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Sexy Boy
Yeah, he (stole)rented an apartment — a safe space for the both of you to meet up in. You’re his love, after all. His sweeet little opiate. Even if you are with those cleaners, who gives a fuck? You’re only meeting up with one of the men that threaten their cause! No biggie.
CW: FLUFF + NSFW, cunnilingus, dry humping, biting (gentle), fingering, choking, riding, penetrative sex — Jabber is a little freak. So is reader.
WC: 5.3k
“Sooooo?”
Jabber removes his hands from your eyes, resting them snug on your hips while you're left soundless at the sight of a well polished room. Blinking owlishly as you realize what you’re looking at.
An apartment.
Jabber insisted each time you snuck out of base that he’d rather hang with you in an actual room. He’d pout on about being unable to stay in your room in the Cleaner’s base — and you being unable to stay in his room back at the Raider's.
He did the next best thing. Carved out a loophole and somehow made it work.
Your mouth opens. Then closes again.
“Jabber, you didn’t —“
“Nah, I didn’t pay for the room. Most of the lil’ trinkets I collected myself though.”
He rounds from behind you — huge Cheshire grin on his face as he eyes your expression. Clearly proud of his work.
And … admittedly, it's sweet.
Your eyes soften as you look around the room loosely. Decor. Posters. Plushies. Trinkets. A bed and dressers. Purple flowers. A piercing kit(?) — a gaming console and cartridges he probably stole.
In a strange way, he's like a pigeon decorating a nest. It’s a little unstable but absolutely cute.
“Jabber …” You smile, cupping the apples of his cheeks and kissing the tip of his nose. Jabber grins, nuzzling into your face and sneaking a swift bite to your jaw.
“I was serious about us having a space to hang in when we sneak out,” he ushers you over to the bed. “Sick of those cleaners hogging all the goodies. What they ever do to get somethin’ as pretty as you?”
You couldn’t find it in you to defend the others, at least not now. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you feel around the sheets.
Real silk. Not half assed.
“You didn’t have to.” You say, albeit quiet. Feeling a little emotional with the amount of effort he put into the space to make it homey — even if it was just some ‘room’ to hang out in at night.
Jabber's brows screw together as he recognizes your quietness. Plopping onto the bed after you.
“None of that,” he drawls. The last thing he wanted to see after he surprised you with an apartment was a frown on that gorgeous mug. Hell, this was the very tip of the iceberg for the things he’d do for you!
So? He does something you can’t resist smiling at.
His arms wrap around your shoulders and his head dips — his tongue lolling out of his lips as he licks a looooong stripe up your pretty cheek.
You exclaim and attempt to squirm away but Jabber snarls against your skin, fangs bared as he closes his jaw around your ear in a gentle bite. Punishment for trying to break away from his affection.
“Jabber — stop that!” You protest with a wide grin. He plants wet kisses against whatever skin he can reach for his last act before he finally lets you rip away. You fist your skin an attempt to rid the saliva cooling over your face, playfully glaring at him. He blows a condescending kiss toward you, knowing you wouldn’t get that feeling of his smothering love off of you.
"Swear I'll put a muzzle on you one day," You giggle, unable to fight back a timid smile. Jabber pouts mockingly.
"Y'know I'd love nothing more than that."
"Whore."
"You know it."
A demented smile twitches onto his face as a new thought drifts over his head.
“Y’know I’d fuck up a looot of people to give you somethin’ as small as a kitten, pretty.” He says dreamily, lost in his own fantasy. You stop wiping your face to give him a look.
“... You didn’t do that for the apartment, did you?”
He grins, fangs overlapping his bottom teeth.
“This time? Nah — too easy to threaten the guy ownin’ the building. Just told em’ I was a raider and boom. Apartment to myself,” he kisses your forehead, “and my gorgeous wifey.”
Your smile deepens — toeing your boots off and letting them clatter to the ground.
“Wifey, huh?” You muse. Scooting back until your back hits the headboard. Getting comfortable in the space provided as your arms reach for one of the amputated plushes he rounded up for decor, "That's a new one.”
Jabber stays seated on the edge of the bed, content with you getting comfy in the room he basically put together for you. His catty, magenta irises fixed on you. Watching the way your cheek rests snug against the worn fur of the plushie.
The way your body wrinkles the sheets beneath you.
The way the bare, yummy soft skin of your thighs contrast the purple fabric.
His hand idly drifts over to your ankle. Slowly stroking the skin while he bites the inside of his cheek. You have the nerve to look so succulent sweet, mangling his thoughts — and you're not even doing anything.
You're staring right back at him, biting back a taunt for his uncharacteristic silence when you realize he's drinking you in. Savoring what he can for the next few hours before you have to take yourself back to the cleaners.
But when you notice his obvious attention to your thighs, you buffer and break the silence.
"The piercing kit," you nod toward the far corner. Where the plastic box sits beside the video game cartridges. "What's it for?"
Jabber blinks, following your eyes and finding the bin of studs and needles.
"Ohhh, that. For piercing. Duh."
You kick his thigh, earning a laugh straight from his chest as he crawls after you to the headboard. His hand gliding up to your thigh and nestling in the dip of your waist as he sits against the chipped wood.
He wishes you'd kicked him harder.
He folds his fingers over his chest, watching you longingly.
“Want you to give me a few piercings,” he admits. Eyes half lidded as his hand snakes beneath your shirt — nails gliding against the warm skin of your tummy while he tests your waters.
He's delighted to watch you nuzzle into the plushie while he touches you.
“Because I trust you and everything. Pretty thing like you pokin’ holes in me? I’d die the happiest fucker in the world.” He says with a drawl, fingers wandering on down to that hip bone of yours unblinkingly.
Your shoulders shake with a quiet laugh, melting at the gentleness of his touch.
“You just wanna feel the pain that comes with it, freak.”
He hums in consideration, twirling one of his locs around a finger. “Well that, and I think piercings are sexy. You wanna make me look sexy, don’t you?” He drags out his words, clearly roused by the thought.
The corner of your lip twitches into a smile, hand departing the plushie and running the knuckles along his cheek. Jabber responds like an eager kitten given attention, leaning into your sweet affectionate touches as you speak with a bold tongue.
“You look sexy enough.” You remark into the fabric. Jabber's pupils dilate ever so slightly, awed by your playful yet ... sweet words.
“Like .. really sexy.” You add faintly.
For a moment, he’s quiet as a church mouse.
Then, his eyes twinkle while he processes your words.
The underbelly of an invitation, is what that was. You always either teased or laughed off his suggestiveness.
This time? You eased into it on your own accord. And he’d be damned if he didn’t take that opportunity to crack your shell a little more.
His eyes never stray from your expression as he gently pries the plushie from your arms. Tossing it away to some unknown corner of the bed so that he’d have your attention instead. Full and undivided.
With those darling cleaner eyes of yours on him .. he could eat you up right now.
"You know what those words do to me?" He remarks. Eyes fixated on your lips while he takes one of your pretty hands and clasps it against the side of his face. Your tongue feels too fat for your own mouth as you wait for him to finish.
“Makes me wanna tear you away from them cleaners forever," He gently nips the tip of your thumb. "Be a selfish asshole and keep you all to myself."
You breathe quietly. Thumb gently poking at his lower lip - only to twitch away before he can wrap his lips around it. He childishly pouts at the missed opportunity.
"Is that what you want, Jabs'?"
"Yes ma'am."
Jabber's always flirty and stupidly affectionate - yet you haven't seen this side of him yet. He's love drunk.
"And get this," He starts.
"Get what?"
He grins again. Nodding toward the nightstand.
"Right in that lil' second drawer? Loads of fuckin' condoms. Like .. packages on packages."
A blanket of silence engulfs the room. Your thumb twitches away from his mouth as you process his words. Raunchy, unabashed, and most of all? You could tell he wasn't lying. You caught the plastic wrapping for some sort of gas station box in the trash bin a while ago.
In the midst of your silence, Jabber's wolfish grin only grows wider.
