varka's princess

[sprxicle]

﹥*:ꔫ:*+ﾟ𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 *ೃ༄

heya heya! rie here! 21, she/her, degree student! tumblr come back bc of varka <3 teehee ꒰ ( ˊ˘ˋ ) ꒱ more of me on here !! my inbox is also open~

𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: varka <3 tits

⚠ blog contains 18+ content ⚠  

fandoms masterlist!

genshin impact || to be added...

last updated: Mar 11th 2026

[enjinsprettydoll]

nothing that I am thinking about is tumblr appropriate. goddd he looks sooo hot(ter) in this panel. 😩🥴😍💗💕💛☂️

[2qoo]

Lohen corners you in between the pillars of the knights quarters, everyone as of right now is asleep. well, mostly.. the guards on night patrol is still awake you know?

The light from the candle flickers gently in the wind as if it could see the things your vice captain does to you behind closed doors. "my.. seeing you like this sends a rush throughout my body." his front is pressed flush against yours while he grinds his erection against your aching pussy, your knees buckling under his alluring gaze.

Lohen lasciviously kisses up the warm side of your neck, nipping and biting hard to create a bruising hickey into your skin, watching your face the whole time. he chuckles deep when you cling to his clothes, a desperate whine leaving your mouth.

"Shh, try to be a little quiet, bunny.. it's quite late you see.." he ghosts a finger over your fluttering clit, circling the middle finger delicately over in mind numbing circles. he shushes you with a giggle when you let out a particularly high pitched sob, your legs shaking as he quickens the pace, his long pretty fingers (now using his entire palm) to rub ceaselessly, snickering a little when you cum all over his hand, your fluids gushing between your thighs.

"Feel good? bet it did.." he watches fondly when you lean forward to blearily press your lips against his, your hand clutching his arm as you hump his hand. lohen scoffs at the audacity you had to use his hand for your own pleasure, but he can't deny how mesmerizing you look right now.

"Ah, ah.. naughty little thing you are." he scolds playfully, lightly slapping your glistening pussy as a mini punishment.

you whimper as the slaps turn into teasing curls of his fingers but beg him to stick it in you already, your hands clutch his collar as you rub your forehead into his neck, he closes his eyes to relish the feeling of your clinginess.

"Want my cock so bad?" he asks digging his knee into your heat, fuck it felt good.. but you nod excited, sort of like a dog with it's tongue out. your eyes childishly lighting up but lohen is quick to turn you down. asshole!

"I'll stuff ya full darling but you came so quickly.. I couldn't even taste you properly.." he tilts his head to the side, eyes closing in faux worry. But lohen always delivers. He'll give you what you want and more. Just let him tease you a little longer, yeah?

‎

[cupidstrace]

MDNI 18+ 〃 Ryomen “beefin’ with my chick while I’m in jail” Sukuna.

A/N: it's finally here oh rejoice i am free flies away

Criminal!Sukuna who’s scary as fuck. He’s so jacked it borders on obscene – muscles stacked on muscles and veins crawling beneath tattooed skin, shoulders stretching at the seams of his uniform. He’s got this sorta unperturbed vibe. Real musky and muscular, stalking around like he’ll beat up the first guy that looks at him wrong.

Criminal!Sukuna who got locked up for some undisclosed highly illegal bullshit nobody ever gets a straight answer about. Speculations are thrown around the prison yard – drug dealing. Drug trafficking. Body-part-trafficking. Cannibalism (yay!).

He doesn’t bother to correct anything. Just sits in the corner with an arm slung over one knee, brooding, grumbling “King of Curses, they used to call me..” beneath his breath. The nutjob.

Criminal!Sukuna who has the whole wing convinced there’s no way in hell he’s got a girl on the outside. Surely not. He’s so immature and ill-natured – even more so than his cellmate, Gojo. Which is saying something.

To the little lady who might end up having to deal with this brutish man, well.. Gojo extends his sincerest condolences. He’s fairly certain any sane person would run for the hills.

You are not sane. He supposes this is why you and Sukuna get along.

Criminal!Sukuna who lights up in the most feral way whenever your name comes up. Won’t admit it, of course. But it’s obvious how he stops pacing when the mail comes. He snatches your envelopes out of the stack like a territorial dog, scowling at anyone who looks over.

Criminal!Sukuna who sits in his cell reading pages upon pages of you calling him a brain-dead brute with no sense of decorum. Threats piling up saying you’ll break things off completely if he doesn’t clean up his act when he gets out.

He smiles anyway. Because the letters smell like your perfume. Lips splitting wide in that creepy, clinically unwell way that has Gojo surmising Sukuna must have stockholm-syndromed his way into his relationship somehow.

Criminal!Sukuna who writes back instantaneously. Pencil scritching against paper like he’s got a vendetta – and perhaps he does, because he writes venomous, downright heinous shit. All watch your tone and you won’t find a better fuck, signed with a little sketch of his dick. For good measure, of course.

𓀐𓂺 𓀐𓂸

Criminal!Sukuna who spends half his sentence arguing with you through busted-up phone receivers and glass partitions. Sometimes you’ll be face to face at the visitation area, nary a word spoken. Once, you threaten to “start seeing someone normal”, and he slams the counter so hard the whole thing jostles.

There’s something special in the way you speak to him. Like he’s an exceptionally stupid man, and not a dangerous bastard with an egregiously extensive crime record.

“Do you want to get out of prison,” you hiss, enunciating each syllable with a finger jabbed hard at the glass, “or do you want to buttfuck your cellmate?”

Sukuna’s sprawled in his chair, massive arms folded with a sleazy grin, eyes glimmering with mirth. He leans closer.

“Depends. You gonna dump me if I do?”

“Maybe.”

The phone receiver slams against the cradle on his side so hard the inmate six seats down flinches. Sukuna stands to full height, chair scraping back loud across the floor. Hunched over the counter.

“You try it,” he sneers. “See what happens.”

A normal person would back down right about now. Think: hey, this probably isn’t a healthy or sustainable relationship! I should end things right here!

You do not. Instead, you stand and collect your things, a vein pulsing at your forehead as you muster a sweet smile. “Maybe I will.”

He stares ahead three long seconds after you leave, then drops back into his chair, muttering curses beneath his breath as a reprimanding guard draws near.

Criminal!Sukuna who finally gets that long-awaited conjugal visit slot after years of good behavior (read: not slamming anyone’s head into a wall for about a week and a half). And lucky him, you’ve requested special accommodations! – a little trailer just off prison grounds. 

He would’ve been fine fucking you for all to hear, too, but he digresses.

He’s half-hard just from the walk out the confine, veins prominent as his cuff-clad hands twist together. Too busy thinking to bother snarking at the guards who trail behind him.

He wonders what he’ll do when he sees you first. Maybe he’ll smirk, make a snide comment. Or maybe instinct’ll take over, and he’ll bury his face in your hair and his dick in your pussy. Who’s to say?

He’s excited. Very. In many ways.

Criminal!Sukuna who’s one foot into the trailer when he freezes up. The guards have to push him through, slamming the door behind him as his system reboots.

Something tambourines across his ribcage as his eyes meet yours, pounding, pounding– fuck. There you are.

God, he’s missed you.

“You’re staring.”

“..you’re breathing.”

“Yes, that tends to happen.”

His fingers twitch, a soft exhale escaping.

He can’t even find it in himself to be pissed. You’re so pretty. Especially when you’re mad. The angrier you get and the sharper you snap back, the brighter that little gleam in your eyes burns.

Sukuna likes it. He likes it a lot.

He likes you a lot.

The sole reason he even bothered to behave long enough to earn this visit was so he could see that exact frown on your lips once more.

Criminal!Sukuna who’s snapped out of his reverie with the telltale warning of your fingers threading through his hair.

Then those exact lips slam against his with a hiss, your teeth clashing, biting and pulling at his bottom lip as if punishing him for all the time you’ve lost.

His hands – still restrained – press into your waist.

He can’t be bothered to care.

He’s on a sugar high for the first time in months, swallowing down your sativa taste until he’s lightheaded and preening, the outline of kuna junior™ peeking out his orange garb to wave hello.

Your grip on his hair tightens, tugging when his metal cuffs digs into you. In the way. You shoot him a glare, and he snarls beneath his breath.

“Hold still, woman.”

“I am holding still, you dolt–”

There’s a sharp crack!

All you see is the flex of his forearms before the cuffs give way, steel snapping like cheap jewelry and skewing across the trailer floor.

Criminal!Sukuna who hauls you up by your thighs, slamming your back against the flimsy trailer wall so hard a framed motivational poster clatters to the floor. His mouth’s on your throat, kissing tattoos into your skin while he grinds his aching length against the warmth of your clothed cunt.

Criminal!Sukuna who swipes your panties to the side instead of bothering to take them off. There’s a wet spot where he’s been grinding that has his smile spreading mean, two fingers rubbing at your clit before dipping in and crooking up.

“No one’s been spreading you right, huh? Miss me that bad?”

“Missed the dick. Didn’t miss the mouth.”

He snorts at that. Mutters “brat” beneath his breath as he drags his fingers out, slow and glistening, smearing slick along your folds before pushing them back in deep. “Lucky the mouth missed you.”

Criminal!Sukuna who drops to his knees. More collapse than kneel, weight falling hard as he plants himself to the floor, thighs spread wide, hands gripping at your ass to pull you closer. Then he smiles up, tongue running along his molars in anticipation.

Criminal!Sukuna who eats you out like he’s starved. Who dives in with no preamble, mouth sealing over your cunt, tongue flat and broad and greedy as he drags it from your entrance up in one long, lewd-sounding swipe. He takes a moment to grin against your clit, tongue swirling messy circles as his nose presses to the warmth of your skin. Then he’s enveloping the puffy nub between his lips and sucking hard enough to make your hips jerk, humming low when his fingers swipe through your folds and meet a gush of arousal. You buck into the feeling with a whine his name, nails scraping through his scalp, and he practically groans, a hand dropping down to unzip and jerk himself off.

Criminal!Sukuna who gets slower when he’s about to insert himself. Who brushes his tip through your folds, kissing gently at your clit before going back down to gather slick. Then he notches himself at your entrance and thrusts in, agonizingly unrushed, grunting as he sinks into your warmth.

It’s been a while, but his dick still recognizes the feeling like a soldier coming home from war. The fluttering, the way you suck him in like you never forgot him at all – like you waited for him just like he waited for you and worried for him wholly more.

The stretch aches. Your nails rake bloody reality down his back. A groan escapes unbidden – guttural and painstricken and all the more relieved that he’s here, and you’re here, and you’re his.

Criminal!Sukuna who fucks you mean. At first. Sharp and punishing, hips snapping like he’s trying to escape by rocking the trailer to nirvana. Each thrust has a gasp slipping out of your pretty lips, of which he drinks down with fervor, tongue swirling and coaxing yours to muffle the sounds so the guards outside don’t get a free audio show. His balls slap wet against your skin, swollen from months of nothing but his own fist and your perfume-stained letters.

Criminal!Sukuna who slows down when your legs lock tighter around him and your teeth find the side of his neck. He’s still buried to the hilt. His hips rolling in filthy circles, grinding his length against that sweet spot that makes your toes curl and your vision go blurry.

His forehead drops to yours, sweat-slick hair sticking to skin as his voice lowers.

“..say you love me.”

Criminal!Sukuna who lets out a tch when you don’t answer fast enough. Who pulls almost all the way out, letting you feel the drag of every veiny inch, then slams back in so deep your mouth opens in a silent cry.

“Say it. Tell me you’re mine, tell me you– fuuuuuck. Been thinking ‘bout you. Dreaming ‘bout you, every night. Jerked off so much I thought my dick would fall off.. c’mon, baby. Say it. C’mon.”

Criminal!Sukuna who starts begging when your walls pulse around him. Not pretty begging, either – pissed-off. Hoarse.

“Don’t do this to me, please– fuck– just say it. Say you love your piece-of-shit boyfriend. Say you’ll wait. I’ll be good, I swear– only you, just for you, I’ll get out– so say it. Say it. I need you.”

