"Here, I keep them on hand for the kids," Nanami says, handing Nobara a hairband from his pocket.
First comes Nobara's question. "Kids? Plural?"
"Nanami! How many kids do you have?" Yuji's voice rang out as Nanami stood beside Gojo, watching the first year students train.
"Four," The blonde haired man responded simply, checking his phone. A text from his beloved wife. He opens it with little hesitation. One picture, their little five month old daughter laid on her mother's chest. He smiles.
"Four kids?" Nobara asked in surprise.
"Four daughters," Nanami corrected her without glancing up from his phone. A second picture. His twin daughters, three years old, had drawn something together that his wife had sent him a picture of.
"Don't you get tired of all those girls in the house, Nanami?" Gojo asked, throwing an arm around Nanami's broad shoulders.
"No." Nanami responded, scowling. "Why would I?" He checks his watch with shimmery pink nails, the work of his eldest daughter. Underneath his brown business shoes and black socks held up by sock garters, his toenails matched, the same shimmery pink.
"Four kids and not one son?" Yuji asked, his big brown eyes gazing curiously at his teacher.
"Aren't you at least a little disappointed?" Gojo asked, cocking his head at his coworker.
"My genetics determined that we had daughters. I love them all dearly." Nanami spoke, shoving Gojo off of his shoulders.
"I have four daughters, and they look almost exactly like my beautiful wife. I'm more concerned about all the boys I'll have to fend off of my doorstep than I am about only having daughters." Nanami said proudly, a soft smile making it's way onto his usually stoic face.
"Now, if you don't mind, my wife says dinner will be done in 20. Have a nice day, everyone." And with that, Nanami Kento leaves, a big smile on his face. He can't wait to get home.
౨ৎ satoru's mouth runs a mile a minute, especially when things get intimate.
it's a constant stream, sometimes coherent, often just utter nonsense. and it starts the second any skin is revealed, not even after the main event. his blue eyes will widen, a soft gasp escaping his slightly parted lips.
a dreamy, swoon-like sigh will flutter from his throat, a delicate pink dusting his cheeks. "oh, you're so, so pretty," he'll murmur, punctuating the words with soft kisses against your bare chest, his tongue leaving a wet trail over your perky nipples. "incredibly pretty. beautiful. no, gorgeous. actually, ethereal."
you manage a soft thank you, your brows furrowing with building anticipation. for what feels like an eternity, he's been teasing you, a relentless dance on the edge. the slick head of his cock bumps insistently against your clit with every subtle shift of his weight.
he just keeps talking, a breathless monologue about how perfect you look spread out beneath him, how impossibly lucky he feels.
you're seconds away from snapping; that he'd feel a hell of a lot luckier if he'd just slide inside already.
"sato, c'mon," you finally whine, a desperate edge to your voice. "ple— please, just…"
"i am, i am," he coos, a lazy smile stretching across his features. "just give me a minute to properly appreciate m'girl."
you huff out a frustrated breath, giving him a pointed look that clearly conveys your dwindling patience. "you've had plenty of minutes already."
but then, finally, he presses the tip against your slick entrance, and the anticipation spikes. he sinks in slowly, stretching your tight, wet walls with his thick length, and he's instantly undone.
his thrusts are never gentle or rhythmic, but rather urgent, greedy slams, as if he's desperate to absorb every sensation, every inch of you, in that single moment.
"fuck, you feel so good wrapped around me," he pants, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "no— no one takes me like you do."
his eyes are glazed over, pupils blown wide with pure sensation. a sheen of sweat glistens on his forehead, and his hands roam your body restlessly, eventually settling on the curve of your waist, his thumbs digging in possessively.
"i can't— god, i think i could come just like this," he groans, leaning down to nip at the shell of your ear, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. his fingers slip lower, finding the swollen nub of your clit and rubbing against it in tantalizing circles.
