#zarin writes

💋 NSFW CONTENT — MINORS DNI

character: nanami kento (professor AU)

type: smut / x reader

summary: staying late for “office hours” with your strict, too-handsome professor was supposed to be about academics. instead, your bratty teasing pushes Nanami past his limit—and he teaches you a very different kind of lesson right on his desk.

warnings: age gap (collegestudent!reader x professor!nanami), desk sex, semi-public risk, unprotected sex, degradation, praise kink, light power imbalance, size kink, suit kink, overstimulation, brat-taming, aftercare implied.

word count: ~2.7k

The classroom had emptied twenty minutes ago, but you were still perched on a desk, swinging your legs and pretending to study. Professor Nanami sat at his own desk, grading papers with his usual rigid composure, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened just enough to make your stomach flip.

“You could’ve emailed me your questions,” he said without looking up, voice clipped but tired.

You hummed, leaning forward so your skirt rode higher up your thighs. “But then I wouldn’t get your undivided attention.”

That made him look up, glasses catching the overhead light. His gaze flickered down to your bare thighs before snapping back up, sharp as ever. “That’s inappropriate.”

You smirked, kicking your heels against the desk. “So? You gonna write me up, Professor?”

The muscle in his jaw ticked. He went back to grading, trying to ignore you—but you didn’t let him. Sliding off the desk, you sauntered to his, leaning down so your cleavage dipped into view as you set your paper in front of him.

“Can you… go over problem three with me?” you asked, voice dripping with false innocence.

His pen stilled. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you teased, propping your chin in your hand.

That was the last straw. Nanami shoved his chair back, grabbed your wrist, and dragged you onto his lap before you could blink. His grip was firm, commanding, as his lips brushed your ear.

“You think you’re clever?” he muttered, voice low and dangerous. “Dressing like this, teasing me during office hours? You’re just a reckless little brat begging to be taught a lesson.”

Your smirk faltered, heat pooling low in your stomach. “M-Maybe I like pushing your buttons.”

His hand slid up your thigh, fingers digging into the soft flesh. “Pathetic,” he growled. “You sit here with your skirt hiked up, legs spread, and act like you’re not desperate for me to ruin you.”

You gasped when his fingers pressed against your panties—already damp. His lips curled. “Just as I thought. My needy little student.”

Before you could retort, he shoved papers aside, bent you over his desk, and yanked your skirt up. The cool air hit your ass just as his fingers pushed your panties aside.

“Stay quiet,” he ordered, lining himself up. “There are still faculty in the building. Unless you want everyone to hear how slutty you sound for your professor.”

You bit your lip to stifle a moan as he pushed inside, stretching you wide. His tie brushed your back, shirt still on as he held your hips in a bruising grip.

“God—you’re so fucking tight,” he hissed, thrusting deep. “All this attitude, and you melt the second I’m inside you.”

“F-Fuck, Professor—”

“Louder than I told you to be,” he snapped, slamming into you harder. “You can’t even follow simple instructions. How do you expect to pass my class when you can’t keep your mouth shut?”

You whimpered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as the desk creaked beneath you. His hand tangled in your hair, pulling your head back so you had to meet his eyes when he leaned over you.

“Look at me while I fuck the brat out of you,” he growled. “You wanted my attention? You have it. Every single inch of it.”

Each thrust drove you closer to the edge, his words and his pace overwhelming. You clawed at the desk, body shaking as your orgasm crashed through you.

“Good girl,” he praised, voice softening as he fucked you through it. “My perfect little student.”

But he didn’t stop. His thrusts grew rougher, faster, chasing his own release until he spilled inside you with a guttural groan. For a moment, the only sound was your ragged breathing and the faint thud of music echoing from another building.

Nanami pulled out slowly, tucking himself back into his slacks, his shirt and tie still perfectly in place. He adjusted his glasses, then gently fixed your skirt back down, his hand brushing your hip.

“You’ll stay after again next week,” he said matter-of-factly, smoothing your hair. “And you’ll behave. Understood?”

You could only nod, dazed and trembling, as he pressed a surprisingly soft kiss to your temple.

“Good girl,” he murmured again.

