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based off this tiktok and this subsequent post sorry i turned it into a whole thing and had to find a visual to match bcs jake is sexy and i want him. walk with me hereâŠ
imagine jake as your nerdy boyfriend with his annoyingly smart mouth that he puts to good use with you the same way he does when heâs studying. except heâs definitely the kind of guy to stop going down on you with that very smart mouth when his pomodoro timer goes off.
heâs probably wearing some kind of shirt where the sleeves are rolled up and his glasses are foggy and heâs enthusiastically licking across any expanse of your skin that heâs able to swipe his tongue over and honestly, itâs all doing it for you. and right when youâre abt to cum, right when heâs flicking over your clit the way that gets your legs squirming so deliciously, right when the messy, wet squelch of your juices threatens to burst, right when your wanton moans and panting turn into high pitched squeals of curses and warnings that youâre almost there because youâre there, you can almost taste it, can feel it creeping up beneath the burning of where his fingers meet your hips as they hold you down and pin you to the bed while you chase the high as it near explodes andâ
his timer goes off.
itâs a shrill noise that definitely signals something, and it would just be background murmur to you on any given point of time, but not to jake. because the minute his alarm reaches his ears, heâs immediately pulling off you, sliding the stained glasses he knows you love on him so much up bridge of his beautiful nose and plops back down on his chair to go back to working on whatever mumbo jumbo advanced physics workbook he was typing out before you both started this debauchery.
and you just stare. dumbfounded. absolutely ashamed.
because just a few seconds ago, jake had both your legs dangling off his surprisingly broad shoulders, the fabric of whatever color shirt which always fit his frame stupidly well crinkling under your heels that wouldnât stop digging into his back with how each ministration of his tongue had you shaking. you can still feel the ghost of his palms keeping you in place as heâd ravished you with nothing but that smart mouth and those slender fingers you still canât stop fucking staring at.
fuck. fuck.
jake is such a sexy fucking asshole.
heâs an absolute cocky bastard who can name complex quantum equations at the drop of a pin and simultaneously reduce you to a whimpering, heaving, flustered pile of dreadful desire for him with just a single glance at his arms.
you reckon youâll still find the imprints of his nails pink and crescent on your upper thighs the next morning, and youâll still probably think about it the next day when your mind wanders to how good he looked stalking his way over to the bed so he could pull you all the way down the edge without a word. youâll still think about the way youâd shivered under the gaze of his dilated pupils raking across each inch of your barely clothed body hidden under the same sheets youâd both fooled around in just last night. you can probably also remember the way his hot mouth exhaled next to your lips when heâd leaned in to sigh about how you were nothing but an insatiable, pathetic little toy before practically ripping off whatever was standing between his touch and your very much leaking cunt.
âsorry, baby.â his sweet voice rumbles sickeningly through the air, drawing a cold shudder from your body at the way it always reacts to him. you can hear the smirk in his voice despite not even looking at his face, unable to stop the dryness in your mouth when he barely turns sideways to cast you a glance through his peripheral. âiâll make you cum in the next break.â
synopsis: Thin walls, louder fights, and six months of pretending the guy next door doesnât set your blood on fire. One hallway shove turns hatred into a kiss that blows the whole fuse.
warnings: sexual content, rough sex, wall sex, unprotected sex, possessive loud sex, mild choking, (Bakugo bites), Bakugo says fuck every 4.2 seconds, Enemies-to-lovers, praise mix, Size kink if you squint, No condoms mentioned (practice safe sex pls), Fluff disguised as aftercare, lmk if i missed anything :)
wc: 1.8k
You didnât ask for Katsuki Bakugo to move into the apartment next door.
You definitely didnât ask for him to blast music at 6 a.m. on weekends, or for his dumbells to shake your wall every time he dropped them like a goddamn gorilla, or for the faint smell of caramelized sugar and nitroglycerin to seep under your door whenever he came home sweaty from patrol.
But here you are. Six months in, and you still havenât decided if you want to murder him or climb him like a tree.
It starts small. The first time you actually speak is when youâre both in the elevator at 2 a.m., you in ratty pajamas holding a trash bag, him in his hero costume, mask pushed up into his hair, gauntlets dangling from one hand. He smells like smoke and something sweet and dangerous. His eyes flick to you, then away.
âTch. You always take the trash out looking like a hobo?â
You glare. âYou always come home smelling like a barbecue gone wrong?â
His mouth twitches. Not a smile. Something sharper.
âWatch it, extra.â
The doors open. He steps out first. You hate that you watch the way his back muscles move under the torn black tank. That shouldâve been the end of it.
But then thereâs the night your power goes out during a storm. The whole buildingâs dark. Youâre sitting on the floor with a candle, eating cold ramen, when thereâs a knock, You open the door and thereâs Bakugo, holding a flashlight like a weapon, scowling.
âYour stupid crying was loud enough to hear through the wall. Quit it.â
âIâm not crying.â
âYou were sniffling like a damn baby.â
âItâs allergies.â
He stares at you. Then shoves a portable charger into your hand. âYour phoneâs probably dead. Donât come banging on my door at 4 a.m. when it dies.â
You take it. Your fingers brush his. He jerks back like you burned him. The charger smells like him. You use it for three days and pretend you donât notice.After that, itâs a slow war. You leave him sarcastic little notes when heâs loud.