"s'wet," he breathes, his voice a husky whisper. "do i do that to you, huh?" it's not even a practiced dirty talk, you realize, just his unfiltered, lust-filled thoughts tumbling out.
as satoru's climax hits, a shuddering wave that ripples through his entire body, he's literally thanking you, a broken, hiccuping sound escaping his lips. his head falls heavily into the crook of your neck, and you kiss away the tears that squeeze from his tightly shut eyes.
satoru pulls away, just by a little, gazing at you with big, blue eyes. "i think— i think we should get married."
when fratboy!satoru takes your virginity you kind of expect him to be an ass about it. he's cocky as it is, and has a habit of gassing himself up too much when it comes to his... skills in the bedroom. if you're not listening to him talk about how he's the strongest, you're listening to him talk about how he's the biggest.
being the only virgin of your friend group was starting to grate on you and... a small part of you might've wanted to find out if there's any bite to satoru's bark. it's not like the two of you were dating or anything, but you felt comfortable enough to walk up to him one day during lunch and ask, in front of his best friend:
"will you take my virginity?"
maybe you expected him to blush. or freeze up. or at least trip over his words. but instead, the stupid white-haired prick looked up at you with the most relaxed expression possible and shrugged.
"okay."
and that's how you ended up here, sitting criss-cross applesauce on his messy dorm-room bed with his tongue halfway down your throat. a few empty cans of beer and abandoned cheat sheets lay strewn over his floor, and you hate yourself for letting this be the backdrop of your entry into the sex-having life.
but you can’t hate yourself for long because as he runs a hand up your thigh and under your skirt, you start to feel more excited than you thought you’d feel. he pushes you back, slots his knee between your thighs and bites at your bottom lip before trailing down to your throat.
still, it’s satoru, so when he pushes your panties to the side and feels just how wet you are for him, he laughs. “you get this wet when you touch yourself or is all of this just for me?”
“shut up,” you groan as he nips at the skin of your throat and gently runs his finger through your folds and up to your clit. you’re surprised he knows where your clit is, even.
and he’s not wrong—you’ve never been wet like this before. you can feel just how damp the fabric of your panties are you as satoru pulls them down your thighs and hikes your skirt up to get a clearer look at your soaked cunt.
“pretty,” he licks his lips. “wannna taste her, that okay baby?”
his eyes search yours for consent and you’re stunned for a moment as he waits for ‘enthusiastic consent’. you didn’t expect this sort of check-in from a frat boy. your nod seems enthusiastic enough to him, but just for clarity—“use your words.”
“yes. please, gojo.”
“satoru,” he corrects you. “want to hear that name when you cum on my tongue. cant believe no ones tasted her before.”
the use of referring to your pussy as ‘her’ is odd but quickly overlooked when he delves into your pussy like he’s dehydrated. tongue flat against your heat just to flex and circle around your clit. he sucks and bites a little and pulls you to your first orgasm in nasty speeds.
you cum on his tongue whilst his eyes bore into yours from between your thighs. white hair pulled out of his face by your hand as you tug the strands in hopes that he’ll stop licking at your overstimulated clit. it takes until you’re shaking for him to finally pull back and free his angry cock from his pants.
you think you gasp when you see it. he said he was big but you didn’t think he was a truthful man in the slightest. his cock is so heavy it doesn’t even stand at full mast—it fights gravity. satoru sees the look on your face and instead of sporting a shit-eating grin like you expect, he climbs over you and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.
“let’s stop here?” he asks. “we could watch a movie. oooh what about die hard?”
you giggle, your nerves melting a little at his words. “i’m okay, i want this. i am not graduating as a virgin.”
satoru snorts and, after rolling a condom on, gently pries your legs apart enough for him to slot his wait in between them. he guides your ankles to link behind his back and slowly runs the tip of his cock through your slick folds. “tell me if you need me to stop,” he says. “just relax. i’ve got you, baby.”
you actually manage to relax a little, focus on the feeling of being stretched as satoru slowly pushes into you until his tip is completely hidden in your cunt. it’s uncomfortable, but not unbearable. “keep going.”
one of his long fingers dips down to rub soft circles over your clit to relax you a little more as he pushes deeper. you’ve never felt so full, so sore yet desperate for more… you wonder if it’s always going to feel like this, or if it’s just because satoru is the one breaking you open to find pleasure in your insides.