His thrusts turn erratic. Sloppy. He’s close, and he’s trying not to be, trying to drag it out as long as possible before the moment fades into steel bars and white walls of nothing.

Criminal!Sukuna who shivers when you finally card your fingers through his hair, yanking his head back so you can look him in the eye.

You’re pretty. Always pretty, but especially pretty like this, lips swollen and tears pooling at your eyes out of overstimulation.

“I love you, you stupid, stupid man.”

Criminal!Sukuna whose whole body locks up. Whose cock pulses violently inside you – once, twice – and then he’s cumming with a strangled groan, doubling over to hold you tight as he fills you up. He keeps grinding, encouraged by the way your walls milk his length, cum leaking out in a frothy little ring that has his chest preening.

Criminal!Sukuna who doesn’t pull out after. Just stays seated inside, trembling, face buried in the crook of your neck and arms wrapped around you like you might disappear. Who mumbles against your skin, barely audible –

“..missed this pussy.”

He’s still half-hard, twitching every time your walls clench around his oversensitive length. Already thinking about round two.

But despite his perverted words, and his overeager dick, you know exactly what he’s trying to say.

Criminal!Sukuna who spends the rest of your visit inside you in some capacity – fucking, eating you out with your thighs locked around his head, making you ride him on the tiny bed ‘til the frame creaks dangerously. Every time he cums, he begs to hear you say you love him again, hissing it back at you like a promise.

When the guards finally bang on the door to collect him, he snarls “five more minutes” and shoves his tongue back in your mouth. Trying to swallow you whole and take you with him.

Criminal!Sukuna who leaves the trailer with his shoulders loosened, lips swollen, fresh bite marks ringed around his throat and oh-so visible with his head held high. The dopiest, most lovesick grin painted fond across his lips.

He’s gonna get out of here. And when he does, his girl’s gonna be waiting.

––––

Criminal!Sukuna who gets released on parole after god knows how long. The guards walk him out, and the world feels a little different. The air is clearer. And his woman–

.

Where the hell are you?

Criminal!Sukuna who’s a little disappointed when his parole officer is the one to escort him home. But he can’t be too upset about it. You must’ve had it hard, too. He’ll make it up to you.

Criminal!Sukuna who almost breaks down the door on his way in.

DAAAARLING. GUESS WHO’S BACK FROM JAIIIIIIL–

You’re sitting on the couch, legs tucked beneath you, remote in one hand. Unimpressed.

“Hi,” you sniff.

His eye twitches.

“Woman.”

“Yes?”

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Sitting.”

He drops his duffel bag with a heavy thud. “Yeah. I can see that.”

Criminal!Sukuna who starts prowling around the apartment like a bloodhound. He checks the kitchen and the hallway and the bathroom and the bedroom – including the closet, the door to which he swings open so hard it bangs against the wall.

Bathtub. Bed. Under the bed. Back out again.

He stands silent for a long moment before storming back into the living room, planting himself in front of the couch and looming over you with a scowl.

“You told me you were seeing someone.”

You lean a little to the left so he doesn’t block your view of the TV, ignoring the freshly released menace like you haven’t been yearning for his presence for the past four years. Serves him right. “I told you maybe.”

“Maybe means yes.”

“No,” you reply, calm, “Maybe means maybe.”

“Maybe means there could be some guy sitting in my apartment right now.”

“Our apartment.”

“Same difference.”

You don’t respond, and he feels the panic set in.

Sukuna trusts you. He knows you waited, and he knows you didn’t have to.

What he’s more uncomfortable with is the memory of all those nights in his cell staring at the ceiling wondering if he would come back changed.

It’s not like he’d know if or when that would happen. It’s not like you’re blind to that possibility. You’ve probably spent just as much time wondering the same thing – if the man who came home would still be the one you loved, or just some asshole you’d have to learn to live with until your lease was up.

And if you did anticipate that, and you did move on, and there is some other guy? What then? What useless method of intimidation or blackmail or torture could possibly earn back your heart if he had already lost it somewhere along the way?

You glance up after a bit. A wry smile blooms across your lips when you see the worried set of his brow.

“There is no guy,” you snort.

“You sure about that?”

“Yes.”

“Then why didn’t you pick me up?”

“You know where the apartment is.”

“..would’ve liked balloons, at least.”

You register the little quiver in his voice with a hum.

It’s kind of funny, because when he first got into prison four years ago, he was the one who tried to cut things off. Said he didn’t know you at first – assumed you wouldn’t want to associate with a convict. And now here he is, asking for welcome-home balloons.

“Wow,” you muse, pausing your show, “prison really softened you.”

He glares down at you. You smile back.

And then he lets out a long, aggravated exhale, drags a hand down his face, and plops down onto the couch. The whole thing dips under his weight.

“Missed you,” he murmurs.

You laugh and let him pull you into his arms.

“You big baby.”

Criminal!Sukuna who’s “reformed”. On paper. Ankle monitor long gone and patrol officer off his case. He’s even scored a legitimate (albeit mundane) part-time mechanic gig, which you’re 90% sure he got solely because the owner of the shop used to joyride with him. Some big burly guy named Toji who overcharges his clients and busts all his earnings in a casino at 4am, no doubt.

Still, the itch never leaves.

Criminal!Sukuna who can’t quite give up that pesky little habit of his. He’ll steal anything he can. Snatching your lacey panties right out the hamper just to shove them in the washer four hours later after jerking off until the fabric is soaked. And if ever you ask, he’ll just shrug and feign innocence.

“Dunno. Maybe they ran away from your stank ass pu–”

You don’t let him fuck you for the next two weeks, and from the desperate look on his face when you pass by, it isn’t difficult to assume he’s in just as much agony as he was when he was behind bars.

Criminal!Sukuna who “borrows” your car keys and drives off. He doesn’t have anywhere particularly important to be, but the jingle in his palm and the roar of the engine give him that good ol’ dopamine hit. He goes down three blocks to the gas station just to buy the same energy drink you already have three packs of in the fridge, then comes back home and acts like he wasn’t just driving on a suspended license.

Criminal!Sukuna who’s reintegrated into society. And yet he’ll never truly get rid of the urge – the whisper that he could do something, and he could probably get away with it, too.

But he won’t. He’d kill himself before getting locked up again.

Scratch that – his girl would, first.

@kamiflix, @epicderpface, @emxoxo05, @megumour, @cassideezlife, @besidesjustmyamour, @chocalycake, @mimuju, @satorupi, @venusins, @xonyoka, @kamoswrld, @angelscriptures, @madamechrissy, @eremika104, @sukurena, @blkkizzat, @ghost-hoe, @azrielblue, @fallen-angelxoxo, @lemonjuicie, @getorade, @emxoxo05

[desvyn]

He doesn’t say “I love you” often.

He just brings home your favorite drink without asking.

He buys the ugly little pink plushie you pointed at one time three weeks ago and tosses it on the bed like it's no big deal. Doesn’t even look at you. Just mutters,

“Figured you’d like it. Don’t make it a thing.”

It is a thing. Your chest is full.

You once complained offhandedly about your favorite ramen spot being closed for the day.

The next day he made you ramen. From scratch. With a scowl on his face and flour on his nose.

When you get cold, he doesn’t ask. Just grumbles,

“Come here,” and throws a blanket over both of you. arm around your waist, hand rubbing your hip under the fabric.

When you’re sick, he doesn’t say a word. Just disappears and comes back with four bags of medicine, three different kinds of soup, and a plushie shaped like a strawberry cow.

The cashier asked if it was for his kid.

He said, “No. For my wife.” And then made direct eye contact until the guy stopped smiling.

He doesn’t show his love loudly. He just gives you the last bite of his food without asking. He puts himself between you and the street when you walk. He silently kneels to help you tie your shoe if you’re struggling with the laces. He gets irrationally angry if your socks are wet.

“Why didn’t you tell me your feet were cold? What am I here for then?”

And when you tell him you love him? He freezes for a second, ears going red. Then mutters, voice low,

“…You know I love you too. You always know.”

DESVYN

[sprxicle]

whenever i see those ao3 tag videos on tiktok, i wait to see if dry humping is on there which.. it did not appear 💔

[teefushi]

LAW & RAW, ORDER & OLDER !

CONTENT WARNING. MDNI, fem! reader, law student! reader, lawyer higuruma, 6.9k words, age gap (24&36), fluff & smut, slow burn? game of thrones references, porn with plot, unprotected sex, office sex, rough? sex, sloppy makeouts, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, higuruma is an EATER, spit, praise, choking, pussy spanking, dirty talk, belly bulge, big dick higuruma, he loves eye contact, dacryphilia? he’s mean & cocky if you squint. enjoy!

your pen sits between your teeth as your eyes switch from the thick textbook splayed open on your kitchen island and your laptop screen.

the cursor blinks for the millionth time in your setup word document. countless words plastered in that irritating format of times new roman size twelve that you’ve done a thousand times over.

words mutter under your breath as you multitask in reading, taking notes, and applying the newfound information to your assignment.

“hey, is your prof still asking you guys to take internships?”

your roommate comes from hibernating out of her room, eyes glued to her phone as she saunters over to the kitchen.

you barely catch the words that fly out her mouth, brows furrowing as you look up from your work for the first time in hours. the swivel stool you sat on creaks as you sit up straighter, cringing from how long you held that crouching position.

“uh…. no.” you shake your head, confused as to why she brought it up. she was never the type to dwell on your life as a law student unless overhearing about a case study that seemed ‘too juicy’ to skip out on. “deadline’s like, next week so they’re just talking about the paper due the week after to describe our experience so far.”

“oh.” she says, sounding surprised. “well, did you find anything?”

you hum. “i’ve got an interview tomorrow. it’s multi-hire so i’ve got a good chance. why?”

“nothing really.” she shrugs, taking a breath as she scavenges the freezer, grabbing the first pint of ice cream she sees. “a friend of my cousin works at this law firm and i think she said they’re looking for a temp since she’s going out of the country for a while.”

you nod, chewing on the end of your pen. “send me their info. i’ll check it out.”

so that’s exactly what you do. your roommate helps you exchange information with this friend who you’ve learned to be is a young woman named shimizu. she worked as a assistant for an independent defense attorney, higuruma hiromi.

you’ve heard his name a few times from news outlets, primarily known to take on difficult cases but nonetheless highly skilled and quite honestly a prime example of what you hoped to become as far as talent.

shimizu was going overseas for a little over half a year. that’s entirely way more than what your assignment calls for but you would be paid well plus it could serve as the perfect job to strengthen your experience in law.

it didn’t take much for shimizu to hire you, her eagerness to hurry up and leave was clear. she sent you an email describing her normal routine, things to keep an eye on that higuruma normally forgets and a warning to just be patient for any cases he picks up.

naturally, you were nervous. palms sweating as you clutched your purse and tucked the folder shimizu provided tightly between your arm.

your heels clack with each step you make up into the building then finally, in bold letters, ‘higuruma law office’. you knock, looking around as you wait for a response.

“come in.”

the voice is so deep it sends chills down your spine. anxiety pools your chest as you twist the handle, making slow hesitant steps into the office.

it’s small but not cramping and fairly neat. you continue forward, making your presence known. who you assume to be higuruma sits at a chair, pen scribbling against a paper at an incredible speed.

he doesn’t look up at first, deeply sighing and too focused on the work in front of him. that is until he takes notice of your silence following your entry. his eyes immediately lift, dragging over your attire for a momentary second. “i’m sorry.” he clears his throat, standing then approaching you with his hand out. “how can i help you?”

“i… uhm… i’m y/n.” you meet his hand with a nervous smile. “i’m filling in for shimizu?” it’s embarrassing how unsure you sound as if you hadn’t met shimizu yourself telling you detail for detail about the duties of the job.

his brows furrow slightly as he slowly slips his hand from your weak grip. he checks his watch then runs his fingers through his hair. “right, right. i forgot about that…” he sighs, moreso to himself and then nods, pointing to the empty cubicle beside his. “take a seat, did shimizu already inform you on what we’re currently working on?”

you nod, carefully setting your belongings down and making yourself comfortable on the chair.

