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❥you & bakugo won’t say you’re dating, but there will be signs
BAKUSQUAD CASE FILES — CASE STUDY #1.
observed by — mina ashido
“y/n says she and bakugo aren’t dating. but i swear i caught them playing footsies during study hall.”
⟡
mina assumes it’s a trick of the light.
sero’s stalking hot moms on facebook. denki & kiri are trying to start a fire with a comically large magnifying glass. & when mina sees bakugo tickle your ankle with the toe of his sock, mina’s quick to assume the sight’s caused by the refractive index of light through the magnifying glass or whatever mumbo-jumbo they learned during last tuesday’s physics class.
but it happens again.
and this time you giggle.
and so mina has no choice but to accept magnifying glasses cannot bend sound.
mina puts on sero’s eyeglasses. they’re purely decorative, but she feels more intuitive regardless. she buries her nose between CGP’s A-Level biology guide & pretends she isn’t observing the way your eyes glint anytime you manage to nick katsuki in the shins.
bakugo’s face is stone still.
to the untrained eye, he’s simply solving calculus questions a mile a minute. but then he grunts.
mina doesn’t miss the way he grins when he nabs you in the thigh.
BAKUSQUAD CASE FILES — CASE STUDY #2.
observed by — sero hanta
‘bakugo swears y/n isn’t anyone special to him. so why the hell does he have her contact saved as ‘mine?’
⟡
the first time sero hanta ever decides to show up early, he’s stuck waiting at a theatre with an angry bakugo at his side.
not to say the fiery blond isn’t usually angry. but this time said anger comes with heat: he’s grinding straw between his molars so hard plastic cracks between his teeth. his feet tap like it’ll make time go by sooner. it doesn’t.
“i’m gonna kill that damn shitty hair.”
“we’re the ones who’re thirty minutes early.”
“shut the fuck up.”
dumb dog sero hanta does as he’s told. katsuki stews a little longer, neck rash red, phone clicking locked & unlocked till he decides he’s had enough—or till the anger reaches his bladder. “‘m going to the bathroom, watch my shit.”
katsuki doesn’t bother waiting for a reply. his hands shove in his pockets as he makes his way to the bathroom, phone tucked firm between sero’s palms. sero hanta knows better than to hold it with anything less than an iron grip. but then it buzzes—& almost cartoonishly, the phone hops & skips before settling between his fingers
sero sees the notification before he can pretend otherwise.
mine🫀: mina and i are otw
mine🫀 : hope we’ll make it. this girl can NOT drive.
sero muffles a snort. the text holds truth, mina cannot, in fact drive. he recalls the time she picked him up to go to the beach and—wait.
is that text from y/n?
he’s quick to take a picture, send it to the ‘inBESTigators 🕵️🔍’ GC. before he can even close his phone & resume playing saint, kiri’s response comes in.
ripped riot 🔥: could be a typo
ripped riot 🔥: like ‘mine’ could be short for miner
pikachu ⚡️[replying to ripped riot 🔥] : are we deadass
sero’s about to type a response of his own before the familiar heavy steps of steve maddens sag at his ears. katsuki’s back, jaw tight & angrier than ever.
further investigation will have to wait.
BAKUSQUAD CASE FILES — CASE STUDY #3.
observed by — denki kaminari
‘when the fuck did bakugo get funny?’
⟡
autumn break means thanksgiving shopping & black friday sales that make twelve dollar products drop to eleven ninety-nine. denki’s shopping for snacks, kiri needs energy drinks & you’re here for produce. katsuki is here because you all need his membership to get into costco.
something isn’t right.
& denki’s not talking about how the price of cheetos have somehow gone up. he’s talking about the fact that katsuki stands firm behind you, hands in pockets as you show him fruit. that’s fine—bakugo’s always been able to tell which apples are good & which aren’t.
but no apple evaluation requires katsuki to lean in that close.
and denki’s pretty sure there’s nothing funny about granny smiths either.
so why the fuck are you giggling ?
kaminari’s eyes flit to katsuki’s. if he was any other classmate, he’d say katsuki was bored. lips tight, eyes neutral, jaw slack. but denki’s no other classmate. he recognizes that twitch in his brow. the bob in his jugular.
katsuki is pleased. at least, denki thinks—no, swears he is. but just to be safe, he chooses to call in an actual katsuki expert. kirishima’s fatass is trying yet another free sample. for the sake of peace, denki chooses not to comment & instead goes straight to business.