he lets out a pretty moan as he bottoms out inside of you, the weight of his heavy balls resting against your ass as he stills and catches your lips in a wet kiss. his tongue slips into your mouth, runs over your teeth and pushes against your tongue as he slowly draws out of you and then, with a grunt that you taste, snaps his hips forwards into you.
that hurts, but there’s an odd stitch of pleasure in the way he’s broken you open. “sorry,” he speaks against your lips. “it’s better that i just got it out of the way, it can start feeling real good soon. gonna make you cum on my cock, baby. you want that?”
you nod, eyes staring into his as your foreheads meet. satoru nods back, licking his lips and smiling. “yeah? you wanna be stuffed full, huh? always knew you were filthy. but i’m the only one that gets to see it.”
his arrogance pulls at your lips. “until i fuck the next guy.”
snap. his cock splits you open at that, and though you wince and screw your face us, you’re letting out moans made for porn too. his finger on your clit starts working a little faster as he draws back again just to drive into you even harder.
“no,” he dips his head down to bite at your neck. “not until you fuck the next guy. i mean you can try, baby, but it’s not happening.”
“ngh, what do you mean?”
another thrust into you sends you further up the bed. you’re sure you look a mess but satoru looks down at you with such wide blown eyes that you could be convinced you’re from the heavens. “not giving you up that easy,” he groans. “you know, i fucked someone last week just because they had your name. got to moan it without being slapped. again.”
your hand flies up to his chest, almost in an attempt to slow his now mean pace. “wait you—ngh god—you like me?”
“i’m far fucking past like,” he moans, hips starting to stutter. any discomfort has faded into glorious pleasure. your stomach starts to tighten again and you know you’re close enough that he’s going to try and time your orgasms. “you’re so perfect. so much better than i imagined.”
your eyes roll back a little at the thought of satoru fucking his fist late at night to the thought of you. how nonchalant he was when you asked him to take your virginity, you wonder if he went home last night and stroked himself to the sheer anticipation of being inside of you.
“satoru i’m gonna—”
he cuts you off with a deep kiss. it’s sex and want and lust, but it’s also soft in a way you can’t describe—maybe even a little anxious after his confession. it might just be his pending orgasm, but you swear his lips tremble between yours.
his cock throbs as he drills it into you, hits your most sensitive spot with every single thrust. it’s like he already has you mapped out, because you’re both cumming in tandem with each other before long.
a part of you aches to feel his cum spill into you instead of the condom he wears, to be claimed and filled by his seed over and over. would he fuck it back into you? clean you off with his talented tongue? would he plug you with his cock until he’s ready to overfill you with a second load?
he moans into your mouth and pulls back a little to revel in your fucked out expression. your legs still wrap around his waist, boxing him in and keeping him close. you worry that in typical frat boy fashion he’ll make an excuse and run off to recount the fuck with his friends. but satoru pecks at your lips, then your chin, then down your neck again.
“what are you doing?” you ask, vision slightly blurred from the intensity of your orgasm.
“gonna make you cum again,” he smiles against your skin. “didn’t you hear?”
“hear what?”
he pulls back to look at you, a soft smile pulling at his pretty lips. “that if you cum at least five times when you lose your virginity, you’ll fall in loooove.”
in fact, you should've known he was playing a game the instant that text blinked onto your screen: pick your daughter up from his place, not school. a casual oops, totally forgot it was your day! that sent a shiver of unease down your spine.
what choice did you really have? the entire drive to that too-familiar house, your nerves were a tangled mess. pulling into the driveway, parking crookedly in your haste, the only thing screaming in your head was this used to be ours.
this small, unassuming house, a world away from the sterile grandeur of his old penthouse. the first grand gesture of your marriage had been this new place.
