were going to bed satisfied. You’d ruin anything for a good orgasm.

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