“could i see? if you don’t mind.” he stands over you, watching as you turn the monitor on with quickness and log in to your email account, surfing through the important ones you had starred before finally landing on shimizu’s.

higuruma leans over, his presence immediately makes you feel small and you can slightly feel the weight of his chest as he gently grabs the mouse from your hand.

you keep your eyes on the screen, fiddling with your fingers while he looks at the lengthy details relayed. suddenly, he takes a breath then clicks forward and slides the keyboard over.

“looks good.” he finally stands, eyes dropping down to you. “we’ll just be working on that for today. if anything changes i’ll let you know.”

for the first three weeks of working for higuruma goes the same way. coming into the office, saying hello, and him sharing any updates on the current case. some days call for extremely long hours, others are your typical. then there were days like today where you’d be traveling together and have to stay overnight at hotels.

one room, separate beds.you and higuruma hadn’t crossed that bridge of being comfortable with one another just yet. it was still awkward smiles and brief exchanges of conversation only in relation to work.

with the work day being over, you showered and decided to walk around the hotel for a bit, maybe grab a bite to eat. you also brought your textbooks and laptop so you could use the time to study for the baby bar you have coming up.

you sat at a table, eating as you focus on your studies. no more than half an hour passes when a figure approaches your table.

“mind if i sit?”

your eyes lift at the deep voice, widening for a short second as you realize it to be higuruma’s. he stands there in a plain black t-shirt and same colored plaid pajama pants with a plate of food in his hand.

it was different to see him in a more cosy state rather than being suited up. when you focus on the fact he’s still there, tilting his head as he waits on your response you sit up and nod a bit frantically.

“yes—yes, of course. please sit.” you gesture to the seat ahead of you which he takes.

it’s silent for a moment as you’re more frigid now, eyes glued to your book without reading a damn thing. higuruma pops a fry into his mouth, looking around the semi-packed dining area before returning his attention to you. “you’re still in school?”

you nod, “in my first year.”

he raises a subtle brow at that which you don’t even notice considering you’ve found it difficult to always make eye contact with him.

“first year?” he hums, chewing down on another fry. “you’re young.”

“i guess…” you laugh shyly. “it’s not like you’re old.”

he smiles at that, leaning in with his elbows on the table as he continues to take singular bites of his food. “you don’t think so? how old do you think i am?”

you shrug, finally lifting your eyes to scan the features of his face.

he was obviously older than you but you only deduced that from the way he talks and conducts himself yet he didn’t share any facial features that gave away his age.

“thirty?” you squint, not wanting to guess too high and he gets offended.

he chuckles, shaking his head. “no, but i’m honored you thought that low. i’m thirty six.”

“still young.” you smile, dropping your eyes back down.

“so what’re you learning?” he sighs, leaning back again, spreading his long legs to be more comfortable and points at your books.

“nothing really.” you mumble. “just studying for the baby bar.”

“wow…” he nods partially in shock, suddenly thinking of the age gap between you. it’s been so long since his days of staying up all day and all night long when preparing for that exam. “you think you’ve got it? i could help you out.”

you definitely don’t got it. there were still at least another two months before you’d have to take the exam. all the current information you were learning was still processing and quite honestly you had a habit of doubting your skills and weren’t sure if you’d be able to get the score you’re aiming to achieve.

you shake your head at higuruma’s offer. “no, it’s okay. you already have so much going on. i rather not add to that.”

“i’m offering.” he smiles warmly, wanting to assure that it wasn’t a big deal as he crosses his arms lazily across his chest.

it’s only for second that you ogle the surprising size of his bicep when it’s contracted. you shake your head again. “i’ll be fine. thank you though. i appreciate it.”

higuruma hums not pushing any further on the subject. “do you drink?” he asks after swallowing down a bite of his burger.

“sometimes.” you shrug, clicking through your documents of notes that you were hardly paying attention to with higuruma making small conversation.

“would you like to drink now?”

the second time you look at him you see the teasing look in his own as if he’s urging you to loosen up for the night. he’s clearly in the mood to get to know you. perhaps one night of a few drinks wouldn’t be so bad.

“i suppose…” you sport a bashful smile, clicking out of your tabs and shutting down your laptop. you set it aside with your textbooks as higuruma orders your first round of drinks.

it starts off timid as if he’s testing the waters with some cocktails then began to try a little of everything. tropical drinks, shots, beer, and wine. of course you limited yourself to one of each— aside from the shots due to the fact you had a busy day tomorrow but it was surely enough to get you a bit passed tipsy.

higuruma proved to be holding his liquor better than you, smiling fondly as you babble on about the targaryen family line. at first he was curious about a video you were laughing at from tiktok and had to explain it was from game of thrones. you then learned he never watched the show and thought he’d find major interest in it.

you would yap about the politics, power, family, loyalty, and corruption. though once you got to the targaryens, higuruma had to pause at the mention of inbreeding.

“so what’s the difference between velaryons’s and targaryen’s?”

“velaryon and targaryen are house names.” you giggle, toying with your straw. “family lines. being valyrian is like, their racial background.”

“interesting…” he nods, sipping on his rum & coke. “and what’s the relationship between uh… daenerys? and jon?”

“i really shouldn’t be telling you this.” you laugh. “don’t you want to watch it now?”

“…i guess you’re right.” he grins, followed by a sigh as he stretches his arms over his head. “should we watch it tonight?”

you check the time on your phone, it was late. nearing midnight. it was tempting to indulge in a late night watch of one of your favorite shows but you’d probably regret it by the morning.

you bite down on your bottom lip, hiding the smile that wants to show. “it’s late…” you sigh out. “we probably shouldn’t.”

“then let’s start now.” he urges, opening his wallet and dropping a few dollars to cover the tab and allow the server to end their night with a more than generous tip. “c’mon.” he gestures his head, holding his hand out to you.

even with being a little drunk, you still felt shy coming in such close contact with higuruma. as you lifted your hand to connect with his, he guided you through the hotel and it grew quieter upon reaching the elevators.

he’s still holding your hand, waiting for them to open. you attempt to ignore the way his thumb gently brushes against your skin rhythmically and how this must look to bystanders. the thought is cut short when the doors finally split open and higuruma lets go of your hand to palm your lower back.

higuruma follows you in, pressing the floor number. you stand side by side, him humming a soft tune whilst you stare down at your feet to avoid meeting his stare that you could feel burning into you.

it was like a breath of fresh air upon reaching your floor and seeing the doors open. higuruma places his hand to your back again, guiding you down the quiet hall before reaching your room.

he presses the keycard to the sensor, following you in. you take slow steps inside, dropping your laptop and textbook onto your bed.

“what’s it on?” he huffs, turning on the tv.

you make yourself comfortable under the sheets, sighing in relief from the cold. “hbo.”

he surfs for a few seconds before shaking his head. “i don’t think this tv has that.”

“oh…” you frown then look at your laptop. “i mean, we could watch it on my laptop?”

he turns, thinking on what that means.

you both knew that meant laying down on the same bed, next to each other. he rubs his chin in thought. “only if you’re okay with it.”

your body grows hot but you nod slowly, scooting over to make space for him. he eyes the empty space for a few seconds, making hesitant steps forward. “are you sure? we could always watch it another time.”

“…it’s okay.” you spoke softly. “i want to watch it with you.”

he smiles at that, proceeding to lift up the covers and tuck himself under the covers beside you. the immediate warmth of his skin brushes yours and the two of you look at each other the moment he’s settled.

his eye contact is so intense and… unsettling almost that it has chills run down your spine. you want to look away but higuruma speaks up before you can.

“you’re really shy for a future lawyer.”

your brows furrow at his statement. “m’not.”

“you are.” he chuckles, eyes low as he can feel the crash from all the drinks overtake him.

“i think it’s just you.” you boldly argue.

he raises a brow. “yeah? what about me makes you so shy?”

you open your mouth but nothing can follow through especially with him so close you can feel your stomach churn when you catch yourself looking at his lips. “just… shut up.” you huff, grabbing for your laptop.

higuruma laughs, watching you log into hbo, searching for game of thrones. he steps out of the bed momentarily to turn off the lights before you can press start.

you settle the laptop atop both your legs, sighing as you press play on the first episode.

within the first thirty minutes, you fall asleep, your head rested against higuruma’s shoulder. he stayed up through three episodes, thoroughly enjoying the cause of events but forced himself to go to sleep or else he’d be having a rough day.

by the time the morning comes and your alarm goes off, you groan softly, eyes struggling to flutter open. you aimlessly search for your phone, shutting off the annoying sound before laying back down but then you feel a touch of skin.

you fully open your eyes, face twisting in fear at the sight of higuruma in your bed sound asleep. you weren’t that drunk where you didn’t remember wanting to watch game of thrones together but you weren’t sure why he stayed on your bed through the rest of the night.

you poked him, the action immediately waking him up. he breathes heavily, eyes fluttering open. he turns his head to face you. “good morning.”

“…morning.” you mumble, all the slight confidence you gained last night completely gone. though you did feel a certain comfortability now around him.

“sleep okay?” he husks out, lifting himself from the bed.

you nod, nervously twisting the sheets.

he checks the time. it was still early and you wouldn’t be meeting with your client until the afternoon. “do you want breakfast?”

“sure.”

“anything in particular?” he grabs his keys from the nightstand, swinging them around his pointer finger.

“your choice.” you shrug.

he hums. “go shower. get dressed. i’ll be back.”

you do as he says, showering, getting dressed, then eat breakfast with him once he gets back.

the day follows on as planned, you meet with the client, discuss the case, write down details, aim to search for more evidence and layout options.

for the next few weeks, you spent long hours traveling with higuruma to collect more evidence in support of your case. for a time you were able to juggle all the work but the stress of your bar exam coming up was starting to take a toll.

you wanted more time to study but you also had to sacrifice a lot of time to help higuruma. so you start to force yourself to stay up most nights, hardly getting any sleep, caffeine intake drastically rising.

it not only began to present itself through your physical presence but with the way you interacted with higuruma. at first he could understand having been in your position of working between school, studying, and work but as the weeks passed he noticed your decline was starting to affect your work performance.

he’d allow for a few things to slide but not at the risk of a client's future behind bars. so when he asks you a question and you remain too zoned out to answer, he’ll sigh.

“y/n.”

“hm?” you’ll hum, pen twisting between your teeth, completely focused on the textbook laid out.

“look at me.” he commands, tone still gentle as he waits for your eyes to meet his. higuruma was completely aware of your inability to do so but he couldn’t care at the moment. so when you only lift them for a second as if to show you were listening then drop them back to your computer screen he shakes his head with a sigh.

you don’t even notice him stand then come around to palm your chair until he shuts your laptop closed and snatches the pen from your hand. he ignores your surprised reaction. “is this becoming too much for you?”

you frown, opening your mouth to say something but you can’t follow through. instead you shake your head.

he spins you in your seat, forcing you to face him. “can you look at me when i’m speaking to you, please?”

“higuruma, i’m sorry—” you start with a small pout, not listening to what he asked.

“you don’t need to apologize. just look at me.”

it’s silent for a few seconds and you finally flicker your eyes up to look at him. a hand rests on the chair, the other on your desk completely caging you in. you can smell the strong but warm scent of his cologne that radiates off his skin and clothes.

“is this too much for you?” he asks again. “i can give you a break.”

“n-no.” you deny his inquisition. “the work is fine. it’s just… the studying. i’ve got my exam coming up really soon, i’m sorry.”

“it’s fine.” he assures, “look, on the weekends and on our breaks, i’ll help you study. it’s not nice seeing you like this, okay?”

you nod and he stands at his full height, comfortably squeezing your shoulder then patting your head. “take a nap. you look like you need it.”

there was about one more month left until you’d have to take the exam and higuruma keeps through on his promise and dedicates any moment of extra time he has to help you study.

his methods actually allowed you to gain more sleep, balance work more appropriately, and retain the information easier. you genuinely felt like you were learning. you even complimented higuruma on his skills of teaching, claiming that he’d make a great professor.

this continues throughout the month until it was time for the actual day. he helped you study in the morning for a bit, not too much as he didn’t want to override your brain. he got you breakfast and decided to drop you off at the testing site.