"the bigger the house," satoru had murmured against your bare skin that first night, "the further i'd have to be from you." so, your mornings had begun with tangled limbs and hurried kisses, and your evenings had ended in the same breathless way.
it had been the kind of dizzying happiness you foolishly thought would last forever. but then the cracks had started to show – the endless work trips, the hollow promises of things changing. he had gotten better, ironically, after the papers were signed.
satoru stood in the doorway, that infuriatingly charming, utterly knowing smirk plastered across his face. your gaze darted around the living room, a quick, almost desperate search. "where's she?" you asked, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.
his reply was a casual flick of his wrist. "oh, she's at a friend's."
a harsh scoff escaped you. arms crossed tight against your chest, you scoffed, "what? why? i drove all the way out here!"
"you were coming anyway," he purred, those soft puppy-dog eyes locking onto yours. "i can bring her back later. thought we could, you know… catch up."
"catch up?" you repeated, incredulous. "are you serious right now? we're not catching up, satoru. we're divorced."
but those eyes. they always had been your undoing. and somehow, against your better judgment, you found yourself agreeing to this ridiculous "catch-up." you'd pictured awkward small talk over lukewarm tea, maybe a stale cookie.
not this. not being bent in a cruel mating-press, his body a brutal, insistent press against yours, fucking you with a desperate hunger that stole your breath and any semblance of rational thought.
"god, it's been so fucking lo- long since i felt this," he grunted, his hips slamming into you with a possessive force that made you cry out. "this tight little cunt clenching - shit - around me like that."
"ah, 'toru," you gasped, your fingers digging into the hard muscles of his back, clinging on for dear life.
"been even longer si- since i heard you say my name like that." his sweaty bangs were plastered to his forehead, a flush creeping up his neck. his pace was relentless, each thrust deeper, harder, a raw, primal need driving him. he hadn't touched anyone since you, didn't want to.
tears streamed down your face, a messy mix of pain and something dangerously close to pleasure. and that bastard, your soon-to-be-not-ex-husband-anymore, thought you looked beautiful. his thick cock stretched you, filled you completely, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.
"did you miss this, huh?" he muttered, his voice thick with lust. "because i fucking did. bet- bet no one else makes you feel like this."
a choked whine escaped you as his teeth sank into your shoulder, a stinging sensation hitting. you can't think of a response, literally. you can't even think of your own name - you can't remember.
all that mattered was the way he was making you feel, the dizzying spiral of sensation. and in the name of "catching up," he makes you come, at least half a dozen shattering orgasms ripping through you before he finally relented, burying his face in the space between your tits.
he looked up at you, panting, a triumphant smile playing on his lips. "so… about moving back in?"
you’re swaying slightly in the doorway when nanami opens it, your coat half off your shoulders and your cheeks flushed a little too brightly.
“there you are,” he says gently, stepping forward to catch you just as you start to wobble toward him. “i was about to come get you.”
you blink up at him, eyes wide and a little dazed. then, suddenly, you grin.
“whoa,” you breathe, pressing your hand to his chest. “you’re… wow. you’re really handsome.”
nanami raises an eyebrow. “you’re drunk.”
“yeah,” you admit, nodding sagely. “drunk and lucky, apparently. do you—” you squint at him like you’re trying to see him better. “do you have a girlfriend?”
he lets out a quiet breath, something almost like a laugh, and takes off your coat. “no. i have a wife.”
your eyes go comically wide. “you’re married?”
“yes,” he says, amused now, “to you.”
you stare up at him, stunned—and then your face just lights up.
“really? i married you? holy shit. i did so good.”
you throw your arms around his neck without warning, nearly knocking both of you off balance, but he catches you easily, holding you close as you giggle into his shoulder.
“you’re so warm,” you mumble. “and strong. and you smell nice.”
he hums, steadying you with one arm while slipping his shoes off with the other. “come on, sweetheart. let’s get you to bed.”
“bed with my husband,” you say dreamily as he scoops you up. “i have the best husband. i think i’m in love with you.”
he carries you down the hall, voice quiet and fond. “good. because i’m very in love with you.”
you’re already falling asleep when he tucks you in, but you still manage to whisper, “i’d marry you again. like. right now.”
and nanami just smiles, brushing a strand of hair from your face.