"You're nasty." You couldn't help but chortle at his obscenity. Jabber reaches up and cups your cheek this time, Mankira's rings cold against your skin.
"You love me, pretty girl." He coos. Using a forefinger and thumb to squeeze your chin and gently shake your head in his grip.
You snicker and nestle your face into his touch. Lips meeting his thumb in a chaste peck — It makes his eyes shimmer where he sits.
"Maybe I do."
Then, eyes lock again. They don't waver once as Jabber decides then and there that the cleaners do not fucking deserve you.
He'd always ruled out love as some fiction fantasy only the privileged, happy-go-lucky passed around.
Now?
He can agree with those optimistic punks on this one thing.
He jolts forward, his nose knocking against yours before his lips crash into your own. Slovenly but affectionate.
And god, whenever you kiss him? Your lips feel so velvety soft it sickens him. Melting his mind so that he's nothing more than a dog in front of you.
A stupid and horny mutt.
The room is hushed. Save for the sticky sound of the deep kiss Jabber refuses to depart from. Sounds that you have to ignore or else the low heat between your thighs would spread and become unbearable. He forces himself to break away, tearing off his hoodie and getting right back into it.
"You're the most addictive .. mm .. prettiest thing ever," Jabber lilts into the kiss. You whine, absently fisting the sheets while his tongue glides against yours.
He refuses to let the opportunity slip from his fingers. Let you slip from his greedy claws.
Not giving you a wink of time to catch your breath, he grapples your waist and hauls you into his lap but never breaking the lip lock.
"You've been temptin' me all night." His words drift off to somewhere in the room, your thighs rested snug on either side of his legs.
"I haven't even done anything" You muse. Pleased by how easy it is to turn him on. Fingers looped behind his neck to push his lips tight your own.
"Exactly," He breaths. "So pretty and you don't even know half of it. 'Specially these gorgeous thighs you have," accentuating his point, his hand slithers beneath you and holds a globe of your ass in hand. Kneading the fat with a moan. You gasp — and he uses that moment to gently chew your lower lip.
"Could fuck 'em just like this," His breath falters at the thought, eyes rolling into the back of his skull. "You don't know what ya do to me. It's crazy."
You have an idea of what you do to him. For one, you’re his anchor — he’s a little more sane with you. But at the same time, you're a drug he can never replicate. Making his brain all dumb and easy with incomprehensible thoughts of lust.
Your twitching thigh betrays your arousal, you're unable to squeeze them together to relieve yourself. And Jabber notices you struggle.
Oh he notices alright.
Slowly, he breaks the kiss, looking you up and down condescendingly. He has a drunken, lazy grin on his face. Lips slick with your spit as he slowly bites his lip.
"How about it then, wifey?"
He hikes you further up his pelvis ... so you make contact with an obstacle straining his pants. Your eyes flutter down as you realize, in the midst of kissing, Jabber has grown insanely hard. Your eyes flit back up to see he’s gone blank. Drunk off your spit.
He tilts his head languidly.
"Let's fuck, huh?"
He said it in such a gravelly deep tone, you nearly forgot you were a cleaner. Most likely had a job to attend to in the morning.
You weigh your options.
A potential cleaning in the morning? Or a good fuck with your pretty raider. Who, worth mentioning, nested a second little home for you and himself.
The faint throb in your tummy picks the ladder. And so does your common sense.
Jabber watches you with wild eyes. Running a hand along your plushy thigh as he awaits for your response. Sure, he's horny off his head and he’d want nothing more than to bend you in half and pound you silly into the mattress — but he wants your consent above anything else. He can’t make his sweet girl feel good if she doesn’t want it.
You press a lecherous kiss to the underside of his jaw. Gently biting the skin. Jabber breathlessly moans in response.
"That a yes, baby?" He queries quietly, leg bouncing excitedly while you nip at his olive skin. You nod, fingers wandering over the thick tent adding weight to his lap.
"I have ... an hour or two left." You nod toward the door. "Before I have to head back to base."
Jabber grins, flashing sharp but pearly white teeth.
He knew you had it in you. His dirty little cleaner was juuust as filthy as he was.
His black nails scoop you up and mold your ass directly over his clothed cock. Grinding you down on his shaft manually before you take the reigns and rock your hips, the bed gently groaning from the movement.
Mutually, Jabber's hips up and roll up into yours. A dizzying chuckle leaving him as he imagines those other cleaners. And that they had no idea what pretty little Y/N was doing under their noses.
"Atta' girl .. yeah, just like that," He captures your pillowy lips with his own. His hand voraciously squeezes your ass, you whimper before you could stop it. And he swallows it with grace.
Jabber's in wonderland - watching his pretty girl get herself off.
Practically tasting the warmth pulsating from between those soft thighs of yours. So pillowy and soft and ... fuck.
He can't just let you get in on all the fun without him. Bumping that perfect little clit against his heavy bulge ... and you haven’t even taken any clothes off yet!
What kind of boyfriend would he be if he made you come so lamely?
"C'mere baby," He uses the strength in his forearms as he shifts you, "Need to make you feel nice and mushy. Better than you've ever felt."
He rolls you beneath his body, Your head landing on one of the mismatched pillows as he presses dramatic, wet kisses down your neck. Nose nuzzling into your skin on his way down as if he refused to part from you for even a second.
Until he reaches your tummy where he flips your shirt up hungrily. And gets right back to work, worming his tongue along your hip bone before biting it.
"Jabs' - fuck, slow down .." You giggle beneath your breath, he looks up at you from beneath his silky lashes. A crooked smirk hanging off his jaw as he bites the zipper of your shorts.
"How could I when I got all I ever need in front a' me, huh?" He slurs and drags the zipper down your crotch languidly. The sound contrasts the low ambiance of cars just outside of the window.
You leverage yourself on your elbows as you watch him jerk the fabric off your thighs. Avidly smooching each inch of skin feeding his gaze as he slings the shorts to some unknown corner of the room.
For a lengthy pause, Jabber's quiet. His attention fixated on your undergarment, tilting his head dollishly.
"Purple, huh?"
His quip comes out airy. He felt his cock twitch in his pants.
You look away sheepishly. Because you just so happened to wear his favorite color tonight of all nights, right?
But Jabber doesn't dwell on the thought. Instead, tightly grabs and blooms your thighs apart, the skin of your thighs spilling between his fingers deliciously.
He lays himself on his belly, level with the heaven you kept between your flawless legs.
His thumb crawls up the imprint of your slit - made a little more visible with your sweet slick dampening them.
You feel your clit lowly thrum as you watch Jabber discover you with awe. His nubile eyes twinkling when he feels your thigh jump from his light touch, thumb ghosting over your dressed nub.
"Quit teasing'," you fuss. Barely a whisper of breath while he teases you.
"Someone's psyched.." Jabber muses, enraptured watching how sensitive you react to his touch.
Twitching and jumping from some grazing? Oh he'll have fun.
Suddenly he hooks a finger on the strap of your panties. You help him take them off by arching your hips and curling up your legs. The lace gently scraping down your skin as he eventually pulls them off your ankles. Niiice and slow.
Then he balls the fabric up in a fist.
Dropping his head right on down to those cute lace panties and pressing the hump of his nose against the crotch, taking a looong sniff in. Exhaling orgasmically.
An unabashed giggle chirps from his lips as he watches you cringe. Stuffing your soiled panties in the pocket of his pants.
"For safe keepin'. Don't worry, I'll give them back to ya. … Someday." he returns to your awaiting pussy. Hiking the backs of your thighs over his broad shoulders.
Admittedly, watching him scrape up remnants of your scent was hot.
"You can keep them," You get comfortable, crossing your legs behind his skull.
"Wasn't givin' 'em back," he sneers.
Two of Jabber’s thumbs snake up each soft lip of your cunt. Parting them and tackling your clit with his strong tongue. You gasp, fingers grasping his locs to stabilize yourself as he bullies your sensitive nub.
Your back arches off the silk sheets, hands claiming purchase on his voluminous locs to stable yourself while you take it. Take his confident licks and listen to the obscene slurping that rings off the cracked wallpapers. Feeling his saliva bead down to your ass as he sloppily munches on you.
