the concept of "personal property" is foreign to your roommate. what belongs to him and what belongs to you simply does not exist in the vocabulary of his.
so when you enter your shared apartment after a grueling nine-hour shift, you already recognize the rhythmic buzz echoing down the hallway. it’s the exact same sound you’ve confronted him about three times this month.
you march down the carpeted hallway and throw the bedroom door wide, not even bothered to knock because he certainly didn’t ask permission to breach your space.
and there he is, your thoroughly infuriating, completely shameless roommate, sprawled across your duvet with those absurdly long, pale legs monopolizing the entire mattress. his glasses are askew on his face, the lenses clouded from his own ragged gasps as he rubs your favourite wand's head against his sensitive cockhead—smearing his sticky pre-cum all over.
“gojo!” you snap, your delivery flat and dripping with unadulterated irritation. "you are doing it again?!"
he lacks even the basic decency to look up from his own groin, refusing to acknowledge your presence at the foot of your bed. his chest heaves under an oversized anime t-shirt, hips giving a needy little twitch as the rattle of the motor continues to pleasure his nerve endings. he rolls his head back into your pillows, letting out a shaky, wet moan that sounds nearly pornographic.
“shh… wait a sec,” he pants, his voice thick and raspy; a world apart from his typically fast-talking cadence that usually annoys the shit out of you. “i'm almost there. don’t be mad, it just… it feels so much better than my hands…”
you’ve had the boundary talks. you’ve threatened to lock your door (which he can bypass anyway). you’re tired, your feet hurt, and the audacity of him sitting in your room, treating your personal drawer like his own candy shop without an ounce of shame, makes your blood boil.
you stride over to the bed, and before his overstimulated brain can register the sudden movement, you reach down and wrench his hand away from his grip, sending the toy clattering onto the floorboards.
“hey!” he whines, a petulant, spoiled-brat pout instantly forming on his lips as his eyes finally dart up to yours. “i was literally right there! c’mon, that’s just cruel—”
unable to tolerate his dumb whining a second longer, you drop to your knees beside the mattress and clamp your hand around the bottom of his cock with intentional force. before he can even puff at the sudden restriction of his blood flow, you raise your other hand to land a stinging slap directly across the pink flesh of his tip with a loud smack!
satoru gasps, his spine arching off beautifully as his body spasms from the impact. his vivid blue eyes are now blown wide, blinking rapidly behind his spectacles while a miserable whimper spills from his plush lips. "do you think you can just use my things because you are too lazy to buy your own?"
to penalize his arrogance further, ensuring the lesson sinks into his imbecile brain, you squeeze your thumb and forefinger around the tender skin beneath the swollen mushroom head and pinch, using enough force to guarantee a lasting red mark.
the reaction is instantaneous. the agony of the nip, combined with another slap across his aching dick, pushes his nervous system into overload. satoru releases a startled shriek, his hips thrashing desperately as he tries to wrench his hips away from your horrific grip, thighs jerking against the sheets in a futile attempt to escape the blinding pain.
but your hands are unrelenting, and the torment only accelerates the climax. his cock throbs spastically as if its trying to communicate something using morse code before he erupts.
thick, pearly ropes of cum shoot straight up, splattering across his own flat stomach and the hem of his shirt, dripping down the pale skin of his abs.
“oh god—” he groans, voice cracking as his upper body collapses back into the pillows, the sudden impact knocking his glasses off his nose to land sideways on the mattress. he looks like a total wreck; his mouth hanging open, a thin strand of saliva bridging his lips as he stares up at you with dazed, dilated pupils that consume his baby blue irises.
even as the intense peak subsides, his hips give one final, weak roll against your hand, and he possesses the sheer nerve to smile—a lazy, unrepentant smirk forming on his stupidly handsome face.
“do… do that again,” he whispers, breathless and shameless as ever, cocking his head like an overly enthusiastic bunny. “slap it again for me..?”
an - tmi! I wrote this while in the tub before the idea could go away 𓁹‿𓁹
❤︎ Fratjo! who constantly skips his classes and goes to party’s, and after stops by your room to find you studying for a test he assumed you’d definitely help him on ⊹˚.