Title: It’s What I’m Here For
Pairing: Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Female Reader
Summary: Deep in the throes of your heat, your body finally gives out- boneless and pliant in your Alpha’s arms. But even in sleep, you still crave him.
A/N: my entry for @avengers-assemble-bingo for April Kinky Bingo. In same ‘verse as Mine. Always (Set earlier in their relationship before the bond)
Square: C1 – Somnophilia
Card Number: KB003
You had finally gone quiet.
After days wrapped in heat, soaked in scent and pleasure, your body had given out-limp and warm against his chest, thighs still slick, your cunt fluttering weakly in your sleep. You were wrapped around him like you couldn’t bear to let go. The nest was a mess-blankets tangled, pillows kicked down near the floor, everything steeped in your shared scent. The air was thick with it now, heavy and cloying and perfect. It smelled like the two of you: slick and sweat, Alpha and Omega, satisfaction and hunger all at once.
He should have rested. Should have closed his eyes and followed you down into that deep, hazy oblivion. Maybe even gotten up. The snacks you’d hoarded-protein bars and fruit, energy chews and juice pouches-were all the way across the room, tucked in that little basket by the dresser. He’d meant to grab one earlier, maybe coax something into you between rounds. But right now? Sleep mattered more. You were safe and warm.
Later, he told himself. He’d make you eat something later.
But then your hips twitched.
You’d started to squirm a little, even in your sleep-your skin growing hotter again, that flush creeping back into your cheeks and chest. He could feel the heat beginning to rise again, your cycle not quite done with you. And your body knew where the relief was. The way your hips rocked against him, slick already gathering again, it told him everything. Bucky’s nostrils flared, the scent of your arousal dominating once more. It made his head spin-rich and dizzying-and his cock throbbed, swelling hard again with the need to fill you.
Bucky exhaled slowly, eyes tracing the curve of your spine, the shine between your thighs. You made a soft sound-a whimper, barely audible, then murmured something the pathetic little mumbled word falling from lips.
“...’lpha...”
He tilted his head, trying to see if you were awake. Your eyes were still shut. A lazy smirk spread across his lips-you were just too damn cute like this.
“Even in your dreams, huh?” he whispered, the edge of a growl in his voice. “Still need me. Even now.”
Carefully, reverently, he wrapped his arms around you, shifting just enough to ease you from your position on top of him. You whined softly in protest, a sleepy little fuss as he moved you. But you didn’t wake, not fully-just squirmed and sighed, clinging loosely as he guided you onto your side. He curled around you from behind, his larger frame fitting perfectly against your back, His flesh arm tucked under your neck, while his metal one wrapped tightly across your waist, the cooler surface brushing over your skin.
Once settled, he let his hand drift down, gently spreading your thighs just enough to slot himself between them. Your scent hit him full-force, cloying and sweet and so fucking good. Slick coated your skin, helping him slide between the plush heat until he was nestled right up against you, the sponge tip of him nudging against your clit.. little moans coming out with your breath.
“Shhh,” he breathed into your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Just me, sweetheart. Just your Alpha.”
Bucky pulled his hips back and adjusted his angle before he slid into you slowly, carefully. There was no resistance-your body welcomed him like it always did, clenching down even in sleep. If Bucky had thought your skin had felt warm, your cunt was a fire-wet, molten heat that wrapped around him and dragged him deeper. It was heaven. It was home. You gasped in your dreams, hips rolling in response, like your body was guiding him exactly where it needed him most.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “Good girl. You always take me so good. Can’t even stop, can you?”
You let out another soft sound-his name again, maybe, or just a broken sigh. His heart pounded. His grip tightened.
“Just still so fuckin’ sweet for me. So damn needy like this."
He kept his pace unhurried, languid, like the motion alone was worship. Instead of resting his forehead to your shoulder, he turned slightly, letting his lips trace the curve of your neck-warm, damp breaths skating over your skin as he breathed you in. Each stroke was measured, careful, meant to soothe more than stir.
But you stirred anyway.