“i’ll be right here, okay?”

you nod, looking at him with a solemn smile. you hesitate at first but overwhelmed by your emotions you reach over the console to give him a hug. “thank you…”

he lets out a breath that sounds close to a laugh, hands coming around to circle your body. his palm rubs up and down your back in a comforting motion. “you’ve got this.” he whispers. “good luck.”

you head into the building, gone for a total of three and a half hours. he fell asleep in the car for about an hour until he hears three rampant knocks to the passenger window.

he sees your figure standing there with other individuals following out the building. immediately, he unlocks the door, watching you hop into the car without a word.

“how do you think you did?” he sighs, turning the ignition of the car.

you can only shrug, anxiety riddled through your body. passing was the only option for you. you opted out in taking it the first month the exam is taken so you’d have more time to study. this was your last chance or else you wouldn’t be able to advance in your studies.

higuruma takes in your worrisome expression, reaching his hand out to gently squeeze your shoulder. “should we go out for some drinks?”

you let out a small laugh, looking at him and nodding.

the two of you settle for some small bar, doing the same as before. indulging in every kind of drink but still keeping limitations. eventually, higuruma suggested to watching game of thrones and you in your slightly drunk state of mind couldn’t deny.

you end up at his home because you were too scared of what your roommate might say if you brought higuruma home. you step into the threshold, eyes wide as you stare around in awe.

“why is it so empty?” you giggle, noticing the lack of… anything.

it was as if he simply bought the house and disregarded buying any furniture, dishes, and utensils. does he even live here? was your initial thought as you scavenged through his pantry, cabinets, and refrigerator only to find nothing that could saturate your hunger.

“i spend most of my time at the office.” he huffs, tugging off his suit jacket and tossing it on his sofa. “i mainly come back here to shower and change clothes.”

you hum, clutching your purse as you continue to look around, dragging your fingers along surfaces.

that’s sort of become your lifestyle too now. you’ve no doubt seen higuruma more than your own roommate— which supported why you definitely couldn’t bring him over without warning.

he steps towards you, pointing to your purse and jacket. “would you like to shower?”

“that’d be nice…” you nod, handing him your belongings to toss with his jacket.

he grabs an extra towel he luckily had and his pajamas for you to wear since you didn’t have any clothes of your own. “i plan to order some food, do you want anything in particular?”

“dealer’s choice.” you smile at him. he nods, leaving you to shower as he picks on what to eat. you shower for about half an hour as you spent half of that time snooping around his restroom for any indication of a woman being here.

it was surely none of your business but you couldn’t help but find yourself intrigued by higuruma. naturally, amongst the things you wondered about was if he shared a life with someone. though it should’ve been obvious with the way he never spends his time at home and the simple fact of you being here.

you dried yourself off, putting on his clothes and unsure of where to put the used towel, you walk into his bedroom searching for a hamper. though you find yourself eager to just look around. there wasn’t much to find except for the basics.

you open his closet and find a wide range of suits all in black and white along with his pajamas that were the same color. he also had a distinct collection of watches and cologne.

you end up spraying the different fragrances into the air, adoring the mixture of them being woody, earthy, and citrusy. you take one, spraying it onto yourself.

“having fun?”

you turn fast on your feet, startled by his voice. he sports a teasing smile and you can’t help but feel your body grow hot in embarrassment. “um… sorry…” you laugh nervously, placing the cap back on to the cologne and settling it back in its original spot.

he shakes his head, fond of how you looked, “it’s alright. i ordered chinese.” he then hands you the remote to the tv and his phone for you to track the food. “log in to hbo. i’ll go take a quick shower.”

you nod, heading back out and taking a seat on his sofa. you log into hbo and as you waited, you ended up using his phone to scroll through tiktok. you definitely could’ve used your own but it felt more fun to use his considering the fact he didn’t even have the app in the first place.

the food arrived and within ten minutes after higuruma was done with his shower, fully dressed. he was wearing the same thing as you with the exception of his clothes looking larger on your frame.

he takes a seat beside you, spreading out the arrangement of food he bought on the mini table he had. you press play on the show and hour after hour you felt happier, completely forgetting that you even had an exam today. forgetting that you spent months worrying about this very day all thanks to higuruma.

you always grew a certain amount of courage after drinking so it went without a thought for you to sigh after feeling full then lean sideways to rest your head on his shoulder.

“thank you for today.” you mumble, eyes glued to the screen.

higuruma’s sprawled back, legs spread until you lean against him.

he doesn’t want to think too hard about the current proximity, simply enjoying the moment as he throws an arm around you so you’d feel more comfortable snuggling up to him.

“you deserved it.” he squeezes you gently and you don’t say anything in response, just cozying up to him some more.

from that day, you and higuruma grew closer than ever and you began to notice that you often thought about him, smiled at him more, opened up, and gained the courage to look at him longer.

with every compliment, touch, and night that you spent at his house watching game of thrones whilst eating food, there was no denying that you shared particular feelings for him.

and as the weeks past, you began to wonder what you should do with these feelings until the time came where the scores for the bar exam were out. the two of you were sat in the office per usual, and you received an email notification describing that the scores for the exam were out and where to check them.

you swallowed thickly, logging in to your admissions portal.

“did you ever get a copy of the prosecution's discovery?” higuruma asks, mindlessly flipping through a file.

his question is followed by silence and he’ll lift his head. “y/n?”

upon the continuous silence, higuruma rolls on his chair, peeking his head over to your cubicle to see you hiding your face and your shoulders shaking. concerned at the sight, he stands, and approaches you to palm your shoulder and that’s when he begins to understand that you’re crying when a fragile sob falls past your lips.

his heart burns at the broken sound. “what’s wrong?” his eyes lift to your monitor and see the familiar page of the exam results. he scrolls through the letter to see you’ve passed.

a laugh of relief spills from his throat, glad that your reaction isn’t due to any devastating news. his hand circles around your wrist and tugs at it. “come here.”

you slowly stand, allowing your emotions to flow upon feeling his arms encircle you tightly. you’ll cry into his chest, managing to thank him through your tears. he’ll shush you, rubbing at your back and cradling the back of your head.

“you did such a good job.” he murmurs into your hair.

he continues to mumble praises into your hair and ear, holding and consoling you until your crying has calmed down. once he hears you letting out small breaths to control your breathing, he pulls back, wiping at your tear stained cheeks. “i’m so proud of you.”

your body grows hot at the compliment paired with his stare as he gently cups your cheek, thumb swiping across the skin.

you let out a shaky breath, not sure if it was from your crying or that feeling pooling between your legs. your eyes drop down to his lips then back up to his eyes. higuruma does the same and you can’t help but curl your fingers around his dress shirt.

both of your breathing picks up and neither of you are sure of what to do in this moment. you can feel his free hand drop from your back then down to your waist as you each exchange flickering looks between your lips and eyes.

“higuruma…” you breathe out and he shakes his head, closing his eyes then pressing his forehead to yours.

“hiromi.” he corrects, switching his hand that cups your cheeks to palm the back of your neck. “my name… say it. that’s all i need.”

you fight the whine that bubbles in your throat, gripping tightly onto him as you open your mouth. “hiromi…”

he gives in at the immediate desperation his name holds, roughly pressing you against him so your lips could meet.

the two of you have your hands moving everywhere along your bodies and a gasp rushes from your lungs as he frantically lifts you onto the desk.

items clatter everywhere as he knocks them away whilst dipping his tongue into your mouth. it’s frantic and eager the way your mouths clash together. soft groans and moans spilling into the air as papers crumble beneath your figure.

you kick off your heels as hiromi hikes your skirt around your hips, pressing your back against the surface and knocking your legs open with his knees, revealing the lace panties hidden underneath them.

he presses himself against you with a rough groan, one hand hoisting your leg at his waist, whilst the other taps your cheek then grips your face to press into them. “open.”

your jaw widens, and hiromi hums before spitting in your mouth then leaning in to connect your lips again.

he’s hard and big.

it’s all you can think of as your tongues mesh together in perfect harmony.

weeks of built up feelings that you both tried so hard to fight all falling at the seams. you reach up to tug at his black roots as he unconsciously ruts himself against your clothed core.

you take advantage when he finally pulls away, a string of saliva following with him. his lips are swollen and covered in spit as he leans down to kiss along your jaw, then suck at the skin of your neck. you pant feverishly against his ear, gripping tighter onto him each time his bulge connects with your clit just right.

deep shaky breaths fly through his nose as rolls his hips, eyes squeezing tightly from the tightness building in his pants. it felt so fucking good to hear those soft whimpers and moans escape your lips. “feels so good.” he groans, pressing his forehead against yours. you two practically rubbing against each other like bunnies in heat without even starting the main course.

you whimper feeling yourself clench around nothing. your hands grasp for higuruma and he hums, kissing just below your ear. “gonna cum?”

you nod, mouth slacked open as he breathes harshly against your neck. “that’s okay, sweetheart.” he huffs, using his free hand to travel down between your bodies. fuck, he thinks the moment his fingers feel how drenched your panties are. your eyes blow wide as he pinches your clothed clit then rubs in tight circles. “you can cum, it’s okay.”

“oh my god.” you tremble and writhe against his lengthy figure, clawing at his back and arms as you feel lost on what to hold on with your orgasm building every second.

he stops the movement of his hips, grasping your neck so you’d be staring straight at him as he picks up the pace of his fingers. “come on.” he licks his lips, maintaining the eye contact he forces you to hold. “i wanna see you. you’re almost there.”

“hiromi—” you choke on the air, threatening to close your eyes but he shakes your head, warning you to keep them open as your body trembles from the euphoria that overcomes you.

“good job.” he wipes at your forehead and cheeks, standing to his full height. you use his tie to lift yourself up, meeting your lips again and immediately sloshing your tongue with his. while he fumbles to unbutton your shirt you do the same then aggressively toss off his tie. his large hands grope at your breast before unclipping your bra to flick and twist at your nipple. you moan into his mouth, fingertips caressing the light muscles of his abs.

he finds it quite amusing how you flinch with each twist and tug but nonetheless you let him continue his worship of your body. he leaves your skirt cinched around your waist, squeezing your hips then slowly tugs your panties down your legs.

you can’t imagine what he plans to do next until he drops both his hands behind your thighs, pressing them down as far as he can before bending down to dip his head between your legs.

his tongue flattens against your leaking hole, sucking up all slick your pussy produced. you reach straight for his hair, choking on a moan. “w-wait, i can’t.” you tell him, quivering at the sudden sensation. it certainly didn’t help with how big his nose is, he had the advantage to nudge it against your clit each lick and suck.

“i just want to taste you.” his voice vibrates against you, eliciting a strangled moan out of you. “is that okay, love?” he pulls back momentarily, mouth and nose coated in your juices as he presses a kiss to either side of your thighs.

what gets you is the fact he genuinely waits on your response. you nod feebly and he presses a kiss to your clit. “thank you.” is all he says before continuing his actions. your eyes immediately squeeze shut and you’re not sure if you’re trying to push his head or pull him closer. regardless, your back arches off the desk, pulling at his hair as he holds you down to prevent any more of your squirming.

a sound of absolute satisfaction rumbles in his chest and higuruma loses himself in your taste. he’s quite filthy really. you would’ve never expected him to be the type of man that relentlessly switches between licking, spitting, and sucking the way he does. a small pool of liquid has likely formed under you by now.

“r-romi, m’ gonna cum.” he hears, feeling the way you buck up against his mouth and quite literally has to force himself off you at the announcement. he seethes in a breath, huffing and puffing, licking around his mouth.

higuruma stands straight again, unbuckling his belt, letting out a soft breath as he no longer feels constricted. your eyes fall when he drops his pants and briefs. shit. i mean, you figured he was big but not that fucking big.

you yelp as he pulls you to the edge of the table, slapping his thick cock against your drooling hole that pulses around nothing.

“can i?” he collects your mess between his fingers, spreading your folds and gliding his shaft between them.

you nod but higuruma shakes his head then grips your neck to pull you up. “tell me, sweetheart. can i?”

