18+ how to sexually harass your hot law professor, higuruma !
1. HRSS 1O1 : YA LIKE MY TIDDIES, PROF ?
law professor! higuruma hiromi is lecturing a class on courtroom ethics while you sit front row & flash your tits in his face.
let me rephrase: professor higuruma is pressed tweed suit / half-loosened tie / hair damp & sticky with afternoon sweat. you’re a third year law school student with translucent excuse for a button-up shirt & an ego bruised from being rejected by your law professor one too many times.
it’s always “you’re too young,” or “this is inappropriate.” never ‘yes y/n, i’d love to put my balls in your jaw !’
so you take matters into your own hands.
no one who’s anyone attends the 4PM lectures. so when higuruma hiromi watches you stroll in at 4:11 PM sharp, hair tied back & blazer on & looking uncharacteristically presentable, professor higuruma can’t hide the way his eyes flit to you & back to the half-empty class again. suspicious.
you sit front row & center. hiromi doesn’t react.
not until you’re flashing your breasts in his face, that is.
sweat beads on your perky nipples & you can only thank the midsummer heat. higuruma hiromi is staring—wide-eyed now, as his least favorite, much too perverted student pinches her nipples with her thumb & index & gives them a good rub for him to see.
& because that’s not enough—it never is with you—you have the audacity to soak your fingers in the wetness of your tongue & play with your pebbled nipples right in his face! two rows to your left in the half-empty classroom is a boy named mike ross who’s caught on to what you’re doing yet keeps his eyes trained straight. he’s just here to graduate. what the fuck is happening?
“class is dismissed. you may all leave.”
the lecture soon comes to an end. you’re packed books & buttoned blazer now, boobs tucked away & the picture of perfection.
“not you, y/n,” you freeze.
“meet me in my office in five.”
2. HRSS 2O1 : TUMBLR SMUT ABOUT YOUR LAW PROFESSOR ? SRSLY ?
professor higuruma isn’t paid enough for this.
that’s what he concludes as he fails the nth essay of the night. it’s 9:15 pm & he’s in the discomfort of his home, back bent over his desk & blue light glasses perched low on the hook of his nose.
one more paper to grade before he goes to bed tonight. that’s what he tells himself, at least.
and behold, the paper is yours! law professor higuruma hiromi knows he should save himself the trouble & give you a big fat F. girls like you are only good at picking slutty skirts & bending over just far enough that he can get the perfect view of your ass mid-lecture. not writing reports or drafting thesis statements.
but law demands fairness, so higuruma opens the document anyways.
LAWP-302 — THE BURDEN OF PROOF : PROXIMATE CAUSE IN PERSONAL INJURY CASES.
beyond the title, the document is completely empty.
hiromi higuruma counts himself lucky. empty doc means earlier bedtime. so before closing his laptop & putting his things away, he reopens your assignment thread to send a new email:
———-
Subject: RE: RE: LAWP-302 RESEARCH PAPER
From: [L/N], [Y/N]
To: Higuruma, Hiromi
helloooo professor here’s my research paper!!! finally on time for once :p if u don’t mind could u call me a good girl for my efforts??
xoxo,
[Y/N] 💘💓
————-
hiromi winces. he’d already had the misfortune of reading your email before, but accidentally skimming it a second time makes his stomach curl with disgust. he purses his lip, nose scrunched, glasses slipping down his cheek as he steadies the keyboard.
———-
Subject: RE: LAWP-302 RESEARCH PAPER
From: Higuruma, Hiromi
To: [L/N], [Y/N]
Y/N,
Your submitted assignment was completely empty. Lucky for you, there is still a day to the deadline. Complete the paper and resubmit as soon as possible.
Also, you are a student of a prestigious law school. It is expected your assignments are completed in due time, and I will not “praise” you for your “efforts.” They are expected, and asking me to call you a ‘good girl’ is extremely inappropriate. Not that you seem to care about what’s inappropriate and what’s not.
I’ve also told you to stop emailing me with such casual language. Signing your name with heart emojis is extremely informal and inappropriate. I can only issue so many warnings. May God’s plan for your life be bigger than your breasts, else I can assure that you will never make it.
Higuruma Hiromi
———-
hiromi sighs, body limp & bone heavy. perhaps the late-night frustration has gotten to him—he knows he should delete the last part, but his thumb slips (or not?) & he sends it anyways.
he’s about to close his laptop when an email notification pings. he makes the mistake of refreshing his page, & unfortunately the email comes from you.