A faint gasp. A shift in your breathing. Your hand twitched over the one he had now pressed to your lower belly. He could feel himself inside you; deep and full, every slow drag pressing your walls apart until you were fluttering again around him.
He groaned, soft and low.
“You’re dreaming of me, huh, baby?” He pressed his mouth to the shell of your ear. “Can feel me in your sleep. So wet, so open. You know who you belong to, don’t you? Fuck, m'always so hard for you, omega-can't help it when you're like this.”
You whimpered. The barest whisper of sound-but it shot straight through him.
“...alph-ah...”
Bucky pressed deeper. Stayed buried. Held you like you were something breakable and sacred all at once.
“Mine. Mine. Mine.”
You gave a soft, whining little noise-barely there but unmistakably needy. Your body bent ever so slightly, hips canting, and Bucky felt the faintest cramp ripple through your muscles, that telltale little clutch of need. Even in your sleep, you were still aching for more. His hand shifted up, palm flat over your heart now, feeling its soft thud under your skin as your breathing quickened again.
“Shhh, let me take care of it,” he whispered. “You don’t have to do anything. I’ve got you. Just feel it, baby.”
He kept fucking you slowly, steady and deep. One hand slid up to pull you tighter against him while the other tilted your chin just enough for his nose to brush over the space where your mating mark would go-right where it should be. He nuzzled there, breathing you in, his lips ghosting across the sensitive spot as he dragged his tongue across it, tasting the salt and warmth of your skin. You whimpered again, hips instinctively pressing back into his, like you were begging for that claim even in sleep.
“Not yet,” he murmured, voice rough and full of restraint. “But soon. Soon, baby.”
You let out the sweetest sound-half moan, half breathy sigh-as his pushed deeper inside you. He groaned, gripping tighter as your body pulsed around him, clenching like you had been waiting for this even in your dreams.
But then… your lashes fluttered. Your breath stuttered. A little frown twitched between your brows.
“Shhh,” he murmured instantly, lips brushing your temple. “It’s okay, ‘mega… I got you.”
Your fingers twitched gripping one of the blankets under you. Your hips tried to shift, confused. Too tired to fight the sensation, too fucked out to process it-but your body still knew, wanted to be on all fours..
“Shh, no, no. You don’t gotta wake up, sweetheart,” he whispered, voice so soft it was almost reverent. “You’re tired, I know. Let me do it for you.”
His hand stroked over your belly, warm and heavy. The other cradled your jaw, thumb brushing your lips as he nuzzled in closer.
“I’ll fix the ache. I’ll take care of you. Just let go…”
You whimpered softly, head turning toward his voice-but your eyes stayed closed. Your body eased again, instinctively trusting him. Submitting in sleep, in breath, in bond.
Bucky exhaled, sinking fully into the moment as he held you close. He slowed his hips, adjusting the angle until he was fully buried in you, the tip of his cock pressing right up against your cervix with each lazy rock of his hips. Every movement was deep, indulgent, meant to soothe and satisfy rather than provoke.
“God, Doll,” he murmured, “so warm inside... feels like you’re trying to pull me in even deeper.”
One arm held you tighter while the other grazed up your side again. He leaned in, dragging his lips in a slow, heated trail from your shoulder up to your ear before nuzzling behind it. His nose brushed lower, breathing you in greedily before his tongue followed, lapping at your scent-marked skin like he was trying to taste the bond into existence. He moaned at your taste, at the way your body fluttered around him from just that small stimulation.
“Such a good girl, good ‘mega” he whispered against your neck. “That’s it. Just rest. You’re mine. I got you.”
And as your breathing slowed once more, heart steady under his palm, Bucky kept slowly fucking you, hips rocking in deep, steady motions. He couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to. Not when you were so soft and pliant in his arms, not when you leant bonelessly back into him with every push. Your body clenched around him suddenly, tight and fluttering, and his breath hitched-he felt his knot begin to swell, responding instinctively to your need.
“Oh that’s right, ‘mega,” he groaned, mouth brushing over your jaw. “Let’s get you there... feel that ache, huh? Let me help you. Let me make it better.”