❤︎ Fratjo! who can’t help but plaster a stupid smile on his face whenever you tell him off for smelling like alcohol and punch while lounging all over your freshly washed bedsheets ⊹˚.
❤︎ Fratjo! who likes to tease you and take off your glasses just to put them on himself, so he could see you stretch and reach over him while he catches you in hold you cant possibly break out of . . . ⊹˚.
❤︎ Fratjo! Who acts dumb and asks you to explain certain math questions just so he can hear you nerd out with the slight excitement edged in your voice while solving them. ⊹˚.
❤︎ Fratjo! Who has a keen eye for spotting when you’re getting burnt out, always so persistent on dragging you out of your dorm and into the nearest party—just to end up on a random couch stroking your hair and listening to you talk about a new hyperfixation ⊹˚.
❤︎ Fratjo! Who likes to wait for you outside of your classes to publicly and embarrassingly show you affection, no matter how many times you claim to hate it, he just can’t keep his hands off you ⊹˚.
❤︎ Fratjo! Who doesn’t care what his friends say about you or your study habits or why he’s exactly into you in the first place, always ready with a firm, “Are you the one dating her? Didn’t think so.” ⊹˚.
❤︎ Fratjo! Who unconditionally loved his nerdy girlfriend and her nerdy perks since the very beginning! ⊹˚. ♡
sae luvs being a tease content | nsfw, afab!reader, bf!sae, sae a whore wow
aw, are you mad at sae again? giving him the silent treatment because he made another mean quip at you?
well now he’s walking around the kitchen with no shirt on. his sweatpants hung low on his hips, showing the mind-numbing v-line that always drove you crazy.
he knew what he was doing. you sat on a stool at the kitchen island, your eyes tracking his movement as he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.
his slender soft eyes met yours. “what’s wrong? i thought looking at me made you sick to your stomach?”
his hair was perfectly soft. he didn’t have his bangs hairsprayed back. just maroon tufts perfectly tousled with. gosh, and his eyes were boring into you — his pupils were slim and wholly on you.
he knew what he was fucking doing.
“it does,” you respond, looking back down at your phone.
but from your periphery, you can see as he — blatantly and obviously — begun adjusting his dick in his sweats. his hand palmed himself completely as he grabbed his fabric-covered cock briefly.
fuck.
“right,” he hummed, his eyes already off you as he began padding out the kitchen with his bottle of water.
fuck. his back. the contouring of his muscles that scandalously cascaded along his skin. like every dip and curve and line of him was designed to get your mind buzzing. if only you could swallow your pride and jump on him right here right now. your thighs trembled as you felt your cunt slightly start pulsing.
usually, before bed, sukuna slides his hand down your panties, placing his large hand over your mound and keeping it there. why? whenever you build up the courage to ask, he simply just shoots you a sharp glance, saying "it’s warm. stop asking questions, woman."
imagine his surprise when he mindlessly slides his hand down, only to feel you were completely bald down there this time.
you’ve never seen sukuna so genuinely confused. his usually bored, irritated expression had faded, eyebrows raised in curiosity.
"brat, where is it."
you look over at him, shrugging. "where’s what?"
he feels around a little more, double checking, nope — not a single hair. “don’t play dumb with me, woman. the hair. where is it."
you were just as confused as he was. did he really love your bush that much?
“i shaved it?…" you respond, watching a slight frown form on his face, similar to a grumpy cat — honestly, anyone else would look at him and assume his entire family had been killed or something.
in your defense, you just felt like changing it up, assuming he wouldn’t care much at all. if you knew it’d affect him this much, you wouldn’t have plucked even a singular hair away.
"why the hell would you do that," he growls, his initial confusion quickly turning into irritation. “put it back, i don’t find this amusing."
you can’t help but let out a soft giggle, feeling sukuna pull his hand out from beneath your panties, two arms crossing in silent annoyance like a kid who’d just had their candy stolen.
"kuna’, it’ll grow back… i didn’t realise you liked it so much," you smile, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. his expression remains the same, though he doesn’t push you away, silently accepting your affection.
"don’t let this happen again," he demands.
"awwh! you miss it," you tease, poking his chest playfully. he catches your wrist in his hand, grip demanding, yet not firm enough to hurt.
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