“yo, kiri—i’m not seeing stuff, right? is bakugo not smirking and making y/n laugh??”
kirishima, in true fatass fashion, responds with a mouth filled with mini tacos. “I down’t see ‘t”
“bro. chew.”
“I don’t see it,” kiri gulps. “don’t you think we should respect their privacy?”
“we’re at a costco??”
but kaminari drops it. if the katsuki expert himself says there’s nothing, there’s obviously nothing.
right ?
BAKUSQUAD CASE FILES — CASE STUDY #4.
observed by — literally everyone
‘katsuki and y/n are definitely dating. oh, and kiri’s getting kicked from the group chat.’
⟡
mina ashido is not playing around.
the rest of the gang isn’t either. kaminari’s flipping through a scrapbook titled ‘PHOTOGRAPHICAL EVIDENCE.’ sero’s screenshotting group chat messages that sound too fond to not be affectionate. kirishima’s got his laptop open, looking over ‘evidence spreadsheets’ he swears aren’t empty.
but they are. and mina, rivaled only by sherlock himself, notices.
“kirishima, cell B-4. what’s written in there ?”
“I—uh, cell? what do you—“
“aha—” mina shuts her book. she’s towering over eijiro now, hands on her hips & glare so sharp it melts kiri like—well, acid.
“you’re not really doing anything.”
sero lifts a brow. kaminari gives the stink-eye.
“matter of fact…” mina continues, “you haven’t done anything. compiling evidence. listening in on on their convos. you haven’t done anything we’ve asked you to.”
“yeah,” sero quips. his phone’s in his lap now. “matter of fact, you always had some excuse about why you couldn’t.”
“matter of fact,” denki joins, “you’re always trying to deny evidence. talking about us ‘being delusional’.”
oh, kirishima’s in trouble now. blood in his jugular. tar in his throat. “I—“
mina can’t make up what happens next.
The door opens. It’s katsuki—not surprising—they’re literally all seated in a circle on the mat in his dorm. plans to hang out & just chill today—the usual. kiri is bakugo’s roommate. getting in isn’t a fuss.
but you’re right beside bakugo.
and your finger’s in his belt loop.
mina blinks. you haven’t noticed them yet. you look all calm and pretty, lashes low, eyes glued to your phone screen. your finger’s looped around the belt-hole like you’ve done it a thousand times before, and—
is that katsuki’s hoodie?
“what the fuck are you losers doing here?”
kiri’s already scrambling to defend the situation—something about she & the others showing up an hour early, he didn’t know, don’t blast us all—but mina’s not listening. she’s wondering if the refractive index of light is so strong it somehow made it look like katsuki gave your hand a light squeeze before tapping your hand off his jeans.
you’re still quiet behind him. hair all cute, jam-pink cheeks, fawn freckled & doe-eyed. kiri and katsuki are going back and forth. sero’s joined in. kaminari’s farted because he thinks no one will notice.
“y/n, is that bakugo’s hoodie?”
you can hear a pin drop. and another fart from kaminari.
“no, it’s—“
“it’s mine.” katsuki steps forward, hands in pockets & posture lazy like he didn’t say something scandalous. “got a problem, pinkie pie?”
“i could never.”
katsuki hums. he tugs you gently by the palm, door clicking shut behind him with the kick of his shin. he trudges toward the group, right hand in his pocket, left in yours—and he murmurs a quiet sit in your ear before doing a once-over.
“what’s all this?”
“evidence.”
“homework.”
“not evidence.”
tongue click. “evidence of ?”
“the refractive index of light.”
“you and y/n dating.”
“not you and y/n dating.”
“uh-huh,” katsuki picks up a photograph. he recognizes the scene: you’re tucked in his side, showing him something on your phone while he leans too close to be considered casual. you’re giggling here. cute.
he pockets it. “you guys are a bunch of fuckin’ idiots. and you—“ he turns to kirishima,
“no, no bro listen,” kirishima’s palm rests on his neck, an apologetic glance in your direction before he answers, “I did try to get them to leave you guys alone. they wouldn’t listen!”