💋 NSFW CONTENT — MINORS DNI

character: gojo satoru (college nerd AU)

type: smut / x reader

summary: late-night “group study” in the empty physics lounge was supposed to be about cramming for midterms. but when it’s just you and the infuriatingly hot know-it-all gojo satoru, who’s been teasing you all semester with his stupid smirks and rolled-up sleeves, your bratty comments about his “big brain” finally make him snap. he decides to demonstrate a very hands-on lesson in friction, momentum, and why opposites attract… right on the study table.

warnings: college au (both uni students), mutual pining/teasing, semi-public risk (empty library lounge at night), unprotected sex, degradation + praise, size kink, glasses kink, light dumbification (he teases you for being “so smart but so cockdrunk”), overstimulation, brat taming, table sex, implied aftercare.

word count: ~2.9k

The physics department lounge was dead silent except for the hum of the vending machine in the corner. Everyone else had bailed hours ago, midterms were tomorrow, and most people weren’t masochistic enough to pull an all-nighter in the windowless basement study room. But you? You were stubborn. And apparently, so was he.

Gojo Satoru sprawled in the chair across from you, long legs kicked up on the table, glasses slipping down his nose as he scrolled through practice problems on his laptop. His white hair was a mess from running his hands through it all night, sleeves rolled to his elbows, top two buttons of his shirt undone like he owned the place. Which, let’s be real, he kinda did—guy had a 4.0, TA’d half the intro classes, and still found time to be stupidly pretty.

You slammed your textbook shut louder than necessary. “If I have to look at another goddamn wave equation I’m gonna lose it.”

He didn’t even look up, just smirked. “Aw, having trouble with superposition? Need me to explain it again, princess?”

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t need your big brain to hold my hand. Maybe if you weren’t so distracting—”

That got him. Blue eyes flicked up, sharp and amused behind those glasses. “Distracting? Me?” He leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin in hand. “Care to elaborate?”

You leaned in too, close enough that your knees brushed under the table. “The sleeves. The hair. The way you push your glasses up like some anime protagonist. It’s annoying.”

His grin turned wicked. “Annoying… or hot?”

You bit your lip to hide the smile. “Jury’s still out.”

He laughed low, then suddenly stood—towering over you in one fluid motion. Before you could react, he rounded the table, caging you in with one hand braced on the back of your chair, the other tilting your chin up with two fingers.

“Let’s settle the jury then,” he murmured, voice dropping an octave. “Been watching you stare at me all semester. Think I didn’t notice?”

Your heart hammered. “And if I was?”

He leaned closer, breath warm against your lips. “Then stop being a brat about it… and let me give you what you’ve been begging for with those little looks.”

You barely had time to inhale before his mouth crashed into yours—hungry, messy, like he’d been holding back just as long as you. Hands flew to his shirt, yanking him closer. He groaned into the kiss, tongue sliding against yours as he hauled you up onto the table in one smooth lift. Textbooks and notes scattered to the floor with soft thuds.

“Lesson one,” he panted against your neck, teeth grazing skin, “friction generates heat.”

His hands shoved your skirt up, fingers hooking into your panties and tugging them down in record time. You kicked them off somewhere behind him. He stepped between your thighs, grinding the hard bulge in his jeans against your bare heat.

“Feel that?” He rocked slowly, deliberately. “That’s what happens when two forces keep pushing each other… eventually something’s gotta give.”

You whimpered, hips chasing the pressure. “Then give already, Gojo—”

“Satoru,” he corrected, nipping your earlobe. “Say it.”

“Satoru,” you breathed, and that seemed to flip a switch.

He yanked his belt open, freeing himself—thick, flushed, already dripping. Your mouth watered at the sight. He stroked himself once, twice, eyes locked on yours through his glasses.

“Look how hard you make me,” he rasped. “All because you couldn’t stop running that pretty mouth.”

He lined up and pushed in slow—inch by torturous inch—until he was buried deep. Your head fell back on a choked moan; he clapped a hand over your mouth.

“Shh, baby. Library’s quiet hours. Wouldn’t want the night guard hearing what a needy little slut you are for the class nerd.”

He started moving—deep, rolling thrusts that hit just right every time. The table creaked under you. One hand stayed over your mouth; the other slid under your shirt, palming your chest, thumb circling your nipple.

“So fucking tight,” he groaned. “Smart girl like you… but look at you now. Cockdrunk on my dick already.”

You clenched around him hard, nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt. He hissed, pace picking up—faster, harder, the slap of skin echoing in the empty room.

“Newton’s third law,” he panted, smirking even now. “Every action… has an equal and opposite—fuck—reaction. You tease me? I fuck you stupid.”

