Poni

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."

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."

“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.