“p-please.” you look up at him, all doe eyed and desperate. his hand squeezes your neck and keeps you looking at him as he uses his other hand to pull you closer, prodding in just the tip then slowly pushes himself into your warm, gushing cunt. your mouth slacks open at the stretch, gasping for air as higuruma squeezes tighter from the way you sporadically clench around his length.

he’s only halfway in and it’s taking all his energy to not cum. your pussy is torturously sucking him in, so much so a quivering grunt echoes from his chest. he pats your thigh in response. “ease up, it’s just me, darling.” he tells you, and you want to laugh at how serious he’s being. ease up? not fucking possible when at least eight inches length and formidable girth was pushing itself into you.

once he’s finally filled to the hilt. your legs cross around his hips, grasping his wrist, preventing him from squeezing too tight on your throat. “you’re always such a good girl… so smart and beautiful.” he praises, leaning in to peck your lips then follows with butterflies kisses along your jaw and neck then comes back up to meet your lips again. your mouths twist slower, fiery and brimmed with passion to distract you from the roll of his hips.

“so warm.” he moans against your lips, biting down and sucking on your bottom one. he finally lets go of your neck, pushing you on your back again then clasping both thighs as leverage to pummel himself deep into your pussy. he groans along to your whimpers and moans, dark eyes focused on the imprint that shows itself on your stomach with every thrust.

his light abs glisten with sweat, his brows furrowed as he zones into the way he disappears in and out of your pussy that sucks him in and coats his base white.

papers crumble beneath your fist as your moans are pulled closer together, the indication that your orgasm was fast approaching. the effect likely to be huge since you already had your first and was denied your second. hiromi grunts, fixing you into a mean semi-mating press, legs over his shoulders as his balls mercilessly slap against your skin to echo around the office space.

“gonna cum.” you quiver but higuruma smacks your clit as if that’s supposed to help.

“hold it.”

“i-i can’t.” you look at him, pouting.

his eyes snap up to meet yours and he smacks you again. “hold it.”

he somehow moves faster and harder, harshly breathing with sweat beading down his temple. after a minute, you’re completely spent, eyes watering as you shake your head. “romi, please. i can’t hold it.”

“shhh.” he huffs, pressing his palm over your mouth, viciously chasing the high of his orgasm. he rolls his eyes shut, sticking two fingers into your mouth. “go. hurry up and cum.”

it’s only a few seconds after his command that your waves come crashing down, body yearning to close upon itself due to the overstimulation but higuruma keeps you spread open, still thrusting for what feels like over a minute.

he pulls out, a hand immediately coming to pump at his length, the other angling your body just right so when he forces your mouth open, hot spurts of his cum land on your breasts, chin, and tongue.

hiromi takes a breath that sounds like he’s inhaling fresh air, squeezing at his tip to extract every ounce of his fill. he takes a good and long look at your weak body, collecting his remains that landed on you to push back into your mouth.

“so beautiful…” he cups your cheek, holding you upright since you clearly can’t. “you alright? did i hurt you?”

“no… i’m okay.” you mumble, staring up at him as if he held up the moon and stars. “was i?… okay?”

“absolutely, love.” his brows furrow, gently caressing your skin as he looks at you. “more than okay. perfect.”

you smile shyly at that and he has a similar question on his mind as he helps in cleaning you up. “are we okay?”

“am i okay for you?”

hiromi has begun to understand your naturally shy and timid nature but it also crossed his mind that your sense of overthinking would come into play with your age gap.

it wasn’t drastic of course but he would never want to put you in a position that made you seemingly uncomfortable.

you nod with a small smile, gripping his bicep and pulling him in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “more than okay… perfect.”

© teefushi × do not copy, translate, modify or repost any of my work on any platform, or claim it as your own.

[splurtz]

IS IT A CRIME TO LET YOUR LAW PROFESSOR FUCK YOU ON YOUR COUCH?

SYPNOSIS. after that heated encounter in his office, you've been dodging his lectures and ignoring every reminder of what happened that night. higuruma hiromi is more frustrated than ever—until he finally stops waiting and takes what you've both been circling for weeks.

— PART ONE

PAIRING. law prof! higuruma hiromi x law student! reader

WC. 4.4k

CONTENT. MDNI. professor/student. age gap. oral sex (f receiving). vaginal sex. unprotected sex. dirty talk. light degradation. usual rain trope lololol.

A/N. art by hunnismoker on x. first post after getting flagged !!!

you’ve been ghosting his class for almost two weeks.

not on purpose…at least, that’s what you tell yourself. it started innocently enough when midterms starts, three back-to-back exams in four days was hell. then the cold came, a scratchy throat turning into fever. you told yourself you’d catch up once the fog cleared but even after the fever broke, you didn’t go back.

a stupid group project drama piled on next. one groupmate ghosted entirely, another argued over every citation, and the third kept rewriting your sections without asking. you spent nights in the library staring at shared google docs, highlighter bleeding through pages you weren’t reading, mind drifting somewhere else entirely.

and underneath all of it was the real reason.

the humiliating, pulsing truth you couldn’t admit out loud even to yourself.

every time you pictured walking into that lecture hall, sliding into your usual seat, you felt his eyes on you again. the one he gave you that monday evening in his office when the door was locked and your knees were on carpet and his hand was fisted in your hair.

the memory played on cruel repeat, you could still taste him—still feel the stretch of your throat when he fucked it.

you tried to study criminal intent the way you always had: highlighters, flashcards, color-coded notes. but every time the mens rea slides appeared in your mind, you saw him at the podium instead. black marker in hand, diagramming voluntary manslaughter like it was nothing, his voice never failing to sound low and tired.

you imagined him turning to the board and writing your name in the margin next to “reckless disregard.” imagined him underlining “guilty mind” twice, then looking back at you over his shoulder with that unreadable stare.

your stomach would knot. your thighs would press together under whatever table you were hiding at. heat would crawl up your neck and settle low in your belly until you had to excuse yourself to the bathroom just to breathe.

so you skipped.

there’s no way you could focus anyway.

one lecture became two. two became four. by the sixth absence you were submitting everything online. you polished every pdfs attached to curt emails with subject lines like “week 7 reading response” and “torts ii problem set.” you were still doing the work. still getting As on the assignments he graded without comment. no one could say you weren’t keeping up.

but he noticed.

higuruma hiromi doesn’t chase students. he doesn’t send gentle “concerned professor” emails with smiley faces or pull anyone aside after class with a hand on the shoulder and a murmured “is everything alright?” he isn’t built that way. he marks absences in neat red ink on the roster. 

so you knew he’d seen it. knew because the last assignment you submitted came back with feedback that was longer than usual.

“strong analysis of actus reus, but your discussion of mens rea lacks depth. consider the subjective vs objective standard more carefully. office hours are still available if clarification is needed.” 

was that an invitation? you don’t know.

you deleted the email without replying. closed your laptop. buried your face in your pillow and tried not to think about how badly you wanted to walk into his office again.

instead you stayed away.

it’s a thursday evening and the sky is already dark by 5:30, rain hammering the campus like it’s trying to wash the whole place clean. you’re huddled under the inadequate bus shelter outside the law building. you opened your phone for the third time to check the ETA, the next bus kept getting pushed back.

your fingers are numb on the screen. the cold seeps through your hoodie, makes your teeth chatter in small, embarrassing bursts.

you keep thinking about how stupid this is—standing here freezing when you could have easily just stayed in your apartment with the heater on and another excuse not to face him.

you only came here cause you needed air.

you needed it because every time you close your eyes all you see is him.

the tired lines around his eyes that made him look older and sharper. the way his jaw tightened right before he told you to open your mouth. the low rasp in his voice when he said “that’s it” while he pushed deeper, like he was grading your ability to take him.

it's making you insane.

it makes your chest ache now. it’s not just want, you actually need him. shame mixed with this stupid, gnawing need to know if he thinks about it too. if he replays the way you looked up at him with tears in your eyes, or the sound you made when he finally let you breathe. you hate how much space he takes up in your head.

headlights cut through the downpour suddenly. a black sedan slows, pulls right up to the curb in front of the shelter. the passenger window slides down with a quiet hum.

“get in.”

his voice slices through the rain noise.

you stare for a second. higuruma is behind the wheel, his face is half-shadowed, but you can see the faint crease between his brows.

you hesitate.

“i’m not waiting,” he says. “the bus is delayed. you’ll be here another half hour at least.”

you feel your pulse jump in your throat. it’s really him, sitting there in the driver’s seat with the same rolled sleeves and the same tired expression you’ve been replaying for weeks. part of you wants to stay right where you are under the shelter and keep pretending none of this exists, because getting in the car means facing whatever this is head-on. but the cold is biting through your hoodie, your jeans are soaked at the bottom, and the thought of waiting out here alone while he drives away makes your chest tighten. you already know you’re going to regret it either way, but standing here freezing feels worse than whatever happens next.

your feet move before you decide. you duck out from under the shelter, yank the door open, slide inside. the door thuds shut and suddenly the world is muffled…everything else gone quiet except your own heartbeat thumping loud in your ears.

higuruma doesn’t look at you right away. just checks the mirrors, pulls away from the curb smooth and controlled.

silence stretches awkwardly for a few minutes.

“address,” he says finally.

you rattle off your off-campus place a few miles away. he nods while he inputs it into the gps without comment. the screen glows blue on the dash … then more silence. the wipers sweep steady as you steal glances at him, his hands on the wheel look steady, veins standing out against his skin. 

“six absences,” he says out of nowhere. “consistent, aren’t you?”

“i submitted everything on time.”

“i know.” he flicks the turn signal, merges left. “your work is fine. better than fine but you’re not in the room. that’s still a problem.”

you swallow, “i’ve been busy. you know midterms…group stuff, also got sick for a bit.”

“convenient timing.” he chuckles as heat floods your face. 

“it’s not like that.”

“isn’t it?” he glances over. “you avoid the lecture hall, avoid my eyes. but you still send polished assignments like nothing happened.”

“i didn’t know what else to do.”

“you could have come to office hours.” his tone is even, you almost hear boredom in it. “asked for clarification on mens rea like i suggested in the feedback. like a normal student.”

but that’s the thing, there’s nothing normal about this.

“i didn’t think you meant it,” you mumble.

“i don’t say things i don’t mean.”

the car fills with quiet again. 

“where do you live?” you ask suddenly, desperate to change the subject, to make this feel normal.

he raises an eyebrow. “why?”

“just curious. i mean you know where i live now.”

“apartment near the courthouse district. walking distance, it’s convenient.”

“do you… drive students home often?” 

“no.”

another turn, the surroundings are familiar now. your complex is coming up soon.

“you’ve been thinking about it,” he says. 

“about what?” you play dumb.

“monday.” he doesn’t elaborate, he doesn’t need to.

you press your thighs together, try to ignore the pulse between them. “yeah.”

“and?”

“and it’s hard to sit in class pretending it didn’t happen.”

he pulls into the loading zone in front of your building. you hear the engine idles, rain drums on the roof. he finally turns to look at you—like really look. eyes dark and unreadable, but you want to believe that there’s something under the tiredness. hunger, maybe. or just patience wearing thin.

“then stop pretending,” he says quietly.

you stare at him. 

“come inside,” you whisper. “just… to get out of the rain.”

he studies you for a long second. then reaches for the keys, kills the engine.

the sudden quiet is deafening.

he gets out first, circles around, opens your door like it’s nothing. you step out into the downpour again, colder now after the heater. he doesn’t offer an umbrella…he probably doesn’t have one. just waits while you fumble for your keys, both of you getting soaked in the short walk to the entrance.

inside the stairwell it’s warmer, but your clothes are heavy with rain and dripping onto the concrete steps. you lead the way up, feeling him right behind you—close enough that you can hear the soft squeak of his shoes on each stair, feel the faint heat coming off him even through the damp air. 

your hands shake a little when you unlock the door. it swings open into the small entryway, string lights from the living room spilling faint yellow across the floor.

you step inside first, kick off your soaked sneakers by the mat. he follows closing the door, he doesn’t take off his shoes right away, he stands there observing your place. he takes a mental note of it, looking at the stack of textbooks on the coffee table, the open laptop with his class portal still pulled up, the half-empty mug of tea.

you turn the lamp on higher, then head to the kitchenette to grab towels. anything to keep moving. “i’ll get something to dry off with,” you mutter, mostly to fill the quiet.

when you come back with two towels, he’s already peeled off his wet jacket and hung it over the back of a chair. his shirt is clinging in places—white fabric turned semi-transparent over his chest and shoulders, sleeves still rolled up, forearms flexing when he takes the towel from you. 

he dries his hair roughly, then his face, eyes never leaving yours.

you try to focus on drying your own arms, but your gaze keeps dropping to the way the wet shirt outlines the lines of his body—the faint definition of muscle under the fabric, the dark trail of hair visible through the damp material where it sticks to his stomach. your mouth goes dry. you remember exactly how that skin felt under your palms last time, how his abs tensed when you swallowed around him.

he notices it. 