“aha! so you were a traitor!”
bakugo glares. mina shrinks.
a muffled giggle pierces the silence. then a snort. & now you’re full on laughing—
“oh my god,” you sniffle, “you guys know we were literally gonna tell you, right?”
“tell us when?” sero speaks up, long moved away from kaminari. “it seems kiri here already knew about it.”
bakugo grunts. “why do you idiots think you’re here?”
oh.
bakugo takes a seat beside you. sero’s avoiding eye contact. kaminari’s avoiding the cheetos. mina bites her lip. you’re leaning over katsuki’s thigh now, photo evidence flip-book in your hands. you’re pointing out familiar photos while laughing & shaking your head, and bakugo’s looking back with a gaze so soft that mina doesn’t know how she didn’t see it sooner.
“i think we owe you two an apology.”
katsuki’s got his fingers twisting your knuckle. “y’think?”
sero, mina, and denki all look towards each other.
“we’re sorry.”
“for what?”
“for stalking you guys.”
“and not trusting that you’d tell us.”
“and being idiots.”
katsuki hums, satisfied. but he’s not done yet. he leans back on his palms before gently poking your hip. “should we forgive ‘em?”
“maybe. if they can send some of these photos.”
bakugo nods, turns to mina. “you heard the missus.”
“girl, take the whole book. like—seriously. omg.”
you hug it towards your chest, and mina can tell bakugo’s fighting a smile.
“right. and since you guys know now, you can all leave.”
the three protest. kiri interrupts. “i think it’s for the best. it’s been a long day.”
“that includes you, shitty hair.”
“huh—what?! this is my room too!”
“don’t care,” katsuki tugs you up with him, grip gentle, palm flat against your back as he steers you towards his bed.
“and didn’t ask,” he glances over his shoulder, “all of you, out.”
that one phrase “he’s right where he wants to be” makes me think of kirishima so hard with bitchy!reader.
you’re so mean. eyes narrow in a condescending manner as if those who ask stupid questions are below you. your eyes swipe over the individual with disdain, as if they’re a peasant and you’re the temple they should be worshiping. and it is so fucking—
—hot. it is hot as hell to eijrou. god, everytime he sees your face twisted up in a mean way his dick instantly swells—his face heats with admiration, adoration, and a need.
so many people ask how the hell he deals with someone like you. bitchy, rude, entitled—and he laughs and smiles it off. like it is nothing—because it is nothing.
“she’s good just the way she is,” he hums.
…and, either way, the ‘bitchy’ attitude you supposedly have flies out the door when he fucks you. thick cock hitting that spot so right that all you’re doing is pawing and whimpering at him.
kirishima who has the meanest girlfriend ever. I mean his best friend is basically the class anger issue kid.
kirishima genuinely has begun to think he just attracts natural angry people, but as soon as your with him that switches like light. You’ll be bossing him around when others are there, a little eye roll and ‘tch’ everytime someone dirty looks you. Then as soon as your alone your all over him, soft kisses on his chest on his cheek basically purring like a cat.
kirishima who would never trade you for the world his friends always complain how mean you come across, how he ‘could do better man’ kirishima shuts them down real quick.
kirishima who thinks how could he do better then you? Your a bitch sure but the way whenever hes upset you dont talk just sit next to him and brush his hair, press your soft lips against his forehead and wait for him to talk. The way you help him dye his hair when the backs uneven, the way your arms instinctively pull him closer in your sleep.
but the best thing about you? kirishima is a firm believer in happy wife happy life don’t get him wrong. But that look in your eye when you genuinely get frustrated it makes a hot pile straight to his pants.
and especially when you overhear someone judging him. Now you never care when someone says anything about you, a small huff and a turn in their direction, one comment and you watch their mouth fly open . But when it’s him kirishima swears it’s the hottest thing, within seconds your turning around pointing fingers at the person waving it in front of their face and screaming like a mad women.
Now that is the side his friends never see, how soft you can be, how sweet how defensive and well how submissive you turn as soon as kirishima has something you need.
he swears his head spins when your underneath him pleading,whining and scratching all up his back for him to put it in or for him to give you some relief.