His free hand dropped between you, fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight circles. Your legs shook, thighs clamping around his hips.

“Come for me,” he ordered, voice wrecked. “Come all over the cock you’ve been eyeing since week one.”

You shattered—back arching off the table, muffled cries against his palm, pulsing around him so hard his rhythm stuttered. He fucked you through the aftershocks, glasses fogging slightly from the heat.

When you went limp, trembling, he pulled out only to flip you over—chest pressed to the cool wood, ass up. He slid back in from behind with a guttural sound.

“Lesson two,” he growled, hand fisting your hair gently to arch your back. “Momentum… conserved until I fill this pretty pussy up.”

He pounded into you relentlessly now—deep, punishing strokes that made the table rock. You babbled his name, pleas, half-formed physics jokes that made him laugh breathlessly against your shoulder.

“Fuck—gonna come,” he warned, thrusts turning erratic. “Gonna mark you so everyone knows who you belong to.”

He buried himself deep and came with a low, broken moan—flooding you with heat, grinding lazily to push it deeper. His grip on your hips softened as he caught his breath, pressing soft kisses along your spine.

Finally, he pulled out carefully, turning you to sit on the edge of the table again. He cupped your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks, all the smugness replaced with something softer.

“You good?” he asked quietly, pushing his glasses up with a sheepish grin. “Didn’t break you, did I?”

You laughed weakly, leaning into his touch. “A+ tutoring session, Satoru.”

He smirked, kissing you slow and sweet this time. “Good. Now let’s clean up this mess… and maybe next study session you’ll actually focus on the material instead of my dick.”

(But you both knew you wouldn’t.)

💋 NSFW CONTENT — MINORS DNI

character: geto suguru (frat boy AU)

type: smut / x reader

warnings: oral (f!receiving), fingering, semi-public risk, size kink, overstimulation, light degradation, praise kink, creampie, dirty talk, rough sex, bed frame slamming, possessive bf Suguru, aftercare implied, a lil bit of dacryphilia (reader crying from pleasure).

summary: being the nerdy girlfriend of campus’ hottest frat boy has its downsides—mainly, him constantly trying to drag you to parties. when you finally give in, suguru makes sure you never regret it…

word count: ~2.3k

You should’ve known better than to give in to him.

Suguru had been begging you for weeks—no, months—to come to just one frat party with him. “Come on, princess, live a little. It’s not like I’m gonna let anyone touch you,” he’d whine, tugging at your sweater while you studied. Tonight, somehow, you caved. And now you were standing in the middle of a sweaty, crowded house that smelled like cheap beer and weed, clutching a red solo cup like it was a lifeline.

Suguru, of course, looked completely at home. Backwards cap, loose jersey, chain glinting under the dim lights—your boyfriend was the picture of frat royalty. Every person who passed by stopped to dap him up, yell his name, or try to drag him into some drinking game. And yet, his hand never left the small of your back.

“You good, baby?” he leaned down, lips brushing your ear over the bass.

You nodded quickly, though your eyes darted everywhere but his. “It’s… a lot.”

He smirked, knowing damn well it was overwhelming you. “Told you I’d make it worth your while.”

“Worth my while?” you echoed, skeptical.

“Mmhm.” His hand slipped lower, palming your ass right there in the crowd. You squeaked, smacking his chest, but he just grinned. “You’re cute when you get shy, you know that?”

Before you could scold him, he tugged you upstairs, ignoring the protests of other frat brothers guarding the hallway. “Room’s taken, bro,” someone called, but Suguru just waved them off. “Nah, it’s my room.”

He pulled you inside, shutting the door behind him, and suddenly the muffled thump of music made the silence between you deafening. You crossed your arms, glaring. “So this is why you wanted me to come? To—”

“—fuck you in my jersey after showing you off downstairs?” he cut in smoothly, stepping closer until your back hit the door. “Yeah. That was exactly the plan, actually.”

Your face burned. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously in love with you,” he countered, but the smug tilt of his grin gave away his real intentions. “C’mon, baby. You’ve been teasing me in that little skirt all night.”

“I wore this because you said it was casual!” you hissed, tugging at the hem.

“Casual for me means easy access.” His hand hooked under your thigh, hitching your leg up around his hip before you could protest. You gasped, grabbing his shoulders for balance as he ground against you, the hard line of his cock pressing right where you were starting to ache.