"F - Fuck.." You whine breathlessly, "You're, mm, good at that."
Jabber was muses at your compliment, glancing up at you from between your adorably wobbly thighs.
"You sound surprised, baby. You wound me," he slurps your swollen clit into his lips. Wide eyes watching your expression contort while he keeps your hips pinned to the bed sheets. His nails printing small crescent moons into your skin in effort to keep you nice and still — refusing to let you squirm away even an inch as his tongue splits your chubby pussy lips apart.
“You taste so fucking good. Can't get," slurp, "Enough of you."
Jabber's having a blast. But when he suddenly feels you claw at his locs? He could nut in his pants right there. With no shame.
Your cries are music to his ears. He fights back a smile as to not disturb his ministrations, smacking your ass with a strong right hand and enjoying the short lived squeal he got out of you. Squeezing the supple fat to numb the sting.
"Feels... really, hmmph, Fuck. I'm getting close," You whine, gliding your sensitive clit against his nose.
“Thash right baby,” He slurs, “Fuck my fuckin’ face..” He shakes his head before departing from your cunt with a small mwah, his fingers hovering over your heat.
He wonders how, decorated in his spit, your pussy managed to look even prettier than before. With your clit swollen, and your cute little hole clenching around nothing.
Then the rest of you. All flustered and trembling from being on the verge of a hot orgasm. Pupils all dilated and hopeful behind your silky lashes, your fingers clutching his locs so hard he (hopes)figures it might scar his scalp. He grins dreamily, lips lubricated with your sweet juices.
"You're a vision," Jabber crawls back up your body with a hypnotized haste. Your hands fall down to his shoulders and eagerly meet his lips in an imperfect kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue. His hand worms between your bodies back to your deprived pussy.
He prods your slick hole with his pointer and middle fingers and slowly wedges them into your gummy soft walls. But your greedy hole swallows them so easy, you buck up for more.
He smiles at your body’s familiarity with him already. Opening up so easily for his digits.
Your mind goes hazy, his nose crunching against yours as he roughly kisses your thoughts away. Soft clicks, the sound of his knuckles meeting your cunt again and again, fill the silent room.
"Pretty lil' cleaner. Just wanted to get finger-fucked by your favorite raider huh?"
You nod dumbly, aimless nails clawing down his back, leaving the skin raw and red much to Jabber’s sick delight.
At this point, his cock was fighting against the flimsy fabric of his pants. So painfully hard as he feels you squirm and mewl beneath him.
“I’m gonna … cum, fuck, Jabs',” You pant, his rapid fingering making your thighs curl up to your torso. He feels you close around his fingers, swallowing your airy moans as you finally get lost in an orgasm. Your thighs tremble as Jabber sandwiches his fingers deep in your cunt, crunching them so they perfectly career against that sweet spot in you.
“Thaaaat’s right baby." He croons, coaxing you back down from your high — making sure he milked the best of your high.
When your orgasm finally begins to dwindle, he breaks the lip lock with a quiet, sticky sound. Extremely proud of the disheveled, post-orgasmic canvas in front of him.
He looks you up and down, a slanted smirk creeping up his cheek.
"Better than what those cleaners could ever give you, yeah?" He spat out the word 'cleaners' like old, shriveled up gum. Picking up your limp hand and connecting his lips to the knuckle. Intertwining his callous fingers with yours.
Your shoulders shake in an airless laugh. Eyes still fluttered shut as you experience the last bits of your high. "It's not a competition."
"If it was, I'd win right?"
"There is no competition. None of them have ever gone down on me," You smile. He leans his cheek serenely against the back of your palm, watching your pretty face quizzically.
"So ... I win." He concludes.
"Sure you do, Jabs'."
Your eyes crack open to his arm reaching over you, sliding open the top drawer of the nightstand and fetching a purple colored condom between his two, painted nails. He bites his lip as he watches intrigue flicker in the reflection of your glossy eyes.
"Still got life in these legs, pretty?" He asks, hand appreciatively stroking your tummy.
You nod, and Jabber begins to fumble with the zipper of his pants. Erection stretching it so far it looked on the verge of bursting open.
He rolls off your body, laying on his back beside you on the mattress while tousling his pants off, condom laying beside him. Letting them collapse onto the worn apartment floors and leaving him in purple, tight boxers.
Your eyes dart almost immediately down to his cock, clearly outlined under the fabric. And fuck was he leaking.
"You get me so hard it’s unbelievable," He says in awe, palming himself lazily. "Got me feeling all woozy ... fuck I ain't gonna last like this, pretty."
You blink at his ... oddly endearing words. Heat bubbling in the pit of your belly as he touches himself at a snail's pace.
You had to admit, he looked stupidly hot like this — Feeling up his throbbing erection and bitching on and on about how much you effect him.
He inches down the elastic waistband of his boxers and lets his cocoa colored tip peak above the fabric, slick with milky pre. Lazily dragging his thumb over the slit and collecting some of his arousal.
"C'mere," He lets go, holding out two pre-coated fingers and floating them to your lips. "Get a sample."
What a freak.
But you open your mouth nonetheless. Your legs squeezing together as he runs his two fingers over your tongue. The salty taste of his pre replenishing your tastebuds. Jabber curses beneath his breath, eyes centered on you even as he pats around the sheets for the forgotten condom.
He snarls and rips open the rapper with a pull of sharp teeth, yanking the rest of his boxers down to free his heavy cock, rolling the thin layer of rubber over it.
"Eager," You tease while he tows you over his lap like an oversized doll, handling you with the care of a poor man moving gold.
"Yeah I'm eager," He eyes that darling body of yours up and down. Towering above him, light hitting your skin perfectly. Shadowing over your cunt that looms above his lap. It's like you were dangling a carrot in front of a donkey. A disheveled, stupidly horny donkey.
"Now sit on this dick and ride the fuck outta me." He warbles.
If only the others could see you now. They're probably sound asleep, assuming you were well nested in your own bed.
Hell, anywhere but in the apartment that a raider so dutifully decorated just to make you a second home.
After angling his length, you deliberately sink yourself down until you’re fully sat. Heavy balls snug against the crevice of your ass as Jabber moans. Head thrown back and locs strewn over his face as he finally feels your cozy walls wrapped around his dick.
"Shiiiiit," he howls beneath you. You move your hips, slowly finding your stability as the uncomfort shifts into a warm arousal.
Experimentally, you raise your ass then ease yourself back down. A whimper gets trapped in your throat as you find a rhythm. Gently rocking yourself back and forth over his lap, his fat, wrapped tip snug against a spot in you that made you not want to pull him out. Ever.
"Y'feel so good," You mewl, grinding him into your sweet spot. Jabber's convinced you have his soul hostage in that moment. Looking so beautiful above him, like a lustful, white feathered angel sapping what she needed to get her fill from a disgusting man like him.
He feebly bucks his hips. Attempting to get you to continue moving.
"Sweet girl if you keep at that, I'm gonna nut. Way too fast." He admits, and you take it with a grain of salt. Raising your hips, then dropping them back down on him, luring a moan from his throat as you slowly begin to ride him.
The bed rocks beneath Jabber as you fuck him. Pretty tits bouncing beneath your top and the sound of your thighs clapping against his own mixing a sick cocktail that made him mad with lust.
"Fuck yeah baby — fuuuuck just like that. Fuck your r—hah-raider," He growls. Clawing at your cushy hips and unintentionally lining the skin deep with marks.
You're mewling, now. Like a bitch in heat, addicted to the way he kept you filled and whined while doing it.
Something makes your fingers drag up to his throat. Wrapping around the warm skin gently at first. His bright eyes snap toward you the moment he feels your thumbs constrict his windpipe. Like he was just waiting for you to do something like this.
His mouth gapes, hands darting up to wrap around yours as he slowly loses the ability to breathe. A fat grin on his face because he wouldn't trade this moment for anything else.
And you keep riding him, his heavy balls tightening inevitably each time you slam back down on him.
Fuck.