For him to touch your throbbing pussy that’s just drooling all over the bed, waiting for him.
Yeah. Kirishimas got the meanest girlfriend but her pussy is best.
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i NEED kirishima and reader fooling around on the couch that leads to mating presses on the couch, (ugh imagine his big hands holding the tops of ur thighs while he’s pounding you into the couch) ur both super into it, right on the brink of cumming so the dirty talking is getting nasty and sweet and bakugo comes through the front door with kaminari and sero looking for kiri since he’s late to the gym <33333
ps i know kiri has nasty dirty talk bc he’s a freak & a sweetheart <3
and you’re so right about kirishima being absolutely nasty with his mouth as he man-handles youu. you’d both be having a weekly sleepover, same as always. same couch, same blanket half-kicked to the floor, same excuse of let's watch something that neither of you ever actually watches.
you've been doing this since freshman year, and somewhere between then and now, you both turned into adults with the kind of tension that lives in every accidental brush of hands, every excuse to sit a little closer than necessary. pretending. you're both very good at pretending.
"k-kirishima! s-stop!!" you laughed out hysterically, body twisting sideways into the cushions as his fingers dug into your waist. tears prickling the corners of your eyes from cackling so hard, legs kicking uselessly—like that was going to do anything against someone built like a wall.
"stop what?" he said. completely straight-faced, because he's actually evil, and you hate him a little.
you got one hand free and pushed at his chest. his stupidly wide, warm chest, pecs solid and unyielding under your palm—and that's when the laughing slowed down.
his hands went still. you both noticed at the same time. his eyes dropped to where your hand sat flat against him, then dragged slowly back up to your face, and something shifted in the low, warm lamplight of his living room.
the grin didn’t disappear exactly. it just became softer. a small, knowing tug at the corner of his mouth, like he’d clocked something he’d been waiting for.
“you good?” he asked, almost a whisper. low. careful.
your hand didn’t move.
and that was enough apparently—because the nex thing you knew his palm was curving around the side of your jaw, tilting your chin up, and he kissed you slow. the kind of slow that made your thoughts scatter like they’d been knocked off a table.
every careful, unspoken thing you’d build around the not-saying-it started crumbling the second his mouth moved against yours like he meant it, like he’d thought about it, like he had planned it.
it got away from you after that.
he kissed you until you were softly flushed, pulling at the hem of his shirt with both fists. then he dragged his mouth down your throat, found your pulse, and bit—soft enough to make you arch up into him, sharp enough to pull a gasp out of you that you didn’t entirely mean to make.
“pretty,” he murmured against your skin, and you felt it in your stomach, your thighs, everywhere.
he got your shorts pushed down your legs and paused to check in with a quiet yeah? pressed against your cheek—you were already embarrassingly wet. you nodded so fast it was almost undignified. he laughed, warm and low, and pressed his forehead to yours, as if he needed a second.
“been thinking about this for a while,” he admitted, voice raspy and honest in a way that made your chest do something complicated.
“yeah?” you breathed, shaky.
“yeah.”
two fingers slide in without much warning—meanly curling up against that sweet spot inside you while his thumb circles around your clit. working you open deliberately and slowly while you try to keep it together. you didn’t. he looked so pleased about it—watching every flutter of your lashes like he was cataloguing it, filing it away.
by the time you were dripping around his fingers, slick leaking down to the cushion beneath you, your hips were chasing his hand all needy. he pulled out abruptly just to watch you whine. “kiri—”
“i know,” he said simply. “i got you.”
he pushed his sweats down and got you repositioned—back flat against the cushions, your thighs pressed up toward your chest, your body lightly shaking. not scared. just overwhelmed with it, the weight of him hovering over you.
he pushed his sweats down and got you repositioned—back flat against the cushions, thighs pressed up toward your chest. his bulky frame blocked the lamp behind him so you were mostly looking up at the dark shape of him, his jaw, his shoulders, that subtle glint in his eyes catching the light.