“Su—Suguru—”

He kissed you hard, swallowing the rest of your words. His mouth was hot, desperate, tasting like beer and mint. When he pulled back, his eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. “God, you don’t get it, do you? You walk into my world lookin’ like this, all innocent and nerdy, and you expect me to behave? Not happening, princess.”

You whined as his hands slid under your sweater, pushing it up until your bra was exposed. His thumbs brushed over your nipples through the lace, and you arched into him despite yourself.

“That’s it,” he praised, voice low and hungry. “My good girl.”

Your knees nearly buckled when he lifted you effortlessly, tossing you onto his unmade bed. The mattress creaked, and you gave him a scandalized look. “People downstairs will hear—”

“Let ‘em.” He shrugged off his jersey, muscles flexing under the dim fairy lights strung across his room. “They already know you’re mine.”

He crawled over you, caging you in. “Now,” he murmured, kissing down your throat, leaving bruises where no one could miss them, “let me prove it.”

Suguru’s bed dipped under his weight as he crawled between your thighs, dark hair falling into his face. You squirmed, tugging your skirt down like it would save you, but he just smirked.

“Don’t hide from me, princess,” he murmured, gripping your knees and spreading you wide. The position had heat shooting up your spine—you felt exposed, vulnerable, and completely at his mercy.

“Sugu, wait, people are—”

“Downstairs,” he finished for you, kissing the inside of your thigh. His lips dragged higher, hot breath making you twitch. “They’re not up here. They don’t get to see this. Only me.”

Before you could argue, he pushed your panties aside and licked one long stripe up your cunt. Your back arched instantly, a broken gasp tearing from your lips.

“Fuck—Suguru!”

“Mhm.” He hummed against you, tongue teasing your clit before circling it slow, lazy, like he had all night. “God, you taste so good. Could eat this pussy every day and never get bored.”

Your hands shot to his hair, tugging hard when he sucked your clit into his mouth. He groaned at the pull, burying his face deeper like he wanted to drown in you. The mix of sloppy wet sounds and muffled music downstairs made your head spin.

“S-Sugu—ahh—I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he growled, sliding two fingers inside you without warning. You cried out, legs trembling as he curled them just right. “C’mon, baby. Be a good girl and cum for me.”

Your thighs clamped around his head as the coil in your stomach snapped, pleasure crashing over you in waves. You screamed his name, shaking while he fucked you through it, tongue flicking mercilessly at your clit.

When you finally slumped back, panting, he pulled away with his chin glistening, licking his fingers clean like he hadn’t just wrecked you.

“Good girl,” he praised, kissing your thigh one last time before standing. You blinked up at him, dazed, watching as he shoved his sweats down to reveal his cock straining, thick and leaking.

“Already so fucked out,” he teased, gripping your hips and flipping you onto your back again. “But I’m not done with you, princess. Not even close.”

You barely had time to gasp before he lined up and slammed into you, bottoming out in one rough thrust. Your nails clawed at the sheets, the stretch burning and addictive all at once.

“Fuck, so tight—” he hissed, head dropping to your shoulder. “Always so perfect for me.”

The bed frame banged against the wall with each snap of his hips, loud enough to make your face burn. You tried to muffle your moans, but Suguru grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

“Don’t you dare get quiet on me,” he warned, pupils blown, sweat dripping down his temple. “I wanna hear you. I want everyone downstairs to know who’s making you scream like this.”

“Suguru—ahh, fuck—I can’t—”

“You can,” he grinned darkly, rutting into you harder, deeper, until the only sound you could make was a sob of his name. “You’re my nerdy little princess, remember? All dressed up in your cute little skirt, letting me fuck you stupid.”

You whined, clinging to him, and he groaned like it was the hottest thing in the world. “God, I love you like this,” he panted against your neck. “So messy, so mine. Gonna cum for me again, baby?”

Your answer was another cry as your body tightened around him, orgasm ripping through you harder than before. Suguru cursed, hips stuttering as your cunt clenched him like a vice.

“Shit—fuck—you’re perfect—”

He buried himself to the hilt, spilling inside you with a low, broken moan. The room was filled with the sound of your mingled gasps, the bass downstairs still thumping like a soundtrack to your ruin.

When it was over, he collapsed beside you, pulling you onto his chest. His grin was smug, cocky as ever, but his hand stroked your hair gently.

“Knew I’d make this party worth your while,” he whispered, kissing your forehead.

You smacked his chest weakly. “You’re an asshole.”

“Maybe,” he said, smirking, “but I’m yours.”