“Gonna cum for me?” he whispered, voice thick with heat. “Even like this, boneless and sweet in my arms… you still want it, don’t you?”
You were his world, the other part of him-and when he got like this, when your scent was thick and your heat was high, you were his obsession. There were times Bucky swore he got drunk on your heat, on the way your body begged for him even when you were barely conscious of it. It made him ravenous. Mindless. Utterly devoted.
“T'take my knot even in your sleep? Gonna squeeze me while I breed you? Make a mess on my cock like you always do, yeah?”
The words seemed to stir something deeper in you. More little sighing moans slipped from your lips, hips moving with his in lazy, desperate rhythm. His needy mate-even too tired to do anything but let him do exactly what you needed.
“‘S what I’m here for, omega,” he murmured, kissing along your neck. “I’ll always take care of you.”
And then you tightened around him again-more insistent, more urgent. Bucky gritted his teeth as your body clenched down hard, and he pushed his hips forward, grinding in deep until the thick swell of his knot forced its way inside.
He buried himself to the hilt, tip kissing your cervix, and his mouth latched onto your shoulder as his knot locked in place. The sharp, possessive growl that rumbled out of him was muffled against your skin as he came-hot, endless spurts of seed flooding into you, spilling deep and thick.
You twitched in your sleep, your body reacting instinctively, a faint cry escaping your lips as your cunt fluttered and pulled around him, milking him even as you slept.
He held you tight, one hand flat over your belly, the other curled around your chest as he breathed through it, both of you pulsing, twitching, bound.
“There we go,” he whispered, voice softening as he began to soothe you. “All better now...”
His hands stroked gently over your sides, slow and comforting, as your body settled around him. The aftershocks faded into a quiet hum, your breath evening out. He felt the tension ease from your limbs, the twitching subsiding as you melted back into the safety of his arms.
This time, he let himself go with you. Wrapped up in the warmth of your nest, knotted deep, your scent still clinging to his skin-he finally closed his eyes.
summary: your heavenly perfume catches ellie’s attention on the bus, and she can’t help but stare.
(university! ellie; implied femme reader; third person limited to ellie’s pov)
a/n: i’ve been writing for years and this is my first published fic ever lol .. kinda nervy but i hope you enjoy it!
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Ellie Williams was drenched when she finally got on the bus that drove to and from the student housing complexes — drenched and shivering and exhausted. She had been on campus attending her back-to-back lectures all day (Tuesdays were her worst days) without so much as a thirty minute break between classes, and was beat by the time she got to the bus stop. It didn’t help that it was the peak of December, just before finals and winter break. That meant bone-rattling storms that almost shook the shitty old university buildings — which were definitely in need of some TLC, by the way — and Ellie’s overused umbrella getting fucked up with the rain and wind beating it down.
She closes said umbrella as she steps further into the bus, attempting to shake off as much water as she can from its tattered waterproof fabric before glancing up to scan for a seat.
Just my luck, Ellie thinks to herself with an internal sigh, finding every possible seat occupied by one of her equally drenched, shivering peers. She moves over to the side of the bus where there were already a couple of students standing and holding onto the cloth handles hanging from the roof of the vehicle. Ellie opts to squeeze the handrail instead, waiting for the bus to start moving. A few stragglers come in, and the bus finally departs from the station.
Someone moves to stand between Ellie and another student, cramping up the already tight space. Ellie’s about to scowl in the student’s direction when the scent of vanilla and cinnamon hits her nose.
Holy shit, she blinks, inhaling as deeply as she can without looking odd and/or slightly off-putting, Someone smells like a damn bakery.
She dares to spare a darting glance sideways at the person standing next to her … then a second, then a third. There was no doubt in Ellie’s mind that the girl who stood there, leaning into the condensation-riddled window of the bus and gazing down at the small, tattered paperback book in her hands with her old-school wired earbuds in, was the person who smelled so divine. She looked just like she smelled, nice and warm and pretty and yummy and —
Ellie inhales sharply, looking away and biting the inside of her cheek. Her hand comes up to tuck a loose, damp strand of her choppy, auburn hair behind her ear, gaze trained on the view outside through the foggy glass bus door that was right across from where she stood. The sight of the rain pouring down onto the dark, dampened streets of her little college town distracts her for a while. She waits for a few moments before stealing a longer glance at the girl and taking her in — from her long, perfectly manicured fingernails and mixture of dainty and chunky rings to the bootcut jeans she wore that somehow managed to hug her in all the right places.