“breathe,” he said softly.
he pushed in slow. every single inch dragging, the stretch going deeper until he finally bottomed out, and the sound that left you was so lewd, he felt himself tingle. his hands slid up to grip the tops of your thighs—god, his hands, so big they nearly spanned the entire width of your thighs, and pressed them back further—folding you open, locking you exactly where he wanted you.
you moaned, your voice much louder than you wanted. knees nearly at your shoulders. nowhere to go. completely at his mercy. “f-fuck—”
“there she is,” he breathed, looking down at you pinned beneath him like you were the best thing he’d ever seen.
he rolled his hips. once. slow, grinding drag outward that emptied your head completely. you felt that shift inside you, felt the thick drag of his cock against your walls, and your pussy clenched greedily around him.
“oh,” he said softly, like that answered something. “like that, huh.”
“there you go,” he murmured, starting to move. deep, rolling thrusts. perfect full thrusts, each one pushing the air out of you on the way in. you felt every vein, every inch, your slick making it obscenely loud in the quiet apartment. “taking me s’ well, aren’t yeah?”
not a question. “k-kiri~”
“mhm.” the smugness in it should’ve annoyed you. it didn’t, because he rolled his hips at a different angle, and your vision went white for a moment. he kept the same patient pace, watching your face go soft and desperate. “getting all needy already? i’ve barely done anything.”
“shut up—”
“make me,” he said pleasantly, smacking the flat of his palm directly on your clit.
you moaned out, hips jolting up into it even as you yelped, thighs trying to close around his hand and finding nowhere to go because he literally had you folded, completely pinned, thighs locked by his forearms. “s-shit... k-kiri—”
“too much?” he asked, already knowing the answer from the way you were dripping, slick smeared across his forearms.
“n-no—” you spat, glaring up at him.
“didn’t think so.” and then his thumb was there, pressing firm circles onto your swollen clit, slow and controlled, while he kept moving, kept that deep rolling grind that was making your toes curl. “you’re soaking. making a mess of my couch, pretty girl.”
your face went hot. "i hate you—"
"no you don't." his thumb pressed harder, making you gasp. "say it again... and i'll stop."
you whined at his words, tears brimming in your eyes as you continued to moan his name.
hips snapping deeper, the wet sounds between you getting worse—completely shameless, the couch creaking under you both. his free hand was gripping your thigh so hard you'd probably bruise, keeping you right there, open and helpless and taking everything he gave.
"you're so fucking tight—" rough, losing the composed thing entirely. "shit— been wanting this— been wanting inside you for so long—"
"oh my g-god~" you sob, eyes rolled back as he bullied your pussy with his thick cock.
"s' all f' me, yeah?" thumb working faster, hips snapping forward to match it. "this pretty pussy's all f' me. say it."
"yes— fuck— yes, it's yours—"
"good girl," he goraned. It was like a reward. like you'd earned it.
and then he smacked your clit again—once, then twice, quick sharp taps that had you wailing, hips bucking desperately into nothing, walls fluttering around his cock so hard he moaned through his teeth.
his thumb came back immediately after, rubbing fast, relentless circles right where you needed it while he buried himself deep, hips rolling in short, brutal strokes that hit your sweet spot over and over.
"close—" it came out broken. "s-so close don't stop~"
"i know." breathing ragged against your cheek, voice gone rough. "m' gonna fill you up— cum f' me, pretty. please—"
"please~ please don't stop—"
"never fucking stopping—" he growled, his thrusts becoming rougher, his cock completely engulfed by your dripping pussy.
the front door swung open.
"YO SHITTY HAIR, WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN? WE'VE BEEN WAITING AT THE GYM FOR—" bakugou's voice echoed through the apartment.
sero and kaminari were piled behind him. both making small talk—kaminari mid-sentence about a playlist, and sero already toeing off his shoes—none of them looking up until bakugou did.
dead silence.
kaminari made a sound like he'd inhaled his own soul.
kirishima stopped moving—hips stuttering a beat too late. you shoved your face directly into his chest while he grabbed the blanket off the floor and threw it over you in one motion. he cleared his throat. "...hey, guys."
"WHAT THE ACTUAL—"
"we'll reschedule," kiri said. very calm. clearly out of breath yet stay composed. "the gym. we can reschedule."
a long, terrible silence.
"bro," kaminari whispered. respectfully.
sero had fully rotated to face the wall. shoulders shaking. laughing—that traitor.
bakugou looked like he was personally auditing every life decision that had led him to this couch, this moment, this apartment. he pointed at kiri. retracted it. pointed again.