———-
Subject: RE: RE: LAWP-302 RESEARCH PAPER
From: [L/N], [Y/N]
To: Higuruma, Hiromi
Professor 😟,
whatttt are u doing awake at this time. not that i’m complaining!! if you’re emailing me this late because you’ve FINALLY decided you’re interested in me & my big breasts (i’m so glad you noticed their size! the fenugreek must be working 😇), you can message me at 42-42-564 <3333
alsoooo my bad i think i sent the wrong draft </3. the actual paper is attached below!!
night night prof 🌙💤
[Y/N] 😇☺️ (no heart emojis this time bcoz im a good girl :)
——-
law professor higuruma hiromi doesn’t get paid enough for this.
that’s what he tells himself for the third time today. he chooses not to respond to your email, instead opening up the file to get things over with. it’s nearly midnight now & the chill of his office is unforgiving, but with red nose & freezing fingertips hiromi opens up the doc regardless.
at this point, higuruma hiromi should shut his laptop & retreat to bed. this is clearly not your research paper, & whatever you write in your free time is none of his business.
but his name in the first paragraph catches his eye.
“hahh—hiromi,” you whine, a mess of shaky thighs & flushed cheeks. “can’t do it—need your help, please”
higuruma only grips your hips harder, big hands bruising at your thighs. he wastes no time lapping at the juices that spill from your achey cunt, giving your pussy a wet lick before his head tilts back so his nose digs right into your puffy clit. above him you’re half dressed & fucked dumb, mouth hung open & boobs spilling from your bra cup. you’re writhing on his nose, but hiromi doesn’t fucking care.
“you asked for this, no?” his voice is hungry, guttural. “ride, baby.”
what the fuck?
now, professor higuruma should definitely stop reading. he can already feel heat crawling up his throat & itching at his ears. he should step back. mark the document as "Inappropriate Content" & forward it to the disciplinary board. say a prayer & repent, if you will.
instead, his eyes snag the last sentence of the page.
hiromi pulls back, breathless & sticky with your slick, to look at the mess he’s made of his favorite student.
”good girl,’ he murmurs, “look how much you’ve leaked for your professor.”
he slams his laptop shut.
and his heart hammers with a rhythm that has nothing to do with justice. he knows monday will come, & so will your slutty skirts, half buttoned tops, shaky thighs—
he’ll have to see you in his office again. & he knows—with a sorry sense of dread—that it won’t be to fail you.
3. HRSS 3O1 : GET ‘EM BANNED !
monday comes & so does your slutty skirt.
it’s 5PM midsummer & the office air is sticky with heat. a fan hangs heavy in the center, creaky & aching, just loud enough to mask how hard hiromi’s shoe taps against the wooden floor.
in front of him you’re bright smile & pink nose & lace bra peeking from your button-up. hiromi doesn’t let his eyes dip. he doesn’t know how you’re beaming—perhaps it wasn’t clear he’d called you into his office for literal sexual harassment.
“professor,” you coo. “is this about my email on friday? you’re taking up that offer about my breasts?”
two desks to the left, history professor nanami kento clears his throat. on the opposite side is professor giyu tomioka who isn’t paid enough for this & just fucking leaves.
higuruma clears his throat, skin itchy. “i have no idea what you’re talking about, y/n. mind your mouth while in my presence.”
“did you read the smut fic i wrote about you?”
nanami exits the office.
hiromi drags his palm over his face; tired, weary, utterly embarrassed. in all his years of teaching never had he encountered a student as shameless & perverted as you, & even now he’s pretty sure you’re turned on by his exasperation as well because your skirt crinkles from your thighs squeezing beneath his desk. god.
& perhaps hiromi is equally perverted; because some sick, twisted part of him, the part that likes watching you bend over for him to see your panties dig into your pussy, or the part that likes stroking his dick to the memory of you palming your pebbled nipples that one day of class—doesn’t hate it. & he really should. & he really ought to teach you a lesson for fucking with his head & riling him up the way you do.
“professorr,” you sing-song, patting your chest shamelessly. “my breasts? you wanted to take up my offer, right?”
“enough.”
his voice bangs like gavel, and the sound shocks you—he knows because you’re looking up at him now with flushed cheeks & glossy eyes. like you’d never expected him to actually get mad.
and to make things worse, your thighs are squeezing like you like it.
and in that moment, hiromi decides he will take you up on that offer. he’s towering now, jaw tight, palms firm on the mahogany table.