âSome of us have jobs that donât involve yelling âDIEâ for a living. 3 a.m. is not workout time.â
âIf you drop that weight one more time Iâm calling the police.â
âNice explosion at 5:47 a.m. Really appreciated the wake-up call, asshole.â
He starts writing back in sharpie on the same paper and sliding it under your door.
âCry harder.â
âMaybe if you werenât so fucking weak you wouldnât wake up.â
âYour handwritingâs ugly as shit.â
But then one night you come home late, soaked from rain, groceries split open on the hallway floor. Oranges rolling everywhere. Youâre on your knees trying to salvage them when his door opens. He looks at you. Then at the mess. Then at you again.
ââŠYouâre a fucking disaster.â
âThanks, genius.â
He crouches, starts picking up your groceries without asking. His fingers brush yours again when you both reach for the same orange. This time he doesnât flinch.
âYou eat this rabbit food shit?â he mutters, holding up a thing of spinach.
âSome of us donât live off protein powder and spite.â
He snorts. Actually snorts. Itâs unfairly cute. You donât thank him. He doesnât expect you to. But the next morning thereâs a new note under your door.
âYour eggs were cracked. Replaced them. Donât bitch about the brand.â
Inside your fridge, a carton of the expensive organic eggs you always buy. You stare at it for 15 minutes. You start leaving him things too. A slice of the banana bread you baked. A cold bottle of water after you hear him come in coughing from a bad fight on the news. He never says thank you. But nothing you leave ever goes to waste. The tension builds like a storm.You stop pretending you donât look when he walks by in towels after the gym. He stops pretending he doesnât notice you staring.
Sometimes you catch him watching you when youâre watering plants on your tiny balcony, arms crossed, jaw tight.
One night youâre drunk. Not wasted, just soft around the edges. You knock on his door holding a bottle of wine like an idiot. He opens it shirtless. Of course heâs shirtless.
âThe fuck do you want?â
You shove the bottle at him.
âYouâve been slamming doors all day. Come drink with me so I donât commit homicide.â
He stares. Then steps aside. You end up on his couch. His place is cleaner than you expected. Smells like cedar and smoke. He drinks straight from the bottle when you pass it. Your knees touch.
âYouâre annoying as hell,â he says.
âYouâre worse.â
âYou cry at movies.â
âYou cried at the dog food commercial with the old man.â
âShut up. I had something in my eye.â
You laugh. He watches your mouth. You donât kiss that night, But youâre close, So close.
The dam finally breaks three weeks later.
Youâre in the hallway arguing about whose turn it is to take the trash down. Heâs in a black tank, sweat still drying on his collarbone. Youâre in an oversized shirt and no bra because itâs laundry day and you ran out of fucks.
âYouâre not my fucking maid,â he growls.
âThen stop leaving your stupid energy drink cans in the hallway!â
âIâll leave âem wherever I damn wellââ
You shove him.
Hard.
In the chest.
He doesnât move. Just grabs your wrist and yanks you forward so fast your breath catches.
âYou wanna fight, extra?â His voice is low. Dangerous.
âThat what this is?â
You should pull away. You donât.
âMaybe I just want you to shut up for five seconds.â
His eyes drop to your mouth.
âMake me.â
You kiss him like youâre trying to win. He kisses back like heâs declaring war. You end up against the wall. His hands are everywhere in your hair, under your shirt, gripping your thighs hard enough to bruise.
You bite his lip and he groans, deep and wrecked. He tastes like smoke and caramel and something addictive. He picks you up like you weigh nothing, kicks his door open, and carries you inside.
Clothes donât survive. He throws you on the bed and crawls over you, eyes wild.
âYouâve been driving me fucking insane for months,â he snarls against your throat.
âFeelingâs mutual, asshole.â
He laughs, rough and breathless, then drags your shirt over your head. His mouth is on your neck, your collarbone, your breasts, hot and messy and perfect.
You arch into him, nails raking down his back.
When he finally pushes inside you, itâs slow. Deliberate. Like heâs savoring the way you fall apart.
You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him deeper.
âFuckâ Katsukiââ
He loses it. The pace turns brutal. The headboard slams against the wall so hard youâre both grateful the buildingâs mostly heroes who sleep through explosions.
He fucks you like heâs trying to erase every fight, every glare, every month of pretending he didnât want this. You come first, clenching around him so hard he curses and follows right after, burying his face in your neck with a broken sound. After, he doesnât let go. Just rolls you both over so youâre on his chest, his arms locked around you like heâs afraid youâll vanish. You trace the scars on his shoulder.
ââŠSo,â you mumble,
âdoes this mean youâll take the trash out from now on?â
He snorts, fingers tightening in your hair.
âShut up and go to sleep, dumbass.â
You smile into his skin.
The next morning, thereâs a new note taped to your door.
âCoffeeâs on. Donât be late or Iâll drag your ass out of bed myself.â
You keep that one forever.
taglist: @thisismyao3
pt.2
a/n: IM SOSOSOSOSOSOSO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I HAD EXAMS BACK TO BACK IM SORRYYYY THERE WILL BE A PART 2 I PROMISE
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.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Qualityâ Free Actions
Free to watch âą No registration required âą HD streaming