"three seconds—"
"katsuki." patient. gentle. still buried inside you, thumb still resting against your clit. this was genuinely insane. "door."
it closed.
muffled from the hallway: "i saw nothing" (kaminari, way too loud), "oh my god" (sero, still obnoxiously laughing), and bakugou furious and somewhat personally offended—
"i'm going to actually kill him."
you slowly lifted your face from kiri's chest.
looked at each other.
he had the absolute nerve to grin. big, bright, completely unbothered, like he hadn't just let his three best friends walk in on him folding you in half on his own couch.
"...so," he said, thumb resuming its slow circles like nothing happened. "where were we?"
featuring... ‘mushy shit’, jealousy, and feeling… incomplete? ( soon! )
. . . AND MUCH MORE TBA !
note: there's not much of a solid plot or chronological timeline hehe, all u really need to know is the synopsis above! (there may be written fics for this au at some point - we'll see)
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : zoro has always been a little messy, so what else do you expect when he gets to have his way with you?
꒰ CONTENTS ꒱ : MDNI. f!reader. mentions of alcohol, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, prone bone, creampies, mentions of spit & sweat, light choking, use of pet names (pretty baby, messy girl), mentions of overstimulation, honestly it’s just filth. — WC : 1k
꒰ NOTES ꒱ : needed to write this out because it haunts my mind. thank you for reading & enjoy !!!
reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᰔ*.ﾟ
zoro’s just so messy. it’s especially true when he drinks, the sake dribbling down his chin as he takes steady gulps of the liquid. always finishing by wiping it off with the back of his hand, and depending on how far gone he is — he’ll lick that right up too.
it’s hard not to let your mind wander when you see him like this. it’s a stark difference to the way he fights, concise with a strategy meant to take down his opponents swiftly. it’s even different than the way he can be with others. no, it’s something more pure, driven by instinct.
his tongue will dip out of his mouth, swiping his bottom lip to clean up any remaining sake before a barely noticeable smile blooms. but you see it — you always do. your ever observant eye on him has you knowing more about him that he would think.
they say curiosity killed the cat but you wonder if death could ever taste this sweet. maybe heaven was found with zoro between your thighs, sloppily running his tongue all over your clit, spitting and sucking on it like his life depended on it. acting like a man starved for the honeyed nectar only you can give him, making sure to consume every last drop, unbothered by how many times you’ve cum already.
or maybe heaven was found here — caged under his body as you lay on your stomach, his body pressed on top of yours as his overwhelming girth stretches you out more with each thrust he gives you.
it didn’t start in this position, not by a long shot. after a few rounds you had no choice but to fold into yourself. propping yourself up on all fours took a heavier toll the more orgasms you had. like a fawn learning to walk, your limbs gave out under you, falling flat onto the bed— but he didn’t stop, not that you wanted him too.
he stayed upright at first, both hands firmly set on your hips as he pulls you back onto him. even if you tried to squirm out of his hold, trying, begging to get a moment of reprieve, he can’t stop. your silken walls just felt too good wrapped around his cock. it hurtles you into another release, taking him down with you — literally.
so now, he has you in a little headlock to hold you in place, his bicep keeping a light pressure against your neck that made you see stars. you’ve lost all vocal control at this point, moans steadily flowing out of your mouth, mewling nonsense mixed with his name.
you can hear zoro speaking — feel the rumble of his voice against your back and shivering up your spine, but there’s no way you can process it right now. your eyes are rolled so far towards the back of your head you swear you can practically see the heaven you’re feeling right now.
his toned chest slides along your back, your bodies both slick with sweat from the intensity of his thrusts. every part of you feels split open by him, but you knew deep down he’d stitch you back together once he was through. he always did.
whatever he was saying before has died out into soft grunts, his lips practically kissing your ear as he presses further into you. everything felt too hot, too close, but your mind was too dizzy to care. his cock continuously pumping his own cum back into you as it kisses the spongy spot deep inside of you.
you claw and writhe against the sheets, your body trembling as your release sneaking up on you. again. you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve cum on his cock alone but judging by how disturbingly damp the sheets are, you’d say it was more than you could count on one hand.
and you just couldn’t stop shaking — your legs twitching under him, your fingers trying to find purchase in something, anything. it all felt too much, but you were right on the edge, ready to leap into the abyss knowing he’d always be there to catch you.