“you’re still shivering,” he says, voice low. he steps closer, takes the towel from your hands, and starts drying your hair himself. fingers brushing your scalp through the fabric. it’s so gentle that you froze.

“take the hoodie off,” he says after a moment.

your fingers fumble with the hem. the wet fabric peels away from your skin with a cold suck, leaving you in just your thin t-shirt and bra underneath. the shirt is clinging too, nipples hard from the chill and from him watching. you cross your arms instinctively.

he drops the towel on the floor. reaches out, hooks two fingers under the hem of your t-shirt, and tugs it up slowly. you lift your arms without thinking. the shirt comes off, lands somewhere behind you. his eyes drop to your chest, then back to your face.

“still cold?” he asks.

you shake your head. you’re burning now.

he steps in until your back hits the wall by the entryway. one hand plants beside your head, the other slides down your side, thumb brushing the underside of your breast through the bra making you inhale sharply.

“tell me to stop,” he says quietly.

you don’t.

you don’t want him to stop.

his mouth finds yours—harder than the first time he kissed you in your memory. there’s no buildup, just pure hunger. his tongue pushes in immediately and you moan into it, hands scrambling up his wet shirt, fingers digging into the fabric over his chest. he groans low against your lips, presses his hips forward so you feel how hard he already is through his slacks.

your fingers curl into the wet cotton of his shirt, pulling him closer even though there’s already no space left between you.

he breaks the kiss first, just enough to speak against your lips. “kitchen counter now.”

you nod, legs shaky as you lead him the few steps into the narrow kitchenette. he doesn’t give you time to think. his hands find your waist, lift you onto the counter in one smooth motion like you weigh nothing. the cold granite bites into the backs of your thighs through your damp jeans. you gasp at the temperature difference.

“these need to come off,” he mutters, fingers already working the button of your jeans. you lift your hips when he tugs, helping him peel the soaked denim down your legs along with your underwear. 

you’re bare from the waist down now, legs dangling off the edge, thighs trembling slightly from the chill and anticipation. his eyes tracing the curve of your hips, the soft skin of your inner thighs, the way you’re already glistening for him.

“spread wider,” he says.

his palms slide up the insides of your thighs, thumbs brushing close but not quite touching where you want him most. you desperately shift forward, chasing his hands; he presses one palm flat to your lower stomach, holding you still.

“patience,” he murmurs. “you’ve been avoiding me for two weeks. you can wait a little longer.”

“hey i told you i wasn’t–”

“ah yes, right… you were busy, right pretty?”

his thumb finally grazes your clit and your hips jerk. he does it again, slower, watching your face the whole time. your breath comes in short pants. he circles then collects wetness on his fingers before bringing them back up to rub slowly.

“you’re soaked,” he continues, “been like this the whole ride?”

“since you pulled up,” you admit, which makes him hum in approval. two fingers slide inside you without warning, stretching you open. you moan, head tipping back against the cabinets.

“look at me,” he says.

you force your eyes open. his expression is focused, almost clinical, but his pupils are blown wide and there’s a flush high on his cheekbones. 

he’s affected too.

he adds a third finger, stretching you further. the slight burn only makes it better. 

“good,” he mutters. “just like that.”

his free hand comes up to cup the back of your neck, pulling you into another kiss. his tongue fucking into your mouth in time with his fingers. you’re rocking against his hand now, chasing the pressure, little whimpers escaping between kisses.

“mhm…so good.”

he pulls his fingers out right when you’re teetering on the edge which you whine in protest.

“not yet,” he says against your mouth. “want you to come on my tongue first.”

he drops to his knees between your spread legs. the sight of him there, kneeling on your kitchen floor, hair damp and messy from the rain—it does so much things to you. he hooks your legs over his shoulders, hands gripping your thighs to hold you open.

he doesn’t tease this time. just leans in and licks a long, slow stripe from your entrance to your clit. you cry out, hands flying to his hair. you feel him groan against you. his tongue is relentless, pointed flicks over your clit, then sucking it between his lips. he alternates, never letting you settle into one sensation long enough to predict it.

“hiromi—” his name comes out broken.

he pulls back just enough to speak. “you can go louder, right? wanna to hear it.”

“hiromi,” you moan again, louder this time. he rewards you by sucking hard on your clit while two fingers slide back inside, curling ruthlessly against that spot.

you’re dangerously close. your thighs start to shake around his head. he doesn’t let up, he keeps the same steady rhythm, tongue and fingers working in perfect tandem.

“come,” he orders, voice muffled against you. “now.”

your whole body tensing as you come apart on his tongue. you cry out his name, fingers tightening in his hair, hips grinding against his face. he doesn’t stop until you’re whimpering from overstimulation.

he finally pulls back, his lips and chin all shiny. he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, stands slowly. his erection is straining against his slacks now.

it’s obvious and thick.

you reach for his belt with shaky hands. he lets you undo it, lets you push his slacks and boxers down just enough to free him. he’s heavy in your hand, hot and hard, precum beading at the tip. you start to stroke him making him hiss through his teeth.

“enough,” he says, catching your wrist. “want inside you.”

he lifts you off the counter, hands under your thighs again. he turns, carries you a few steps into the living room, and drops down onto the couch with you straddling his lap. the cushions sink under your combined weight. 

his cock is still hard, pressed up against your stomach now. he lifts you just enough to line himself up. you feel the blunt head nudge at your entrance…thick and insistent.

“relax,” he says, “breathe, won’t you? let me in.”

you try. you really do. but the stretch is already intense just from the tip pressing in, and your body tenses instinctively. you bite your lip, hands braced on his shoulders.

“i’m trying…” you mutter, half-laugh, half-whine. “...you’re big.”

he huffs a quiet laugh against your collarbone, the sound rough and amused. “i know but you took it fine with your mouth before, this should be easier. just relax those hips for me.”

his thumbs rub slow circles over your hipbones, coaxing. you exhale shakily, try to loosen up, but when he starts pushing in harder.

your breath hitches and your nails dig into his shoulders.

“easy,” he murmurs. “why’re you fighting me?”

“hey i-im trying,” you repeat pouting. “but y-you’re stretching me so much.”

he pauses halfway in, lets you adjust. his hands slide up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts, then back down to your ass. he squeezes gently, spreads you a little more.

“there you go,” he says. “good girl. feel that? you’re opening up for me already.”

you can feel every inch of him...too thick and hot, it burns in the best way, that full, almost-too-much pressure that makes your thighs shake. inside, he feels heavy like he’s pressing right up against every sensitive spot at once. 

“fuck,” he mutters, forehead dropping to your shoulder for a second. “you feel—shit…so tight. like you’re trying to keep me out and pull me in at the same time.”

you both groan at the same time when he pushes all the way inside.

“you okay?” he asks, one hand to come up to brush damp hair off your forehead.

“yeah,” you whisper. “just really full. you feel huge like this.”

“good,” he says. “you want me to move?”

you nod fast, breath coming in short bursts. “yes please.”

“then tell me properly. use your words. what do you want, hm?”

you swallow feeling slightly embarrassed. he’s looking right at you, eyes half-lidded but sharp, waiting. 

“i want you to fuck me,” you mumble.

he tilts his head, one eyebrow lifting. “that’s cute but i said properly baby.”

your thighs twitch around his hips. he’s still buried all the way inside, the fullness is driving you insane. you can feel every vein, every slight shift when he breathes.

“hiromi…” you whine, rocking your hips a little.

he tightens his grip, holding you still. “nuh-uh. no cheating. say it like you mean it. you’ve been hiding from me for two weeks—least you can do is ask nicely.”

you bite your lip, embarrassment and need twisting together until it hurts. “i want you to fuck me hard,” you say, louder this time, “pleasee…i-i need it.”

he smirks again, feeling satisfied. the corner of his mouth tilting up just enough to show he likes hearing you beg.

“there we go,” he says quietly, “that wasn’t hard, was it?” his hands slide to your ass, fingers digging in as he lifts you a couple inches, then drops you back down hard onto his cock. the sudden thrust makes you yelp.

“o-oh hiromi-"

he doesn’t let you catch your breath. starts fucking up into you. each thrust is deep enough to make your whole body jolt while the couch groans under you both, springs protesting every time he bottoms out.

“does this turn you on?” he asks, “fucking your professor on your shitty little couch? hm?”

you moan louder than you mean to, head tipping back,

“thought so.” he thrusts harder, one hand sliding up to grip the back of your neck, keeping your face close to his. “been skipping my class, sending me perfect little assignments like nothing’s wrong, but every time you typed my name you were probably dripping thinking about this. about me splitting you open just like this.”

you can only moan in return too gone to comprehend what he’s saying. he curses under his breath when he feels you clench, pace turning rougher. the wet slap of skin on skin is loud in the quiet apartment, mixing with your gasps and his heavy breathing.

“look at you,” he mutters, eyes locked on where you’re taking him. “taking it so well. my good little student, finally getting what she’s been aching for.”

he shifts his angle slightly, tilting his hips so every thrust drags right against that spot inside you. your eyes flutter shut, mouth falling open on a broken moan.

his face is flushed, hair falling into his eyes, jaw tight with restraint. but he’s watching you like he’s memorizing every twitch. like this won’t happen again.

“tell me,” he says, voice dropping lower. “tell me whose cock is making you feel this good right now.”

“yours,” you gasp. “ah hiromi’s! only yours—”

he rewards you with a particularly deep grind, rolling his hips so the base presses hard against your clit. “that’s right,” he murmurs. “and you’re gonna come on it again. gonna soak my lap like the needy little slut you are for me.”

his hand slips between you, fingers finding your clit, rubbing fast, firm circles that match the brutal rhythm of his hips. your stomach tightens, thighs trembling uncontrollably.

“puh...please i’m close.”

“i know,” he says, voice strained now. “can feel you fluttering around me. go on come. make a mess…it’s yours anyway.”

it hits fast and hard. your whole body locks up, back arching, cry ripping out of your throat as you come apart.

“fuck—good girl—fuck—”

he keeps fucking you through it, drawing it out until you’re shaking, until his thrusts turn sloppy. 

“where do you want it?”

“inside,” you gasp immediately. “please inside.”

that’s all it takes. he grinds deep as he comes, filling you up. he groans long and low against your neck, arms wrapping tight around your waist, holding you down on him while he rides it out.

for a long minute neither of you moves. all heavy breathing, sticky skin, the faint patter of rain still outside. you can feel him softening slowly.

he kisses your shoulder, then your jaw, then the corner of your mouth.

“you good?” he asks quietly.

you nod against his chest, still catching your breath. “yeah. really good.”

he huffs a small laugh, hand stroking slow down your back. “what do you wanna do?”

you’re still straddling him. the living room smells like rain and sex. your forehead is pressed to his shoulder.

“stay,” you mumble into his neck. “stay like this a little longer.”

his fingers keep tracing lazy lines up and down your spine, from the nape of your neck all the way to the small of your back, then back up again. it’s soothing in a way that makes your eyelids heavy.

his gaze drifts past your shoulder, landing on the open laptop still glowing faintly on the coffee table. the screen’s dimmed but not off since his class portal is still pulled up from earlier.

“this where you took one of the photos?” he asks casually.

your stomach drops and flips at the same time. heat rushes back to your face so fast it makes you dizzy.

