Mmm Yes Please - Tumblr Posts
college roommate fwb bakugo x fem!reader 18+
“Are you guys dating or something?”
You would sooner reply with ‘or something’ than deny, but the rational part of your mind always interfered. Katsuki had asked you long ago to keep your little... relationship secret, arguing that it would only fuel your friend's teasing and gain the public's unwanted attention. These were all fair reasons, so you found yourself agreeing without a second thought.
Once you get rid of the metaphorical cotton in your mouth, you reply, “No, we're just friends.”
But ‘friends’ don't bend you over their desk, the kitchen counter, or the bathroom sink. They don't plow into you like they've been dying to feel your soaking cunt wrapped around their dick all this time. And they most definitely don't whisper sweet nothings in your ear while their hands roam your curves, the ones they've memorized like the back of their hand.
Friends don't use each other's bodies like you and Katsuki do. Roommates don't spend the night in each other's rooms, bare and entangled to the point where you aren't sure where he ended and you began. At first, it was just a means to destress from all your college workload; no kissing, just pure, impersonal sex, usually from the back and happening as quickly as possible. You guys were trying to blow some steam, not catch feelings.
But things have definitely changed over the year and you weren't sure how to feel about this arrangement anymore. You were lying on the couch one day, aimlessly scrolling through your phone when the door to his room slammed open — a daily occurrence, given the spiky-haired man's flickering temper.
What you didn't expect is having him stomp over to plop on top of you, burying his face in your chest while his arms snuck around your waist. He's gotten more physically affectionate since you first started living with him, but it never failed to surprise you whenever he'd seek comfort in your presence. You had an inkling you'd never get used to it, not when your traitorous heart thumped so aggressively in its confines that you were afraid he might be able to hear it.
“Did something happen?” you mumble, feigning nonchalance as you continue scrolling on your phone, much to his dismay.
“No,” Katsuki replies gruffly, nuzzling further into your plush chest.
To that, you quirk a brow and tilt your phone to the side, eyes settling on his carmine ones that were already studying you. Struggling to fight the blush creeping on your cheeks, you inquire once more, “Did Kiri beat your ass in Mortal Kombat again?”
The blond pushes himself up, staring at you with newfound anger at the mention of his friend, “That bastard has to be cheating! I swear, I press every button as fast as I can and he still wins. It's insane.”
A giggle slips past your lips before you can stop it. “Or he's just got faster fingers. Don't beat yourself up too much, 'Suki. It's just a game.”
He doesn't seem to appreciate that response, because he drops his full weight on you out of nowhere, huffing while essentially squeezing the life out of your poor body. You squeak and smack his broad shoulders to push him away, phone falling to the ground in the process.
“Katsuki! You're heavy!”
“Kiri has got faster fingers, huh?”
“Well, he beat you, didn't he?”
“That doesn't mean anything.”
“It does, though!”
You writhe helplessly beneath him and laugh at the stupidity of the situation. Is he seriously mad that you said Kiri had faster fingers? He didn't usually get jealous, so you couldn't understand why exactly it bothered him so much. But you'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy seeing him like this, teasing you with that ridiculous grin on that extremely kissable face of his. It was kind of endearing and also annoying at the same time and it vexed you beyond belief.
“Get off me, you fiend!” you say between giggles before one of his hands reaches up to squeeze your cheeks, pushing your lips out which instantly shushes you.
“Say my fingers are the best and I'll get off.” His offer was doable, however, you had the bad habit of not listening to get a reaction out of him. You wouldn't call yourself a brat, but...
You go limp under him, chest heaving from the exertion of trying to push that beast of a man off. “They're average at best,” you say, the words coming out muffled from the strong grip he had on your cheeks that kept you from smirking.
“Liar,” he huffs, voice dropping as he leans down and stares intently at your puffy lips, still sticking out from his grasp. Forcing the admission out of you by sealing them with his plump, eager ones.
It's sloppy, given that you can't quite move, but he works through it. His tongue tangles with yours quickly after it sneaks into your mouth, swallowing your little noises of protest. You didn't mind his kisses, you could never, — in fact, you've begun to crave at least one a day — but you did mind his insanely muscular body crushing you.
You try pulling back, only to have his mouth follow yours ardently, melding to its shape. The simple action makes you dizzy, messily returning your tongue to his while cupping the back of his head, fingers brushing over the trimmed tufts of hair on his nape. Katsuki is anything but gentle when it comes to making out, mostly because it's his way of showing how much you truly mean to him. Words fail him any other time, but not when the two of you make love or lock lips. It's something akin to a raw, unfiltered yearning that has your mind reeling, wondering if this is how all friends with benefits act. You know it's not.
“C'mon,” he groans into your mouth, shifting so as to not hurt you, “Stroke my ego a little.”
A breathless giggle fans over his lips and he fights the genuine smile that pulls at them, offering a rather awkward one instead. “Isn't it big enough already?”
Katsuki smirks, his nose nudging yours while raising a brow. “I don't know, you tell me.”
You fight the urge to roll your eyes, settling on just pushing his shoulders a little harder than before. “Pervert. Fine, your fingers are the best. Happy?”
He gazes at you for a while, drinking in your features. Staring at you is one of the things that makes you feel flustered the most and he knows it, which is why he often uses it to his advantage. Although truthfully, it's simply become a force of habit now to admire your features.
“What about my dick?” he plays the intense eye contact off with a joke, blatantly ignoring his racing heart.