His head goes all funny, eyes rolling into the back of his skull as he mouths 'I'm cumming,' unable to force the words out.
You feel his cock throb. Once. Twice, then he fills the condom with his release. Shooting his hot seed into the rubber with his eyes sealed. You watch him ride out his orgasm, loosening your tight grip on his windpipe.
He slowly gains his bearings, chest rising up and down as he lays there. Used. The best he'd ever felt.
Then he realizes, lifting his chin. You're still riding him.
His eyes focus back on your face. Cute little face. So content with using his dick.
It hurt, but fuck did it hurt so good. He bites his lip as he embraces the overstimulation, bracing a hand on the upper fat of your thigh.
"F .... uck. Baby. Baby y're ... ruthless," He slurs. You let out an airy giggle, in pursuit of your own orgasm as you grind his spent cock. Your hips roll faster as you fall over the edge of your peak, making any coherent thought blip from Jabber's skull. As your pussy slowly milks him for what he's worth.
You keep him sheathed as you collapse onto his chest. Immediately, his arms crowd over your shoulders and hold you tight to his body.
You listen to his heart beat that slams against his rib cage as you slowly descend your high. Nuzzling your cheek against his warm, sticky skin. The lean muscles beneath his skin unmistakeable as you rest against them.
The smell of sex plugged the apartment to it's brim, leaving the both of you floating in the thick afterglow. You have half a mind to spend the night, on his body. Even with the sharp jut of Jabber's hip bones poking uncomfortably into your skin.
Jabber's staring at you again. Heart set ablaze with a feeling so heavy he doesn't know how to deal with the weight. So he settles for tracing tiny circles over your back. Listening to your breaths with a sleepy smile on his face.
"I think they can live with ya being missin' ... just one night." He reads your mind. You lift your head, perching your chin on his collarbone.
"Y'know I can't, Jabs'."
He pouts childishly. He's okay with you being a cleaner — hell, he's into it — but he'd kill a few people for one, quiet night with you snuggled up with him. A night like this.
Your lips mold against his cheek, "But I guess I could spare a few more hours in here ..."
Jabber cracks a smile. If that's all the time he could scavenge, he'll take it.
"M'kay." He purrs, carefully lifting your hips up and off him. Snickering when you cringe at the emptiness.
"Now, about those piercings..."
A/n: this took me eons to write 💔 but I hope u enjoyed :3
…p.s. some art I did of my lightskin babyboy
(art acc: yulena._ on tiktok) #shamelessplug
masterlist !! ⭑.ᐟ
Mha —
Aizawa shouta
my moon, my man
black milk
Aot -
Armin Arlert
‘Min Reiner Braun Chick Habit(coming soon!) !!
Gachiakuta -
Jabber Wonger
sexy boy
who should I write 4 next ^_^
Reiner Braun
Izuku Midoriya
Armin Arlert
Bruno Bucciarati
Hange Zöe
Jabber Wonger
Aizawa fic was so freaking good I need more of that dynamic plzzzz
Black Milk
The morning after Aizawa makes up for his long absence … he decides isn’t done with his acts of service quite yet. (pt. 2 of My Moon, My Man)
CW: FLUFF + NSFW, Cunnilingus, teasing, groping, rimming, and yearning. Aizawa is an eater and I will die on that hill.
WC: 1.4k
Aizawa is the very last person to complain about the dorm situation in UA. He’s aware that it’s the best solution to prevent his students being prone to villains — All the while promoting their education being in proximity to the school.
A practical solution.
But fuck, the lame smell of his dorm doesn’t even begin to compare to the scent of your skin, rich with moisture after a late night bath [after making you orgasm].
Like a house cat, Aizawa bathes in the sunlight that wafts into the bedroom. His body layered with ruffled blankets while your leg is snugly thrown over his hip — he marvels at your face, free of any discomfort or stress.
He's been watching you for the past ... maybe 40 minutes, now.
You'd think the sleep deprivation of two month nightly patrols along with teaching on the side would leave Aizawa inoperable. In truth, he doesn't feel the slightest fatigued. At least not in the same bed as you; his wife that'd he'd voluntarily carve out his heart for.
His eyes, like a barn owl, contently watch you sleep. It's his his odd routine of making sure you're safe - protecting you, as minor as it sounds. Weird? Yeah, sure. . But he's happy to guard you , even if you're never in any real danger.
You unconsciously nest further into his body while he uses a knuckle to brush beneath your lower lip. His jaw shifts, finding clarity that you felt this comfortable beside him.
While using his hand to glide along your forearm, he shifts forward. Flaccid, inky locks drape over his shoulders while he ghosts his lips over yours.
"Baby," he murmurs.
Naturally, you stir. Aizawa runs a thumb along the side of your cheek as you awake, coaxing you to reality.
“Sweetheart,” Aizawa calls for your attention a second time. This time, he combs his fingers through your hair.
You hum, nosing yourself deeper into your pillow.
"Shou ... 's early. Did you even get any sleep?"
"Got enough sleep." He murmurs. You peak an eye at him, highly suspicious of his swift response.
“No you didn’t.” You muse, picking up your head and nudging your face to his cheek, feeling the texture of stubble beneath your lips. His hands grapple your waist and haul you over his body so he can kiss you. Properly.
You hum as he wedges his tongue into your mouth, feeling his hands scope down to your soft thighs as he carefully bites your lower lip.
"Maybe I didn't then," Aizawa admits, voice obscured as your lips move in slow tandem with his own. "But don't blame me for seeing through that I spend every moment of my break with you."
His words were so sweet, you could've sworn he poured honey onto his tongue. Using your nails to sweep his black locks away from his face, you smile.
"You're such a fucking sap."
Aizawa's eyes soften as they focus on your pretty mug, free from his strewn black tresses.
"I'll even admit it for you. I'm a fucking sap."
You snort and he cracks a crooked smile, using his weight to roll your body beneath him. It's then that Aizawa realizes, with both his fists gently wrapped around your wrists, that you're still clad of any top from last night.
Briefly, his eyes dart to your supple breasts then back to your face. His grip cedes from your skin as his hands hover.
"Can I touch ... ?" He asks, voice raspy with sleep depravity.
Your eyes twinkle. This hadn't happened in a while — morning domesticity. The domesticity of Aizawa and his obvious infatuation with you.
You nod, but Aizawa stares at you long after you do. Assuring your comfortable with him even after asking. Satisfied, his palms find purchase on your chest.
You let out a gentle sound as Aizawa paws at your supple mounds, occasionally rolling your nipple between his pointer and middle finger. Just the way you like it.
"I hope you don't mind," Aizawa starts, sprawling his hands over your breasts. You blink at him curiously.
"How touchy I've been with you." He finishes.
Your thigh lightly jolts as he slots his knee between your thighs — the thin shorts you wear barely conceal the stimulation his knee provides.
" 'Course I don't mind." You insist, disbelief lacing your words. He catches your tone and discreetly holds back a smirk.
Sometimes he forgets you yearn for attention as much as himself.
"Wanna treat this pussy right." He speaks, as if your cunt had a mind of it's own.
Aizawa runs his thumb over the clothed hood of your clit. Tilting his head as he watches you respond to such a subtle touch.
"Haven't been very good to her, have I? Leaving her all needy like this."
Playing along, you raise a hand and bring his face down to your own — giving him that doting smile he adores.
"Make it up to her, then. Last night was good, but ... I want more."
"Greedy girl."
You bite your lip as you watch him blindly pat around the nightstand for a hair tie — knowing what he intends to do for the next hour.
“Shou’?”
Wordlessly, he raises his head to look at you once he finishes tying his hair into a low effort bun.
“ ‘M still sore from last night.” You admit. Aizawa gives you a thoughtful nod, leaning down and kissing above your brow.
“Whatever you want, sweetheart. ‘M sorry I wore you out.”
You get the feeling he isn't as sorry as he claims to be. He loves his ability to make you feel good.
Prying your thighs open with two hands, Aizawa regards your newfound sensitivity and dips his head. Smoothing a kiss to your wrinkled, pink panties.