“what?” you whisper, even though you know exactly what he means.

he nods toward the couch. “right here on this cushion. ass up, looking back over your shoulder. the third one you sent. background looked familiar, same string lights in the corner, same throw blanket bunched up like that.” his hand pats the cushion beside you. “thought it might’ve been the bedroom at first but no kitchen light’s wrong for that angle. had to be here.”

you bury your face deeper into his neck, mortified. “hiromi…”

“what?” he sounds genuinely amused now, the low rumble vibrating through his chest. “you’re the one who attached it to an entrapment analysis. i had to look closely.”

you groan, half-laugh half-embarrassed whimper. “i didn’t mean for you to—i mean, i didn’t plan—”

“sure,” he cuts in gently, fingers sliding into your hair, scratching lightly at your scalp. “but you didn’t delete it either.”

you lift your head just enough to peek at him.

“you kept them?” you ask quietly.

he doesn’t hesitate. “yeah, all three. printed them out, remember? filed them under ‘supplemental materials.’” he pauses, thumb brushing your cheek. “don't get me wrong, it's not for grading, it's more for...reference...?"

“reference for what?”

“for nights when i’m grading papers at 2 a.m. and wondering why a certain student keeps disappearing from my lecture hall.” he continues, “or for when i need to remember exactly how you looked when you were trying to tempt me into breaking every rule in the faculty handbook.”

“and… did it work?”

he looks at you for a long second, then leans in and kisses you, a simple one. when he pulls back his forehead rests against yours.

“obviously,” he mutters. “look where we are.”

“shower soon,” he says again. “then bed. and tomorrow—”

“i’ll be in class,” you finish for him.

“get a better seat,” he adds. “where i can see you properly.”

you smile into his skin. “yes, professor.”

“brat.”

© splurtz 2026 — all rights reserved.

[thinkingabprice]

varka who, without a doubt, would make his girlfriend a part of his workout routine.

not in the 'stand off to the side and look pretty' way but the 'sit on his back while he does pushups' way.

when he first asked you, you thought he was joking and brushed him off but he was dead serious. he insisted on it. the reasons to you, however, were unknown.

you had no clue of varka's plan. all you were thinking was just that he was bored with training sometimes and after some reluctance, you finally agreed.

varka was ecstatic, of course.

he saw the way your eyes always found themselves staring at his arms when you two were together. he wanted to see how long it would take for you to crack.

he told you to sit on his back which you did, saying how he 'wanted the extra weight' and you nodded in acknowledgment.

you planted your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself as he worked out, rhythmically tapping against him.

the longer it went on, the hotter you felt and you weren't even the one doing the work.

feeling his muscles under your hands already had you heating up and the grunts and groans that he was making wasn't helping either.

you were glad that he couldn't see your face, it would make you feel horrible if he knew that you were enjoying it in a way that you shouldn't.

you press your thighs together and he slows, feeling your movement on him.

"you uncomfortable?" he asks concerned and you make up a lie on the spot.

"my legs are just hurting a bit, is all," you brush him off.

"hmm, well then you don't have to sit on me anymore. my reps were almost done anyways. wanna try something else?"

you say yes and he starts to reposition.

he tells you to lay on the floor and your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"nothing filthy i promise," he says with a laugh.

you trust him completely and lay down and look up at him.

he looks so big from your point of view. you admire his broad shoulders and the scars all over him.

he catches you staring and smirks, slowly lowering himself onto you. his arms cage you in as he plants his hands next to your head.

he lifts himself up to do pushups again, this time with you being beneath him.

"i thought we were doing something different," you mumble.

"this is different."

you fake annoyance and frown and when he brings himself down for the push up, he kisses your lips.

suddenly the position doesn't seem so bad anymore.

every time he lowered himself, he kissed a different part of your face.

he was practically groaning in your ear at this point and you've never felt so flustered.

you find yourself lifting yourself up a bit to meet his lips but he only lets you graze his own before pulling away, a teasing smirk on his face.

"varka," you whine.

he tsks at your complaint and shakes his head.

"supposed to be working out, pretty girl," he says.

when his head is close to yours again, he leans in and you think he's finally going to kiss you again but he moves past your lips and holds himself so that his mouth is next to your ear.

"be good and you'll get another," he whispers in your ear and he bites your lobe softly as he continues his work out.

you narrow your eyes at him.

you couldn't be more frustrated with him.

he kissed you first, how could he be changing his mind now?

it felt like it had been hours, but you knew it had only been a few minutes.

you waited patiently, you were good like he asked you to be.

you were still on the floor and did your best to ignore the way your boyfriend's groans were making you feel.

it was like he was teasing you on purpose.

"are you almost done?" you ask quietly.

"alllmost just," he grunts. "a few," another grunt. "more."

your annoyance with him suddenly has you more aware of everything around you. everything to do with him.

you turn your head slightly and watch as the veins in his arms flex with every movement, his biceps seeming bigger every time he moved.

you could see a sheen of sweat on him. you watched as it dripped down his chest past the patch of hair and you swallowed involuntarily.

you liked the feeling of him being on top of you. you liked how he completely covered you, leaving you to see him and only him.

you could never think about anything else when he was your view.

"hey, hey, eyes up here," varka's voice breaks you from your thoughts.

you feel your cheeks heat up as you realize he caught you staring but you look up to see that he's smirking. he's enjoying this.

"were you doing this on purpose?" you question him.

his steady rhythm falters and your eyes widen in realization.

"you were doing this on purpose!" you almost shout.

he simply laughs at your reaction, clearly amused with the situation.

"took you long enough," he says, finally halting his workout as he remains on top of you.

"could see you getting all worked up you know, surprised you made it this long," he continues.

one hand reaches down to stroke your waist, grabbing you softly.

you watch as his massive hand covers your skin. his hand is rough but his touch is only ever the opposite. he's so delicate, so gentle with you.

"varka..." you begin, you already feel yourself losing your resolve the more he strokes your waist.

"don't worry, pretty girl. i'll make you feel better, i promise," he says roughly and your eyes flutter at the deep sound of his voice.

his hand finds its way back up to your face, stroking your cheek as he leans down to kiss you for real this time.

his lips meet yours softly but he's surprised when he feels the roughness you greet him with.

he groans into your lips, kissing them back feverishly. he bites your bottom lip and wastes no time in swiping his tongue into your mouth.

he presses his body closer to yours and you feel his sweat dampening your clothes but you couldn't care less.

he presses you into the padding on the floor and one hand goes to your leg. he rubs your thigh softly before gripping it tightly and opening your legs, making room for his body to slot itself in between yours.

he grinds himself into you and you moan into his mouth. your legs tighten around his waist as he continues moving his hips against yours.

you could feel his hands all over you, feel the way your clothes caught against the heat growing in between your legs.

he moans into your mouth as your hands wrap themselves around his arms, squeezing tightly around his biceps.

"so needy, aren't you," he says in between kisses and you only nod as you kiss him more.

he chuckles and lightly wraps a hand around your neck, not choking you but just holding you there in place.

you moan at the feeling and the noise only encourages him further and he kisses you harder as he continues grinding against you.

"my needy girl," he breathes out.

his words burn through you and you can barely hold yourself back anymore.

you feel your orgasm building fast and you whine against his lips.

"varka, gonna come-" you say and he hums against you.

"go on then, come for me, baby," he replies as he leans down to kiss all over your neck.

you feel your body tense up and finally come, moaning loudly as varka bites down on your neck.

"thaat's it, give it to me," he groans, taking in the sound of your moans greedily.

his hips continue moving against yours, working you through your orgasm and your hips jerk at the feeling.

once you've finally come down, he pulls himself away from your neck and kisses your lips softly.

"mmm, did so good for me, my good girl," he praises and you revel in his words.

"let's get you cleaned up," he says softly, stroking your cheek lovingly before sitting up, lifting you into his arms easily.

"what about you?" you ask as you look at him, your arms wrapped around his neck as you play with his hair.

"you're still gross and sweaty from working out, you know," you continue.

"wasn't so gross and sweaty when i was on top of you, was i?"

he was insufferable.

[mimuju-deactivated20260521]

── .✦ higuruma eating you out on his desk

not the bed, not the couch. his desk.

the one piled with legal briefs and manila folders, the orange-shaded lamp casting a warm, intimate pool of light over the two of you. it was an impulse, a desperate grab as he walked by, and he hadn’t hesitated. he’d just swept the paperwork to the floor with a calm, decisive swipe of his arm and lifted you onto the polished wood.

and now hiromi higuruma is on his knees before you, his suit jacket long discarded, his tie loosened. his broad shoulders are between your thighs, holding you open with a gentle but unyielding pressure. his mouth is on you, and it is devastating.

every lick is deliberate, his tongue flicks against your clit with the precise focus of cross-examination, then soothes with the broad, flat strokes of a closing argument. he works you over with a quiet, intense dedication that leaves you gasping, fingers scrambling against the cool wood of the desk.

then he pulls back, just slightly.

and he looks up.

oh, god, that look.

his glasses are slightly down his nose. his dark eyes, usually so sharp and analytical, are wide, soft, and utterly drowning in you. they’re pure, liquid puppy-dog devotion, glazed with a hunger that’s entirely at odds with their innocence. a faint blush paints his cheeks. his lips are swollen, glistening with you. he doesn’t say a word. he just... admires. he gazes up at you from between your legs like you’re the entire fucking statute book, like you’re the verdict he’s spent his whole life waiting for.

“h-hiromi…” you whimper, your voice breaking.

at the sound of his name, his expression softens even further, if that’s possible. he nuzzles his cheek against your inner thigh, his breath hot. “you taste so good,” he murmurs, his voice a low, reverent rumble. it’s rough with want, stripped of all professional cadence. “so perfect.”

“please don’t stop…”

“i wasn’t planning on it,” he says, and there’s a hint of a smile in his words, a sweet possessiveness. “i’m not nearly finished.” he leans in again, but pauses, his nose brushing your skin. “tell me what you want, sweet thing. use your words.”

“your mouth,” you beg, hips lifting. “just… y-you, please.”

“good,” he praises softly, and then his tongue is on you again, licking a slow, torturous stripe that has you crying out. he moans against you, the sound vibrating deep. “good girl, that’s it… let me hear you.”

he alternates between deep, languid strokes and quick, fluttering flicks, all while watching your face, studying every twitch and gasp. when you fist your hands in his hair, he groans his approval.

“you’re so beautiful like this,” he breathes between kisses, his words slightly slurred. “falling apart just for me. my sweet girl.”

but then he changes tactics. he presses closer, burying his face deeper. his tongue spears into your entrance, fucking into you with slow, penetrating thrusts that make you see stars. and as he does it—as his tongue delves deep—the bridge of his nose, firm and unyielding, grinds insistently against your swollen clit. it’s an accidental, perfect pressure, a dual stimulation that has you choking on air.

“h-hiromi— oh f-fuck—!”

he understands instantly. he doesn’t pull back. instead, he angles his head deliberately, fucking you with his tongue in a steady rhythm while maintaining that maddening, rubbing pressure of his nose against your most sensitive bud. his breaths are hot puffs against your soaked skin, and he lets out a muffled, desperate sound of his own, drunk on the feel and scent of you.

the combination of his filthy mouth, that relentless nudge of his nose, and his tender, adoring gaze is too much. you shatter with a broken sob, your back arching off the desk, your thighs clamping around his head. he holds you through it, drinking every drop, his low moans of satisfaction vibrating through your core as you pulse against his tongue and nose.

when the last tremor passes, he rests his forehead against your thigh, breathing heavily. he presses a final, soft kiss to your skin before looking up again, those big, earnest eyes meeting yours. his nose and the tops of his cheeks are slick with you. he looks thoroughly wrecked and utterly content.