“gonna cum again f’me pretty baby?” he grunts out the question so close to you that you finally hear him.
he moves his arm from where it was lightly pressed against your neck as he starts to let up — his hand reassuringly grasping yours for a moment as you search for something to hold onto. he presses a surprisingly tender kiss between your shoulder blades, savoring the soft whimper you let out for him.
“please- ‘m so close!” you can barely choke the words out, each thrust he gives you has you gasping for air. you swear you can feel him all the way up in your lungs, whisking away every breath you take.
the other arm that he used to prop himself up slides down under your stomach to wrap around your waist, using it as leverage to go even deeper.
in this position, your swollen nub easily catches against the bunched up sheets that lay under you — and he knew it judging by the way he kept pushing you down against it. the game he was playing was unfair but you’d never tell him anything different, not when it felt so good.
“then cum.” he whispers, squeezing both of his hands on your supple skin as he continues driving himself into you.
with his blessing, you let go. the pleasure was mind numbing, your body locking up before releasing it in a sweet ecstasy that has you crying out his name. it didn’t take long for zoro to finish after that. frantically rutting into you, the sound of his thighs slapping against your ass fills the room as you squeeze around his cock, desperately attempting to milk every last drop out of him.
seeing you almost helplessly confined under him had him moving even faster, watching as your body bounces against the mattress from the force of his thrusts as you fight against overstimulation, eagerly awaiting for him to fill you up again. and he’d never want to disappoint his baby.
he pushes all the way inside of you, letting out a strangled groan of your name as he finishes deep within you, finally giving you what you want. you weren’t sure how many times he had come either, but you could already feel it oozing out of your overused cunt and onto the sheets.
“always so messy.” he slurs, an ounce of pride in his voice as he lays on top of you. like he’s one to talk. if you weren’t so fucked out, you’d let him have a piece of your mind. but instead, he’s gently turning you over and cradling you in his strong arms, pressing a sweet, lingering kiss against your sticky temple. he looks at you so softly the words die in your throat. he lets out a breathy chuckle, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “my messy girl.”
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your “fwb” situation is supposed to be strictly hookups, but literally no one believes you. at this point you’re convinced the universe is laughing at you. you’ll swear up and down that it’s casual, that you’re not together, that you two are “just messing around,” and people look at you like you’re trying to gaslight them.
maybe it’s the way he acts.
he shows up everywhere with you. carries your bags. stands too close. orders your drink before you even speak. puts his hand on your lower back like he owns stock in you. he’s way too comfortable grabbing your waist, tucking your hair behind your ear, leaning down to talk into your neck like it’s a private channel only he gets access to.
and you’re no better. you text him first. you laugh too hard at his dumb jokes. you let him hold your hand when he’s tired, which you pretend doesn’t mean anything even though his thumb always brushes the same spot like it’s habit. neither of you act casual. you act caught.
the funniest part? everyone already assumes you’re a couple except the two of you—the two idiots who keep insisting it’s “not that deep” while doing everything humanly possible to make it look exactly that deep.
and then there’s how he treats you after you hook up. he doesn’t leave. he never leaves. he stretches out in your bed like he pays rent, pulls you into his chest, kisses your forehead like it’s part of the routine. he falls asleep curled around you while you lie there staring at the ceiling like, yeah this is definitely normal friends with benefits behavior. totally casual. nothing to see here.
your friends roll their eyes every time he picks you up from somewhere. your coworkers call him your boyfriend even after you correct them. the barista wrote “for you & your man 💕” on your drink once.
and honestly? maybe people just see things before you do, because the next time he hooks up with you, he doesn’t bother asking if you want him to stay. he just throws his shirt back on, kisses your jaw, and mutters, “i’m getting water. want some?”
like he’s already moved in.
and when he crawls back into bed with you, dragging you against him like you belong there, the thought hits you out of nowhere—brutal, embarrassing, true: maybe everyone thinks you’re dating because he treats you like his girl.
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