Then he tugs the fabric aside, and leeches to your pussy.
"F — Shou'!" Your face curls up, unprepared for his blunt approach. You feel him smirk against your skin.
He still minds your comment as he rolls his tongue along your tender clit, not wanting to make you shrink away.
"What a sweet fucking treat," He grunts in the midst of his onslaught, gently raising the underside of your thigh for a better angle, "you don't understand how desperate, sweetheart." He huffs. You mewl as he applies pressure to your nub.
"Desperate I was for you to rub this cute little pussy on my face."
"I —mmn— missed this too," You purr, fingers sluicing through his black locks and gently pushing his head down. The coil in your belly pulsating as his tongue steadily traces lines up and down your weeping pussy.
Pushing your knees to your chest, he angles his head downward and circles his tongue around your rim. Keeping your thighs raised with one arm while he traces two fingers down your cunt.
"There, mhm, fuck. Keep doing tha—at," you slur. Aizawa peaks a crimson eye up at you, satisfied you're enjoying yourself.
Before you met Shouta, you were never able to get how getting eaten out was ecstasy for other women. The men you were with were sloppy, half-assed and didn't know what to do with you.
But Shouta? Not only is he precise, he also puts your pleasure above all.
He gets comfortable, laying flat on his stomach as he leaves your puckered rim with a lasting kiss, and penetrates your cunt with his fingers.
Your slick soddens Aizawa's stubble as he continues to munch on your oversensitive pussy. You whine and squirm, repeatedly warning him how you're so close. Hips gently rocking to meet his knuckles each time he pushes in.
"Go ahead, sweetheart."
The coil pops.
You come around his fingers, breathy moans drawn from your throat as he drags out your orgasm with his tongue. Slowly lapping at your clit until your body is sated and humming in delight.
Like the aftermath of a storm, reality slowly comes back to you. Your husband pecks short, fond kisses along your tummy while you come down from your much needed high.
Letting your thighs fall from his bulky shoulders, Shouta's intense gaze observes you.
He doesn't know why, but he loves the afterglow. Watching you bathe in post orgasm, your clouded expression and baited breath.
In short, it makes him happy to see you happy.
“You’re beautiful, y/n.” You blink away your daze as his words rope you back down to the present.
“ … Thank you, Shou’. ” You blink. Caught off guard with his sudden, devoted affection.
You take a moment to marvel at him. Freshly face fucked and wet with your fluid. It induced a strange, deep desire in you to see him disheveled like this.
You let out a barely audible whine, beckoning him to come up to your level. He gives you an exasperated chuckle at your never ending insatiability.
Sitting beside your body, he coaxes your cheek against his scarred palm.
" 'M never leaving you alone for that long ever again."
His tone was final, as if he'd decided it prior returning home.
You blink, sitting up with unstable legs and meeting his tight expression with a besotted kiss. He undeniably softens and returns the kiss, nose gently bumping against your own before you pull away first. Blindly, he slightly chases after your lips before catching himself.
"You'd better not." You huff. Aizawa graces you with a rare smile.
"I'd rather drop dead."
My Moon, My Man
Uh Oh! Recently, Aizawa has been extremely stressed with juggling hero work and the future of his students! His lack of an emotional output leads him right home, where he feels he neglected his beautiful wife.
CW: FLUFF + NSFW, cunnilingus, penetrative sex, squirting, yearning, teasing, etc. yearning, yearning, yearning, did i mention yearning? Aizawa loves his wife. (Pt 2, here)
WC: 4k
You knew Aizawa’s favorite dish was beef stew on his most stressful days. And these past two months were nothing short of purgatory for him.
Purgatory being the overwhelming pile of duty and responsibility dumped on him with every coming week. Every day would bring forth more training than the last, straining his quirk with the intention to raise the next generation to prove better than the previous.
In short, he's worn out. A dry, wrung out towel left to lie outside.
To make matters worse, he hadn’t seen you, the woman he holds higher than himself, in eons. Of course, he makes arrangements to see you that loophole the UA dorm policy, and he makes sure to fill you in on daily events.
But it just wasn’t enough. Not for him.
“ ‘M home, sweetheart.”
Aizawa drags himself through the front door of yours and his shared home, hooking his key onto the holster as he eyes you in the kitchen.
His shoulders immediately release tension as the scent of layered seasoning waft his nostrils. Aizawa constantly insists you don’t have to do something so sweet and ambitious, yet you act on your own accord.
And he can't help but run his tongue over his teeth in restraint. You look perfect, even from the back. Wrong, especially from the back.
“ Shou’. ” Your nickname for him leaves your lips wrapped in affection. Angling your head over your shoulder to greet him with a sweet smile as your not exactly able to leave the stove.
“I didn’t think the bags under your eyes could get anymore full,” you giggle as you read his exhausted body. Slouched shoulders, heavy eyes and untamed locks.
He pokes his lower lip out. Real funny.
“Yeah yeah, laugh it up,” he huffs, unraveling his capture scarf and hanging it beside his key. Rounding the kitchen island and perching his chin over your shoulder—nose nudging into the crook of your neck as his crimson eyes watch you do your magic. “Here I am looking forward to seeing you and the first thing you do is insult me.”
"You know I’m playing with you,” you huff, plating a hefty amount of mixed beef stew and rice. He quietly thanks you. “I even think it’s a look on you.”
“Sometimes I think you pray for my demise.” He speaks into your neck.
“You'll never know.”
His lips purse to add a few, lazy kisses to the side of your smooth neck. Enjoying the scent of cocoa scented lotion he finds there. Aizawa was a man who appreciates the minor details—something as little as a small accessory or even a change in body wash never went unnoticed.
You crane your neck to kiss above his brow, in response he lets out a low purr and takes his plate.
“ ‘M not as exhausted as I was for the past week,” he starts, taking a small trek to the dining room table. “I can actually spend a little time with you, t’night.”
You crack a smile when he makes that revelation. The octave in his voice made it obvious he’s looking forward to spending his crumbs of free time with you. You don’t respond until after you set the lid onto the pot of beef stew.
“You being here is enough to make me feel good," You remark. “Asleep or awake.”
Aizawa then takes his first bite of food to mask how much your words really tug his heart strings.
"Well," He speaks between bites. "I still have to teach tomorrow. I hope it's fine that I just spend a few hours with you in the house."
You hum. "I don't expect you to drag yourself around the city to go to a fancy restaurant with me."
"I know. Just wish I could provide a little m—"
"You’re doing enough, Shou’. I promise."
He blinks, chewing around a mouthful of food as he meets your winsome eyes with his own.
His middle finger idly taps on the metal chopsticks he was using. A tiny tick you noticed he had when he was saying less than he was thinking.
Not only that, but his lower lip slightly poked out. He's frustrated.
"Just saying." He murmurs. Sinking his teeth into a new bite. "I don't want to give you false hope. Though I wish I had some scraps of time every now and then to just ... be here."
You give him a forgiving smile.
"Sometimes I hope you have a little time for me. But I understand you're training a generation of heroes and saving lives." Your lips meet his cheek. "How could my pretty husband get any more badass, huh?"
Aizawa was always thankful you understood his circumstances. You're bold, but you're also perceptive.
One of the billion things he adores about you.
“I promise. One day I’ll take us somewhere. Maybe a different country.”
He angles his face so his nose grazes against yours. You could feel his breath fanning over your lips as he remains unmoving. The tension in the air thickened to the point where it was physical as cotton candy. You smile and nudge your nose against his.
Oh Aizawa loves you so fucking much.
Moments like these are rare, where he just gets to enjoy you.
His eyes flutter shut for a moment, dismissing his food as he gravitates toward your jaw—closing his lips into the space between your chin and neck. You hum and angle your head upward, allowing him more workspace. He nips a small love bite into your skin before kissing over it. Then he leans in for your lips.
You withdraw. Aizawa pauses to search your face. Wondering if he’d done something wrong.
"Finish eating, M'kay?" You run along his inky locks with a few fingers. If he kept doting on you like this, the food would go cold. "Then join me on the couch. I’ll make you feel extra comfortable.”