“strip.”
and you waste no time, honestly. hiromi can tell you’re excited, even though you bite your cheek like you’re trying not to show it. your fingers are clumsy against your button-up, pathetic & half-shaky, and hiromi wastes no time before leaning over & snapping your shirt open himself. you let out a squeak as he unclasps your bra. cute.
but he doesn’t lower himself to your perky nipples—nope. higuruma hiromi would rather die than give you exactly what you want. he grabs you by the hair & forces you over his desk instead.
“professor—“
“quiet.”
but girls like you are stubborn as fuck & whine against him anyways. higuruma decides he has no time for that—his palm shifts from your hip to your mouth, keeping you shut & steady against him as he fiddles with his belt. god, you’re already writhing against him, ass rubbing against his already hardened cock. & hiromi doesn’t groan—he’d rather die than give you the satisfaction—so he bites his lip & ignores the taste of blood in his mouth instead.
“f-fuck…”
hiromi takes his sweet time. only his boxers separate you now, clothed dick dragging up your cunt. and he goes slow, painfully slow, like he’s punishing you for all the times you got him rock hard mid lecture & he had to jerk himself off with only the image of your panties digging into your folds or your perky nipples glistening in the fluorescent light.
you’re moaning against his palm now, voice a muffled, damp mess. your hips jerking against his cock make his thighs twitch. god, he’s wanted this so long.
and he finally decides to give it to you.
his dick practically springs from his boxers, heavy & thick & dripping with precum. fuck, he’s aching, practically twitching to get inside you. fuck fuck fuck.
“inside—“ you groan into his hand. “please,”
he’s barely done anything & you’re already a whiny mess! god, what a pervert you are. and hiromi would be a liar if he said he didn’t like it. his palms grip you roughly, lining you up & pressing into your back so you lean far enough to give him the perfect view of your ass.
hiromi doesn’t let you slip your skirt & panties off beforehand because he likes the idea of your skirt fluttering around each time he digs inside you. who says he can’t be a pervert, too?
and he does exactly that, bony fingers sliding your panties over your cunt. & you’re already soaked, wet & sticky so when he slips his fingers aside they’re already dripping with slick.
hiromi doesn’t give you time to adjust.
you don’t deserve it, so he simply doesn’t give it to you. he slides himself in, teeth gritting as your pussy flutters & grips him much tighter than he expected. truth be told, he hadn’t expected your aching cunt to give him such a hard time. dumb sluts like you came easy & pre-stretched, right ?
& he’s half-right, because your folds adjust to him. eventually. just when he lets his palm shift from your hip to your breast to grope them roughly & caress your nipples with his fingers. & god you squeeze with every rub, & you feel so fucking good & hiromi’s not sure how he didn’t give into your pretty pussy much sooner.
well he’s here now, & he wastes no time ramming into you. he digs in deep, hands working your perky nipples as he thrusts into your aching cunt. & he can barely muffle your moans now & he should be concerned about someone walking in but how can he when your whiny moans all go straight to his dick?
& because hiromi’s not easily satisfied, his right hand leaves your lips & sinks to your thighs instead. & god you’re so wet, & he only dips his hand to finger your swollen nub but you’re already a sloppy mess on his palm & fuck he loves it. loves how your ass twitches & hips jerk as his fingers graze your clit, fast & rough, like girls like you don’t deserve warm pace & gentleness.
“hah—ah…hiromi!”
you squeeze him tight, walls pulsing & hips stuttering against him. he thumbs your sensitive clit even harder through your high, thumb digging as you spasm & twitch against him, palms still heavy on your perky nipples. & only when you relax against him, pussy still fluttering, does he slip out his cock to cum on your ass with heavy pants & a breathy “fuck.”
girls like you don’t deserve aftercare or ‘are you okay?’ so hiromi doesn’t give it to you. he’s already buckled belt & smoothed out hair in his seat, watching with lazy eyes as you struggle to shift your skirt over your ass.
you’re still buttoning your shirt when you beam,
“see, prof? that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
except it was, & the post-nut clarity hits him like a bullet. fuck. he should’ve never let a perverted thing like you get under his skin.
hiromi breathes, pulls a drawer from his desk. “i have something for you.”
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