Ellie feels a bit intimidated by how put-together the girl looks, by how different the two of them are appearance-wise. Her own nails are short and blunt from her nervous habit of chewing on them, and her clothes are baggy — wide legged jeans that are soaked at the bottom hems from walking through puddles all day and a zip-up hoodie with rolled up sleeves to show off her sick new tattoo. But Ellie really, really, really wanted to talk to the girl. She wanted to ask her about what she was reading, about what she was listening to, about what perfume she was wearing and about how the hell she managed to look so pretty after being out in a rainstorm.
She’s definitely straight, Ellie deflates slightly, pressing her teeth into her chapped bottom lip and furrowing her eyebrows, deep in thought.
Ellie doesn’t even realize that she’s still staring at the pretty, nice smelling girl until she’s met with a pair of eyes and a small, confused smile. She freezes up, enthralled by the new angle of the girl’s face.
She’s looking at you …
She’s looking at you! Look away, dumbass!
Ellie clears her throat and whips her head back to face the door of the bus in front of her, blinking fervently and internally cursing herself as she tries to play off her staring. It’s too late, for sure. She’s already made herself look like a creep, watching the girl while she minded her own business.
Damn it. Way to play it cool.. She squeezes the handrail a little tighter as the bus turns, trying her best not to sway in the girl’s direction as the vehicle lurches sideways. She didn’t want to draw any more attention to herself.
Ellie’s internally pouring over that slightest, faintest smile that the girl had given her when a voice breaks through her thoughts, soft and mellow.
“I like your tattoo.”
Ellie’s mind doesn’t even have the time to process the fact that it’s her, it’s the girl, and that she’s talking to Ellie and she’s complimenting Ellie and that Ellie should reply and say something and —
She turns her head a little too quickly, gaze flickering over to the girl at her side. Sure enough, she’s smiling again. She’s waiting for a response.
“Oh, uh,” Ellie spurts, tucking that damn strand that kept spilling back into her eyes back behind her ear, “Thanks. Just got it a few weeks ago.”
She takes in the girl’s silent nod of acknowledgment, heart pounding in her ear. They just look at each other for a moment. Then, the girl slowly turns back to her book, lowering her gaze and tentatively flipping a page. Her lashes fan out against her cheeks in a way that makes Ellie sure she’s some goddess in disguise sent down to earth to bait a poor mortal like herself.
“I like your smell,” Ellie blurts before her mind catches up, watching as the girl turns back towards her with a small, amused smile forming on her face. “I mean, I like the way you smell. Like, your perfume. It’s nice.”
Ellie winces internally, wanting more than anything to kick open the emergency exit and run back to her dorm and crawl under her covers and die. But the girl laughs — she laughs — and Ellie’s scuffed up boots stay planted firmly on the floor, so she doesn’t move.
“Thank you,” the girl replies, warm gaze sweeping over Ellie’s burning, freckled face. It’s obvious that her laugh wasn’t meant to be a mean one.
Ellie feels heat gather in her face and turns to look at the handrail she’s squeezing, studying it as if it were the most interesting thing on the bus. But it wasn’t. It definitely wasn’t, not with that pretty girl standing so close to her. But she can’t find it in herself to say anything else, so she just keeps staring at the handrail until the bus comes to a screeching halt.
It’s her stop.
Ellie hesitates for a fleeting moment, wanting more than anything to ask for her name or something. Instead, she lets go of the handrail and picks up her umbrella, sparing one last look at the girl — who’s too caught up in her novel to notice — before stepping off the bus into the biting wind and pouring rain.
Unbeknownst to her, the girl peeks up from her book with a small, giddy smile to watch her go just as the bus doors close.
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