Aizawa snorts, pecking the inside of your palm.
“You spoil me entirely too much," He murmurs. You snicker at his words instead of denying them. No use, he and you both knew it was true.
You spend the next few minutes setting the living space for Aizawa and you. His favorite pastime activity was lounging around the house, specifically, lounging on you.
The man in question palms his hands onto paper towel after washing and drying the dishes in the sink. It was only fair he did after you went through the trouble cooking.
He’s real uptight with the lack of time he's able to spend with you, especially now that UA enforced the dorm policy. It was on rare nights like this he could organize some short hours to spend with you.
He huffs, ruby eyes drifting over to the open door that leads to the living room.
You're so perfect, and here he is. Managing brief interactions with you. The house is basically yours at this point, and he's just a frequent visitor. Aizawa knows the importance of all he does, yet some nights he still wishes that somehow, he could have you at his hip. Childish, non-logical wishes he’d scold himself for if he wasn’t in love.
But fuck it. He has you tonight. You have him tonight.
He’d be damned if he let an inconvenience get the best of tonight.
Running his blunt nails through his hair, he turns off the kitchen light and stalks off to the living room.
“I really appreciate your work in the kitchen. You know you don’t have t—”
Before he could even pass the doorframe, he pauses.
There you sit.
Quietly filing your nails with your knees against your chest. Pouty lips pursed with the effort of sculpting your nails to be the shape you desire. But what really stole his breath were the pajamas you’re sporting.
You look like a forbidden fruit. Dipped in honey and dangling above his eyes after years of being starved. Wrapped in a tiny, black cami and the smallest black shorts that hug the plushy soft of your thighs. He must’ve been staring for too long, because when his eyes finally snap back to yours, you’re staring right back at him. Amused.
"Didn't think your definition of a relaxing night was spectating, Shou’." You huff a laugh, settling the nail file on the coffee table once his feet finally enter the room.
He offers you a tranquil smile as he lifts his shirt over his skull, “That so bad? That I wanna appreciate my gorgeous, smart, adoring wife?” He questions, tossing his top over the armrest of the couch. Baring his stout body to your curious eyes.
Shrugging, you open your arms. A quiet invitation.
"You can appreciate me physically."
A smile pulls at the corner of his lips. He'd be a damn liar if he said he wasn't looking forward to this. To you.
The cushions dip and Aizawa crawls over your body with the grace of a feline. Not predatory. Worshipful was best fit.
A hushed sigh slips from your husband’s lips as he rests the side of his cheek over your breast, fluttering his crimson eyes shut as tension decays from his muscles. Not wasting a moment, you glide your fingers over his inky locks, fondness swirling through your body when he twitches and lets out a satisfied sigh.
Then a noise rumbles throughout his body.
A low purr. He can’t count the days he’d been looking forward to this. To you.
He nuzzles further into your cleavage. “I just want to enjoy you. Haven’t gotten a moment like this with you in two months, sweetheart.”
Your head dips, planting a chaste kiss to his forehead as the vibrations from his body travel over to yours. He lifts his head with dialated pupils. “I need to know. How have you been,” he shifts, completely dwarfing your body with his own. “With me being absent, and all.”
You hum. The purr his body emits tells you he was vulnerable. Naked. Happy.
“Well.” You start, mirroring his softened eyes. “For one, I got my nails done.”
You bring the sleek of your palm to his face. Aizawa’s crimson gaze flit accross the pink shade with curious, but satisfied eyes.
“Cute. You always did love pink.” He murmurs. Nose bumping against the tip of your nail before he pokes a small kiss to it.
“Anything else?”
You run your nail over his lower lip as a new memory teeters over your tongue.
“I’ve gone out a few times, went to a few … clubs.” You admit. But Aizawa wasn’t the type of man to lack trust in a partner. Especially you.
“A few clubs eh?” He grumbles, peppering more kisses over your neck and up the underside of your jaw. His locks tickling your skin.
“Could’ve sent me a few photos. You know how amazing you look when you doll yourself up.”
“Do I not always look amazing?”
“Don’t start.” Aizawa leans in, his lips closing over yours. You relax immediately, tongue slipping over his own as he shifts himself to sit onto his haunches. Eventually hovering over your upper thighs.
You watch your husband dip beneath your jaw and peck at your collar bone. His messy locks grazing against your skin while he explores the routes he’d left untouched for so long.
“I can’t say it enough, but…” you giggle under your breath as his ear tickles your neck. “I really missed you. Even when I’m proud of all you do I…”
He blinks slow, like a cat expressing affection. Idly biting the inside of his cheek, he waits for you to finish.
“I just wish I you could fall asleep beside me every night. Like, before those dorms were policy.” You breathe. Finally pushing out that quiet burden you never bared to the surface.
Aizawa blinks, digesting your vulnerable words.
Finally, his hand slips aginst the pillow, and cups your soft cheek. His thumb stroking tiny circles into your skin.
“I knew you were keeping in more than what you were telling me.” He murmurs. Watching your face soften into a tiny smile.
He offers a broken smirk of his own.
Then, his free hand glides over your stomach. Down your shorts, and hovers over your crotch. With two fingers, he gently pats over your clothed crotch.
“How’s she been without me, huh?”
Your thigh jumps. You hadn’t been touched by Aizawa in so long, it nearly felt foreign.
Your head shakes with honesty. “Dry.”
Aizawa snorts. A bittersweet response on his end. He didn’t want to leave you with an itch inside you that he could only scratch.
He quietly hooks his fingers onto the elastic of your pajama shorts, poking his tongue into the inside of his cheek.
“You don’t have to…” you start, sensing uncertainty.
“I want to, sweetheart. How long as this pussy gone uneaten?”
He’s serious. You feel the subtle twitch in his pants as his lower half rests against yours. And the look in his eye made it clear he wouldn’t reevaluate his decision.
You scout his expression a while longer before silently nodding. Anticipation boiling beneath your skin.
Aizawa hums. Prying your shorts down your knees and off your ankles with gentle precision.
Pink panties. A classic.
He doesn’t waste another second wafting his thumb over the line of your puffy lips. Softly prodding through the top and grazing the clothed hood of your clit. You bite your lip as electricity sparks your stomach.
“See? You don’t even remember my touch.” He murmurs in thought.
You can’t help the way your thigh instinctively parts when he starts to map your inner lips through the cotton fabric. Eventually, his head sits between your thighs as he shuffles down the couch. It was long enough to fit both his and your bodies (bless Aizawa’s double income).
He hums, placing an unchaste kiss over your inner thigh, eyeing up your reactions as he scatters your skin with affection.
“You’d better make up for lost time,” you huff with sportive undertone. He cracks a smile against your thigh when your fingers dip into his mussed hair.
“I’ve never failed to make you come before. Don’t underestimate my skills.”
His tongue laps over the fabric of the panties—a test. Then he begins to eat you through the garment.
You let out a quiet moan, Aizawa uses his fingers to keep your thighs parted. Watching his spit and your moisture soil your own panties with satisfaction. The outline of you looked delicious under the light, he felt himself twitch in his pants.
“Can I see?”
“Mhm.”
He pries the panties aside. Enjoying the sight of your pussy, gone too long without his touch.
“There it is. My stress reliever.” He swipes his tongue from the rim of your hole, up to the hood of your clit. Bare, naked. Listening to your happy moans, he finally puts his versatile fingers to use and uses his thumb to softly circle the bud that rests snugly above your slit. Then he leans in and wedges his tongue inside.
God, he missed this pussy.
Missed it so much he couldn’t help the grunt that escapes him when he properly tastes you.
“Oh my… god,” you breathe, listening to the wet noise of Aizawa gently munching on you. He’s not usually a messy eater… but he misses his wife. And when he misses his wife, he atones for his absence
Even if it was something intimate and small, like performing oral on you.
“Wan’ me to fuck you with my fingers?” he questions, voice muffled with the effort of tonguing your gummy walls.
“Mhm, please,” you whine, thighs squirming under the firm grip of his free hand. “Fuck me ‘Zawa—mm, no, I need your cock.”
