A/N: Here we go, the promised NSFW follow up to Titans and Puppy Dog Kisses. Probably OOC as fuck again, but yet again I don't care.

Also, I'm so, so, so sorry about the title but I literally spent like 2 hours getting steadily more and and more disproportionately angry over being unable to think of a title before I just went "FUCK IT I'M CALLING IT THAT".

Uhhh... Expect a follow up to this eventually on my alt account where all my stories of that nature end up.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except the idea that Armin wants titan!Eren to use him like candy.

Heat. That was definitely a sensation Armin Arlert was acutely aware of. A powerful warmth completely surrounding him. Smothering him. But somehow, it wasn't unpleasant. The second sensation that was overwhelming his senses was the wetness, the liquid washing over him, being rubbed all over him, pooling around him. The third was the powerful muscle moving beneath him as the titan flexed his tongue, as it wrapped itself around Armin's body, turning him over and tasting every inch of him. But there was no fear here, why would he fear Eren? The tongue moved around him again, gently pinning him up against the titan's teeth and brushed against him, earning a gasp as it slipped between his legs. Armin shuddered as it moved him again, stroking along his naked body—wait where had his clothes gone? Hadn't he just been wearing them? Armin frowned, sensing something wasn't quite right…

The blond sat up, panting a little, blinking to clear away the dream-memory. Armin flopped back down, letting out a sigh that trailed off into a frustrated whine, cursing silently that it hadn't been real. He regretted scolding Eren for his behavior, as Eren hadn't attempted to put Armin in his mouth since though he'd been in Titan form a few times. Armin had been more annoyed than anything at the time, but it hadn't been altogether unpleasant, and he'd slowly found himself thinking about it more and more—it didn't hurt that the others questioned him quite a bit at first, demanding to know what it had been like. After all—how often do you get to talk to somebody who spent enough time in a titan's mouth to get wrinkled skin from the saliva-bath and lived to tell the tale?

These memory-dreams were visiting the blond's sleep more frequently, and slowly becoming more and more explicit in nature. Part of it horrified Armin—he'd seen for himself how the titans devoured people, he'd nearly been eaten alive himself. He'd seen Eren consumed. And yet… He'd felt no fear, neither during times he was licked nor the one time he'd been inside of Eren's mouth. And now… Now he felt a curiosity, a longing. Armin wondered if it was because it was Eren, his childhood friend, the one who would stand up to bullies to protect him, the one who had been willing to—and, as far as either of them had realized at the time—actually sacrificed himself to save the blond's life. Eren, who was more dear to him than anyone else.

But whatever the case—be it because it was Eren, or because the trauma had finally caused him to snap and develop a twisted attraction to that which he feared deeply (namely, being eaten alive by a titan)—Armin found the changes in his dream-memories to be more than fascinating, and more than disappointing when they ended. Though the frustration was probably because he now often awoke flushed and sweaty, breathing unevenly, and as aroused as he could ever remember being.

Normally, he was more than a little disgusted with himself, and would do everything he could to try and either go back to sleep or think about something else while he dealt with the "problem" he usually awoke with.

This night, however, Armin was finally done lying to himself about what he wanted. He carefully reconstructed the memory in his mind as it had played out, only he allowed his imagination to take hold instead of the incident ending where it had in reality. He let a hand drift down, slipping below the waistline of his boxers as he imagined a different ending, bringing his other hand up to silence himself as he stroked himself.

He let out a muffled moan, imagining it was Eren's tongue rubbing against his painfully stiff dick instead of his hand, imagining it was saliva being wiped across his heated flesh instead of precum. He shuddered, imagining himself pressed up against Eren's teeth, his titanic friend's tongue still roaming over his body, slipping up between his legs and a strangled whine managed to escape him as he tightened his grip.

Armin imagined being scooped up, almost tossed about in the colossal mouth, the darkness leaving him with his other senses enhanced—all the better for the acute awareness of everything happening at that exact moment (as far as Armin was currently concerned, it wasn't just in his mind anymore). He drew in a shaky breath tossing his head back as he dragged a thumb over his slit, teasing it—in his mind, it was Eren's tongue again, and he was squirming, bucking against it, slipping on the titan's spit pooling around him, dripping onto him and a part of him thought he should be disgusted but the rest of him was just too far gone to care.

The blond let out a chocked groan, pressing his hand more firmly to his mouth as he quickened his stroking, breathing hard, imagining himself being pressed softly—there was pressure but not enough to hurt, no, Eren would never hurt him—to the roof of the titan's mouth, squirming and moaning Eren's name. Begging. For what, Armin wasn't even entirely sure—release? Something else? Both?

Armin squirmed again, trembling, he was close—so very close. He bit down on his hand, stifling the noises managing to escape again, and all he could think about was the heat and the wetness and how it was Eren's mouth, how it was Eren'stongue teasing his body, how Eren was being so gentle with him despite the immense power Armin could feel in the slick, red muscle moving around and under him, and just that it was Eren who was in such absolute control of if he lived or died—with almost no effort he could be crushed against the roof of the titan's mouth, or pushed between the teeth to be bitten into pieces, or forced down the titan's throat. But because it was Eren he knew that he was safe, that nothing would ever harm him while he was within Eren, no matter what, because this was Eren and Erenalways protected him and Armin was groaning that name—the only name he could ever imagine escaping him in such a strangled, desperate tone—as he spilled himself into his hand.

Armin slowly moved the hand from his mouth, pulling his other hand out of his boxers and wiping it on the sheets, shaking and struggling to control his breathing as his heart raced. As the blond finally calmed down, he rolled over, readjusting his blanket, and let out a pitiful whine because he knew that it would always remain something he could only imagine.

The next morning, he found Eren before they set out for the day—a very rare free day where they were allowed to do what they could to relax from all the horrors and stress they endured (after all, mental health was important and rather hard to preserve in their line of work—and Armin already suspected he was losing his grip on sanity), and one that he and Eren were planning to spend by themselves (Mikasa had't been thrilled, but at the desperate look from Armin she'd seemed to catch on—at least, she'd relented, and Armin could have sworn he'd seen the faintest of smiles crossing her lips before she'd turned away). He pulled Eren aside, wrapping his arms securely around the other male, and whispered into his ear.

"Next time, I want you to use me like candy again~"