“Oh my god, Katsuki, really?”
“Well?”
“I'm not answering that!” You successfully shove him off, sitting up while he catches himself on the opposing armrest and chuckles. God, he sounds so good when he laughs, you want to punch him.
Huffing, you pick your phone up from where it had been discarded on the ground before stomping away. You don't get far, his hands snaking around your waist to pull you onto his lap in a feeble, yet successful, attempt to prevent you from retreating to your room. The realization that you didn't fight it because you wanted to spend more time with him makes your stomach feel fuzzy; his bad jokes, gruff behavior, and all simply draw you in further. It makes you rethink your whole friends-with-benefits arrangement, chewing thoughtfully on your lower lip.
“Hey, stop that,” Katsuki says sternly, aware of your lip-biting habit, “Stop thinking.”
Begrudgingly, you glance sideways at him, a small pout on your lips that he can't resist kissing away. His toughened palm finds your cheek, cupping the soft skin lightly and tracing your cheekbone with his thumb. The position is less than ideal, but you try your best to kiss him back, although it's more or less sloppy. He likes it best when it's messy, like you're reaching for his lips out of pure desperation and it's the hottest thing he's ever seen. He opens his eyes midway through, observing the face you make when you think no one's watching you. When you're being kissed senseless.
You claw at his bicep, unable to stay twisted that way any longer without the raging back pain following your early adulthood. He has the audacity to laugh against your lips, then leans back and places his arms casually on the backrest of the couch while you move to straddle his lap.
“Want a massage, nerd?” the blond teases and you bite at the side of his neck to shut him up, a low hiss escaping his throat from the unexpected, yet welcome, pleasure.
Trailing open-mouthed kisses up his neck and onto his jaw, you huff. “As if you're faring any better.”
His bold hands have no problem slipping under your shirt after so much teasing, pawing at the mounds of your chest. “Unlike you, I go to the gym. Sorry, sweets, but I'm in prime condition.”
“Don't call me that,” you find the sweet spot that has him immediately groaning, abusing it with your teeth until you feel his hips involuntarily buck up into yours, drawing a grin from your lips.
He had no idea how he managed to make you straddle his lap and kiss him into oblivion, but he wasn't complaining. If anything, he was very thankful for it, wanting nothing more than to destress after his little ‘fight’ with Kirishima.
“Why? You like ‘doll’ better?” you suck harder, a purple mark forming on his skin that eggs you on. “Baby?” that one pet name has your breath hitching, which doesn't go unnoticed by him.
“Guessed it on the second try,” he gloats and you just bite him harder, earning a growl out of the overly confident man.
His fingers fall to your hips, digging into the exposed sliver of skin between your shirt and pants as he guides your movements in rhythm with his.
“So? Anyone caught your eye?” you inquire while leaning back, rolling your hips just perfectly to make him see stars for a brief moment before your question finally reaches his ears.
A quirked brow creases his forehead as his half-lidded eyes scan you, an undecipherable expression on his face that you wish you could've read. His movements don't falter, though, and neither do yours. It's much easier to talk while drunk on each other, after all.
“Why are you asking?”
“Just curious.”
“‘Just curious’, my ass. Out with it.” A hard smack is delivered to your rear and you flinch from the impact, moaning a little too loudly for your liking.
But you don't press on, choosing to grind against him faster, to make him forget about that seemingly out-of-nowhere question. He grunts and throws his head back and much to your dismay, completely stops your movements with the same hands that guided you just seconds earlier. You curse under your breath. He never stopped you quite like this before and you scold yourself for asking something so dumb in the first place, knowing it probably bothered him now.
“Tell me, Y/N,” the use of your name is scarce, so you know it must've really riled him up.
Before you can nip your bottom lip again, he cups your jaw and drags it away from your teeth with his thumb, your heart fluttering at his thoughtfulness. Fuck, your heart fluttered.
“I...” you gather your words with a deep inhale, “I think we should stop this.”
“What the fuck do you mean?”
“Kissing. Fucking. I don't want to do it anymore.”
“You had no problem with it just a few seconds ago,” there's an undeniable shakiness to his voice when he leans his forehead against yours, heaving a small sigh, “What's wrong?”
“I can't...” you weigh your words carefully, heart hammering in your ribs. It's now or never. What you say next will ruin your friendship no matter what. But you let it out like a prayer, whispered into the silence of your shared apartment, in the intimacy of your proximity, “I can't stop myself from falling in love with you.”
It's quiet. It's so quiet you can hear your every breath, every thump of your rhythmically beating heart, every creak of furniture adjusting somewhere that seems so far away now. Because his hold on your hips falters and you flinch, prepared for the worst rejection of your life. Because a shaky exhale slips past his lips and his hands force you to face him head-on — ruby eyes communicating what a thousand words couldn't.
But his lips seal the deal. Unlike any other time you've kissed, he molds his lips to yours slowly, gently, as if afraid you'd disappear if he gets any rougher. And it's like he's been waiting for much longer than you could comprehend to hear you say those words from the passion he pours into the kiss alone, amplified by his hands mapping the wings of your back as if you're an angel and you don't get it, you don't understand why he's pulling you in, not pushing you away—
“Thought you'd get it by now,” he licks your swollen bottom lip, “I love you, dumbass.”
Oh.
© chocogoldie 2024.
a/n: very short thing i came up with today that is probably all over the place! (i'm sorry) will start working on those requests as soon as i get some more free time 🫡 not edited nor proofread
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