“Not until you squirt on my tongue.”
His response is rhetorical. Your pleasure comes first. A silent rule he engraved into the relationship even when it was first starting its embers.
With hazed eyes, you peek down at him. He spans his big palms over both your inner thighs to spread them further, then he inserts two fingers. Your face twists in pleasure, he prods around until he finds that spongey weak spot, exploiting it until you’re crying out.
Crimson eyes watch you writhe as Aizawa pleasures your gorgeous cunt. Your face and the way your body twists steal his breath so easily, he could marry you 80 times over and still not tire of it.
His fingers exit you with a quiet ' pop! ' While you protest at the loss, he settles on his haunches. His heavy bulge visible as he twirls his finger in gesture.
"Hands and knees. Wanna make all of you feel good."
Rolling onto your stomach, you mange a breathy giggle. "You greedy man."
"Starved. Now show me that cunt, pretty."
You don't even get the chance to breathe. The second you raise the fat of your ass, Aizawa uses his big hands to grab each cheek and drag you back to his insatiable tongue.
His nails mark crescent moons into your skin with his tight grip, Aizawa sloppily grinds his tongue from the tight ring of your ass back down to your eager lips. He murmurs a low 'so fucking good,' that goes unnoticed when you moan over him. Your back arches beautifully, and that's how Aizawa knows your nearing the end.
"Missed you... s’much." You sob, squealing at the feeling of him jamming two fingers through your slit rapidly.
Your slur makes his grip ease. You're so sweet, even like this.
“I know, sweetheart. Let me make you come,” caressing the globe of your ass with a hand, he makes a silent note to himself that you were upset about your time apart.
His tongue darts out to his soiled chin while he angles his fingers, a wet ‘squelch!’ ‘squelch!’ ‘squelch!’ Bouncing accross the walls in the living area as your thighs start to tremble. His nose grazes against one of your cheeks, planting a soft kiss to the soft fat as he focuses on coaxing a mind numbing orgasm from your body.
You don’t even get to warn him. Your brand new nails claw at the arm rest of the couch as you spiral off the edge. You spray, layering his forearm and chest with fluid as you squirm and shudder under the pressure of an amazing orgasm. Something Shouta knew how to expertly pull out of you.
“There you go… so fucking pretty.” Aizawa coos, hushing your whines with strokes along your spine and low praise. His teeth lightly bite into his lower lip as he watches the aftermath; soft panting, the sight of your soaked thighs and the tiny smile you were hiding in your forearm. It all made for a sickly sweet meal that had him pulling you into his arms, smothering the side of your face with apologetic kisses.
“Too rash? Can you do another round sweetheart?” Aizawa questions while you rest against his scarred chest. His hair tickles your shoulders as he leans down and kisses your temple.
Craning your face up to meet eyes, you offer a serene smile. One that he considers therapeutic.
“I said I wanted your dick, didn’t I?” You flutter the daint lashes that flourish your eyes, strength flowing back to your legs. He couldn’t be anymore proud — squirting and then pleading for dick. What a sweet girl he has. No—you have him stretched and skewered around your finger.
Giving you a moment to breathe, he gathers your limp body into his arms and stands without haste. Carrying the both of you over the the bedroom.
“You are insatiable, you know that?”
“You corrupted me.”
His hooded gaze doesn’t stray from yours as he nudges the bedroom door open with a foot, settling you onto the mattress.
There’s something placid about the moment. You voicelessly study his body; the newfound scars that cloak him, his growing stubble and the undeniable lust in his vision.
He shakes his head ever so slightly, because yeah. He fucking wishes he'd get this every night. The banter, the touching, the silent intimacy — what he wouldn't give to have you content like this. Aizawa splays your knees outward to have a non-obscured view of that perfect pussy. Moon kissed with the light that darts through the window and glistening with your past orgasm.
Fuck.
He could eat you out all night, if he really wanted to. But if you wanted dick, dick is what your husband would give you.
"Condom?" He asks, withdrawing his hands to shed his jeans until they pool at his ankles.
You glimpse over your knee and look at him incredulously. You always insist that you're on the pill, yet he's always preaching about responsibility. He snorts to himself.
"Alright, then.."
After fishing his cock out his boxers, he drags the heavy, warm weight along your cunt. Quietly observing the way you squeeze around nothing.
"Shou'..." You whine when he drags out your anticipation.
He hums, having half a mind to make you gag on his middle and ring finger. He wants to be tender tonight, to make love to his wife.
So, he continues to guide his tip along your slit until it catches on your opening — then he slowly guides himself in until you swallow his bulbous tip. You shudder at the familiar feeling, going so long without it that it felt foreign. He soundlessly observes your expression before he pushes more of himself in.
Eventually, the back of your thighs meet the pubic follicles on his pelvis. Aizawa mutters a tiny ‘ fuck ’ as you take him so snugly into your pussy.
He hadn’t even begun moving, and you’re already cock drunk. Your knees on either sides of your ears as Aizawa folds you into a deeep mating press.
“I—shit, Shou’. Please.” You whine. You don’t know what you’re pleading for, but you hope he delivers.
With Aizawa’s locks hanging into your face, he slowly grinds his hips up into yours. You’re mewling, unable to tell one feeling from another as he mutes you with a kiss.
This position forces your knees further against your shoulders — challenging your flexibility as he drove deeper into your body.
“You always take it so—fucking—good,” he accentuates his words with 3 hard thrusts, making you whine and claw for a grip on something. Eventually finding purchase on his back.
He’s grunting, now. Drilling into your poor, overstimulated cunt with calculated thrusts. To stabilize his body, he grips a fist onto the headboard. And fucks you into the sheets. His chest swells with pride when you cry out in ecstasy.
“My sweet girl. Gorgeous fucking wife,” he mumbles a barely coherent string of compliments.
He falters, pressing a large hand on your lower belly. He knows it’s a hard hitter for you, and he never forgets to do it when you’re fucked dumb.
And how right he is, when your orgasm gets swept from beneath your feet. Aizawa curses, sheathing himself balls deep and slowly spilling his seed into your womb. You mewl out a long stream of ‘ thank you ’’s while you milk his cock for all it’s worth.
He's absolutely hypnotized as he comes down from his high. Studying the way his semen beads down to your ass and forms a white ring where you're both connected. He's convinced, right in that moment, you have him under a spell.
He hunches over your body, gently coaxing your legs to fall back into place. Placing lazy pecks to your skin as you settle back into reality.
“You okay?” He questions, pawing at your waist to guide you into his chest. You nod in response, too fucked out to use your tongue for literacy.
Your hands absently trace the muscle of his shoulders as you hold each other, his pale skin stained with red lines caused by your nails.
“I lied.”
You lift your head in curiosity. He's already looking at you.
“This is one of UA’s break weekends. I’ll be back for 4 days.”
You smile, twirling a lock of his black hair between your fingers.
"I knew that."
'Min.
Armin and you return home after a run-in with your ex, Reiner. Your 'Min never gets jealous, really! He's just a little frustrated, but...you'll just have to make it up to him.
CW: NSFW + handjobs, slight manipulation, jealousy, dirty talk, dry humping the slightest angst.
WC: 1.8k
“You know I don’t like it when you do this, ‘Minnie.”
Armin spares you a glance over his sun-kissed shoulder, fingers fumbling the buttons to his blazer open. Eyes drawing back to his task at hand without so much as blinking in response.
“Do what, dove?” He finally questions.
Armin removes the fabric with fluidity—though the subtle white in his knuckle made it evident just how tight his fists were.
You gesture toward him, knowing he’s prancing around his own emotions. Hell, if he had as much emotional capacity as his buddy, Eren, he’d be frothing at the corners of his mouth. You know Armin long enough to know what his body suggested, even if he didn’t express his emotions through his tongue.
Wasn't the first time something like this happened.
Pulling the fuzzy white sweater over his head of blonde, he spares you a crafted glance. Baby blue irises fixing on your skeptical face with a tiny smile.
“You’re doing it. The… masking thing you do. What’s the issue?” You breathe. You hadn’t the slightest clue why he was acting like this over such a minuscule interaction.
Oh the gall you must have to question that to his face, Armin thinks.
Just an hour prior he and you were on a cozy trip to Armin’s little haven, the local library that sold the vanilla latte’s he liked. Cozy it was, when he smiled after you questioned his favorite titles and reached up to graze your pretty lips against his cheeks.
Real cozy.
So cozy that the universe decided he was having too much of a good fucking time, when your attention was rudely directed to Reiner Braun. An ex of yours that you broke away from on 'good terms', or as you claim.
Of course, Armin would never be the type to treat you as some possession.
Armin wasn’t some asshole, of course he wasn’t! He's your sweet little 'Minnie.
But he couldn't help the way the tip of his nose turned an irritated red when he noticed you laughing at every little thing that came out of Reiner's stupid mouth. Armin felt like some spectator in the moment instead of your sweet little 'Minnie.
Armin bore through the conversation with a duvet expression— and it was then that you finally noticed his silence. Eyeing his stiffness, you quietly excuse yourself from Reiner as Armin opts to leave the building. The comforting scent of books and old pages turned into an irritating plume of jealousy.
Armin didn't get Jealous, though. He was just a little frustrated.
He kept his pink lips and face tight knit on the way home, even when you quietly run a finger over his cheek—which never failed to get a giggle out of him—He only acknowledged your touch with a passive smile.
"Dove, I’d never mask anything from you," Armin starts. Voice ever so slightly altering an octave as he spoke on. “It’d eat me up alive… But I just didn’t like the way Reiner was looking at you.”
At that, your brows crease over your nose.
You took two steps before you were hovering beside him. Resting a few fingers on the milky skin of his arm as you attempt to get a grasp of his expression.
“ ‘Min, me and Reiner ended on good terms. He has a girlfriend now. You know th—“
“That wouldn’t matter much the way he was gawking at your backside.” Armin interrupts. Finally angling his head toward your face.
You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.
As he sat on the edge of your shared bed—you poked your tongue into the inside of your cheek.
“I would know. He wasn’t looking at me like that.”
Armin raises his gaze from his fingers undoing his shoes to your eyes. His lips fixed into a tight, flat frown.
“I would know. I’m a man, just like Reiner. And what I know is that he was staring at your body, y/n.”
Silence wafts over the room. Armin seems to stare straight through your soul. As if daring a rebuttal.
But you weren’t having it either. It was a simple conversation between you and a past relationship, so why was Armin so worked up over it?
“I think you’re overreacting. You’re taking this small, normal thing and stretching it into this big, unnecessary fucking issue.” You gesture, pinching the thin skin between your brows with your forefinger and thumb.
Armin nearly gawked at you. Overreacting? Unnecessary?
"Do you not trust my judgement, dove?" Armin breathes in disbelief. Why were you defending Reiner so hard? Usually, you always had an open mind when you listened to his—not so often— troubles.
“ ‘M not saying that, ‘Minnie. I’m saying there’s nothing for you to wrack your mind for. I and Reiner are friends,” you settle beside him. The mattress dipping to accommodate to both your weights.
Armin, shirtless, opts to stare at you. At your pretty, stupidly cute face that he wanted nothing more to scream at. How could you downplay his feelings when he was attempting to give you criticism? To distance you from that piece of work Reiner Braun who was swinging a bigger dick than he was his brain.
“Why don’t you listen to me, dove?”
It was more of a statement than it was a question.
Your face slightly falls at his words.
“Of course I do.” You breathe. Armin averts his eyes, getting comfy as he lays down onto his side of the bed. Blankly gazing up at the ceiling.
Did you really did invalidate his feelings? You begin to run over your choice of wording as you settle the smooth of your back against the burgundy headboard. Fingers rested over your thighs.
In the storm of silence, Armin’s baby blue eyes flit over to your face.
The pale moonlight peaking into the room lit up his expression just right. Exaggerating the pink of his natural pout and the slight rise and fall of his chest.
“Some days I wonder if I’m just some jester for you, dove.”
It was only a whisper, and it was enough to shatter your heart.
A thicker fog of silence deafens the room, Armin rolls to his side with his back facing you, and reaches for the blanket to drape his skin.
You, however, gaze at the back of his head.
Armin’s lips, non-visible to you, were softened into a satisfied smile. He’d gotten you to feel bad. Warped your head around your judgement for Reiner and how shitty your choices made him feel.
“ ‘Minnie..”
Your fingers, though hesitant, reach out and run along that lock of dark blonde hair that stands out on his head.
Hovering over his shoulder, your eyes peer in an attempt to look into his own as you lean down. Lips grazing against his cheek for a moment before you pull back a bit. He hadn’t moved, but he hadn’t pulled away either.
“I love you. You know I do and— I’m sorry if I made you feel like that. I just…” you swallow, Armin shifts his head to look at you with softened eyes.
"Your feelings were never just some chore to acknowledge. I love you, I do."
Armin quietly scans over your expression. His button nose twitching as your hand rests against is cheek. You're sorry, he can see that. Good.
"You love me?" Armin questions. His voice barely a whisper as he leans himself into the gentle touch of your hand.
"I never stopped."
"Prove it."
You both engage in a lengthy stare. You break it first by resting each of your pillowy thighs on either side of his hips. disheveling the sheets.
"Make me feel good, Dove."
You figured. It was unhealthy, but a good fuck helped calm Armin's emotions. It was the case for this and a few other occasions. Despite that, you rest your crotch over his. Hand resting around the column of his throat, feeling his adams apple bob beneath the skin of your palm ever so slightly.
His bunny teeth dig into his pale, pink lower lip as he feels you create friction between your and his body. rolling your hips just enough to make the blood rush from his face, to his boxers.
" 'M sorry for being mean to you, 'Minnie. I'll... try not to talk to Reiner, okay?"
"You won't ." Armin remarks.
"What?"
"I mean, you won't?" Armin adjusts his tone. Eyes puppy soft and pliable. Watching you shift his sweats down with baited breath. Armin had been so busy with his studies in Marine Biology, he hadn't had the time to enjoy you. So he was already semi-hard when you fish him out of the fabric.
Shifting on your haunches, you capture his lips in yours. He returns it, his tongue running over yours before a quiet hum leaves his lips. Swallowed down by your lips.
Your thumb runs over his pink, sensitive tip. He slightly bucks into your fist in response, head leaning back into his pillow as a quiet breath slips between his lips.
"This is your only cock, right? You don't have other men pleasing you, right, baby?" Armin pleads.
You shake your head. A fond smile sneaking onto your lips as you softly work his erection to it's hardest point. Standing to attention and jumping along to the beat of his heart.
"Mhm," You nod, easing his erection with languid, loving strokes, the type of strokes that weren't just some quickie. Pre beads up at his slit before you slick it over his length to create a comfortable friction for him. He was panting, now. It was barely audible, but he made up for it with quiet, frequent whines.
"You won't pull that again, right? That really hurt m-my feelings, dove."
"I won't, 'Minnie."
You lay beside him, coaxing him to face his back toward you. Wrapping an arm over his waist, you continue to milk him while being the big spoon.
Armin loves this position. He gets to feel you wrapped around his body while you pleasured him from the front. It made him feel like a captured bunny in the best way possible.
"Can I cum? I know it’s quick, I just... I missed you so much baby."
"I know you did. C'mon, come on my hand 'Minnie." You lean over his shoulder to peck the cuff of his ear before he spills himself all over your fist, his stomach, and the sheets.
His cock gives a couple of weak, spent throbs as he muffles himself with his pillow. His Blue eyes fogged with a thick mist as he settles from his orgasm.
You smile against his neck, bringing your soiled hand to your lips. Armin watched you taste his spent, his cock giving a weak throb in response.
"I love you." He breathes through his post-orgasm. a faint smile spreading across his face.
You chortle.
"Love you too, Minnie." You reciprocate, using your non-semen-covered hand to gently pinch his cheek.
And that was all that mattered to him.
A/n: Debut post how we feeling :D