“okay?” he asks, his voice husky.

all you can do is nod, pulling him up for a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. he smiles into it, a real, unguarded smile, and you know no one else ever gets to see this version of him.

tags - perm - @whorishminds @besidesjustmyamour @throatgoatgeto @go-go-gadget-autism @thecrazyfangirlthings @grignardsreagent @strawberryshortcakkitty @naammiii @liasacountgothacked @annicishana @my-starlights @error-racoon-404 @afreakforyautja @cupidstrace @iam-souless @sindulgent666 @chewiebee @tojisballhair @ex1acy @palanggaaa @yourlocalcatscammer @ehcilhc @gravecyte @restingoasis @satorupi @heliumshorns @laburantesdoll @sxpernova @thethyri @lostgeto @lilytrn @sweethearticism @mikaari0 @chososballhair @nanamissilkytie @iwasabs @tojis-juicymantitys @laitifly @farylfordaryl @bl1ndv3lvet @booboobear-12 @6arcxm @sleeplessdancer @chloeee20

[bluukive-deactivated20260523]

ᯓ everyone's favourite lawyer by me <3

[sprxicle]

Hello fellow Varka lover and enjoyer. I just now discovered your writing and I love it 🫶💗!

☆ I have seen so many rough varka prompts but I just think he can be the sweetest man when it comes to sex...I love him so much. I also don't think he has a type when he falls in love. If your requests are not open please ignore this because sometimes ask box open does not mean requests are too but...What about your first time with Varka and you are a bit insecure about yourself because you are really tall for an AFAB person, and your boobs are on the smaller side (you got a cute butt though). I hope this is not too specific. I hope you are having a great day ❤️ ☆

a/n: oho i love this!! justice for our tall and small chested ladies (me fr).

tags and tw: gentle varka, bf!varka, fluff, first time and clothed sex, boob groping, sucking, literally him enjoying your titties <3, mentions of dry humping (yall dont fw it like i do), modern au, alcohol mentioned

taglist: @illumoonie — dm / ask me to be added into my taglist :3

coming home drunk after hanging out with friends and your boyfriend was like any other saturday night.

you were swaying a lot, giggling more while your boyfriend, varka, was steadily holding you as he guides you into your shared apartment. he wasn’t drunk though, he claimed to have “high alcohol tolerance!” he would say this with that proud grin on his pretty face. but seeing you this carefree puts a smile on his face as you’re usually so packed and tired with work.

“varka~” you cooed cheekily, wrapping your arms around his neck and smothering him with kisses, making the large man chuckle at your overly affectionate self.

his hands traveled down to your backside, giving your ass gentle squeezes before taking your lips with his, kissing you deeply as you can’t help but moan into his mouth. you kicked off your shoes, stumbling more into the apartment without breaking the kiss as your hands rested on his chest, feeling him against you.

his hands rested on your hips now, pulling you closer. his already hardened member throbbing against you just as he pushes his tongue between your lips, making you groan softly.

“v-varka..” you whined when his lips went down to your jaw and neck, feeling his teeth nibbling at the soft of your skin. he pushed you back down onto the couch, hovering above you while he kept going — hands already hoisting up your shirt to feel more of you. “wait, varka—“ you said, suddenly feeling shy of yourself when his fingers tugged at the edge of your laced bra. he stopped, looking up at you with worry. “yes, love? am i going too fast?” he sits up and pulls down your shirt but his hands stayed on your hips. his thumbs gently caressing your curves, reassuring you that he’ll stop if you tell him to.

“no, you were doing great. it’s just.. um..” you fell silent, eyes gazing away from his now confused face. varka moved a hand to your cheek, caressing it gently. “you can tell me, love. i’ll stop if you want—“ “no, i don’t want you to stop.” you said firmly. your cheeks were hot and red, from embarrassment and probably from the alcohol in your system too. “we’ve never really.. you know..” you mumbled, hoping he would get the hint. varka furrowed his eyebrows in confusion before it hit him. “oh. y-yeah we’ve never..” he rubbed the back of his neck, sighing softly.

you both have never really seen each other naked, like entirely naked despite already living together. both of you would usually stop at making out, never really going beyond that. you noticed him shifting uncomfortably, raising an eyebrow. “uh haha, i can take care of it,” varka said as he began to stand up from the couch. you instantly grabbed his wrist.

“let’s do it.”

varka’s eyes went wide before sitting back down beside you. he takes your hands in his, holding it tightly. “you sure? i mean, you don’t have to force yourself just because i’m all hard right now.” you answered him with a firm nod before kissing him again, letting him know that you really do want this, that you want him to be your first.

varka instantly hummed into your mouth, pushing you to lie flat on your back again while he slotted himself between your legs. his hands goes back to your shirt, pulling it over your head. those blue eyes of his landed on your bra-cladded breasts, you could’ve sworn you saw him drooling a bit. “i-it’s not much..” you muttered bashfully, averting your gaze. your breasts weren’t as big as most women would have but you’re not flat chested as well. ‘models’ breasts’ your friends would call it.

varka shook his head, fingers tugging at the bra straps. “i think they’re perfect. tall or short, big or small boobs, you’re still perfect to me.” you only nod, still feeling a bit insecure as he finally tugs down the bra, your nipples already hardened and peaked just for him.

he tested the waters first — hand gently cupping your right breast to see if you still want to continue. his palm was warm, making you whimper softly. next step, he pinched at your nipple, now this made you whine, eyes fluttering shut as a gasp leave your lips. varka only chuckled as he did the same for the left breast, fingers pinching at your nipples.

“AHN!” you cried out, as you turned your head to the side. already a few minutes in and you felt like you were going to combust any time soon. “you like this?” he asked playfully, pushing your nipples into your skin, making you shudder. “v-varka! hnn~” “look at you.. enjoying this,” he grinned to himself, noting down that you like having your breasts played. (i mean.. who wouldn’t?)

he leaned down to your right boob, taking your nipple between his lips, sucking on it gently with his teeth as you cried out again. “f-fuck, oh fuck, varka.. that’s good, so good..” you have your arm over your face, chest rising up and down wildly. your left boob wasn’t ignored, he was still pinching and rolling your swollen bud around his fingers, resulting another moan from you.

“more, yes, please keep going,” you encourage him and he, of course, delivered. varka was already aching hard now, hearing your moans and cries as he pulled away, panting softly. you whimpered when his mouth was no longer on you, pouting slightly at him. he sits up, making sure you can get a full view of him as he pulled off his shirt, revealing his toned muscles and abs from all those workouts at the gym. he smirked, seeing how you were eagerly looking at his body.

“like what you see, princess?” his hand palmed himself while you gulped from nervousness and excitement. “come here, baby,” he leaned over you again, taking your lips in a hungry and desperate kiss. the kiss was heated and full of want. your fingers in his hair, tugging at his blonde strands, tongue tangling with his as you felt him grind against you. “varka~” you moaned when his lips travelled down to your neck, feeling him sucked at the skin there. he only groaned, biting and nibbling at your soft skin. “you smell so good, baby,” he kissed your ear before moving down back to your god sent breasts. you whined, feeling his lips on your right, and his left hand groping at your left boob.

“varka.. please, it’s too good..” you whined, toes curling when you felt his tongue swirling over your hardened nipple. “so so pretty,” he cooed, fingers pinching at both of your swollen peaks. “what else can you show me, princess?” varka looked up at you, fingers still toying with your breasts. your head was empty at this point, too drunk on the feeling of his fingers. “varka.. varka, i don’t, h-hn~ i don’t feel good..” he grinned at this, realising that you were about to come.

“yeah? my pretty girl wants to come?” he kissed you deeply again, fingers still playing with your breasts as he pressed his hardened member against your clothed cunt. he groaned, grinding slowly against you. “gonna come just from me playing with your beautiful tits, huh baby?” he smirked, fully grinding against you now.

no words from you, only moans and whimpers. your panties were soaked at this point, your hips following his actions from inexperience. “mhn~ varka.. varka, please,” you mewled. varka nodded, hands still not leaving your beautiful titties as he shamefully grind, the precum already leaking through his boxers. “you close, princess? gonna come for me?” he panted, watching you shudder under him. watching you released your first ever orgasm had him bust his own load as well, as he toppled onto you, kissing you everywhere on your face gently.

“such a good girl for me,” he smiled against you while you shyly smiled as well. “i love you,” you said, giving him a kiss on his forehead. varka gave you his famous boyish grin, the one that made your heart throb. “i love you too. my sweet baby.”

a/n: AAAAASJSSKSHHS IM SORRY IF THIS WAS BAD i haven't written smth like this in a while so i'm still warming up,, but i hope you enjoyed this my sweet anon!! tysm for requesting hehe <33

[rouriinee]

more Enjin fanart

[sprxicle]

ALSO OFF TOPIC BUT I WON SPARXIE AND HER LC WITH YAO GUANG ALL WITHIN 40 TICKETS AND 20k JADES YAYAYAYAY I LOVE ELATION

i couldve gotten c1 sparxie it if werent for seele tho sigh but hey im guaranteed! ^^

[sprxicle]

i think i really should start writing that anon’s request gulp first ask of 2026 kinda nervous

[aquasprings]

higuruma x coworker!reader

where one late night at the office turns into a very hands-on case study with higuruma ..!

warnings : 18+ ! explicit sexual content, oral (fem receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, hair pulling, creampie, fingering, praise, lowk desperate higuruma, but also dom higuruma energy, multiple orgasms (i can't lie i just need him. i mean look at that panel.)

the office is quiet, except for the sound of your papers rustling, higuruma’s pen tapping his page, and the clock ticking.

it’s well past midnight now — the two of you had been tackling an overwhelmingly complex case the past few weeks, and the late night had bled into the next day without either of you really noticing.

your shoulders ache as you lean back, eyes flicking to the man at his desk. higuruma’s still hunched over his files, tie slightly loosened, and there’s a faint crease between his brows, deeper than usual.

he looks tired.

your chair scrapes softly when you stand.

“higuruma,” you say gently.

his pen stills.

dark eyes lift to meet you, sharp even through the fatigue. “yes?”

you hesitate, then soften your voice. “you look exhausted.”

“i’m fine,” he replies automatically, though something in his expression flickers.

you fold your arms. the man is very much not fine.

“you’ve been here since before eight in the morning,” you point out. “the case will still be here tomorrow. i think you should go home.”

"i could say the same to you," he says after a beat.

you smile faintly, shrugging. "i will after i finish this section."

another pause.

the clock ticks again.

higuruma studies your figure, your profile, the way your hair catches the dim office light, for a moment longer than professional.

"...i'll drive you home."

you blink up at him. "you don't—"

"it's past midnight," he says simply, reaching for his jacket. "i won't have you taking the train alone."

your pulse jumps traitorously in your chest.

"you don't have to," you say, willing your voice to remain casual.

"i know."

he stands anyway, and that's how, twenty minutes later, you find yourself in the passenger seat of his car, city lights blurring through the windshield.

you glance at him, his expression calm as he stares ahead to the road. "thanks for driving me home, higuruma. you really didn't have to."

"it's hiromi," he corrects, eyes remaining ahead. "we've worked together long enough for you to drop the formalities, especially when it's just the two of us."

your heart does that stupid thing again. "okay. thanks, hiromi." you say it softly, almost as if you're testing out the feel of his name.

he pulls up outside your apartment building, putting the car in park and turning off the engine. "i'll walk you up," he says before he can overthink it.

"you don't have to," you answer, grabbing your bag. "really."

"it's alright," he says, already stepping out of the car. he doesn't give you a chance to argue further, falling into step beside you as you walk towards your building entrance. the night air is cool against your skin, but the proximity to him made your body feel all kinds of warm.

when you get to your elevator, you stand side by side. close enough that you can smell his cologne, though it's faint — a woodsy scent that makes you weak in the knees. you force your gaze upwards, watching the numbers light up above the door, and acutely aware of every inch separating your bodies.

the elevator finally dings, signaling your floor. you step out first, leading the way down the hallway, and higuruma follows you, his steps quiet on the carpeted floor.

the air feels tighter than it should. by the time you get to your door, your heart is racing again.

you turn to him. he's already looking at you.

his gaze is steady on your face. assessing.

there's a moment — thin, fragile — and you tighten your fingers around your keys.

before you have the chance to process it : "do you wanna come in?"

and, at the exact same moment, low and measured - "do you think i could come in?"

you both freeze.

a beat passes, and then two, and you swing your door open, stepping aside to let him pass through.

now, you're not sure whether to blame the case you're assigned, or the fact that it's almost one in the morning, or the fact that you've had a stupid crush on your stupidly attractive coworker for the longest time, for how you've ended up in the position you're in now.

your back's pressed against your couch cushions, blouse unbuttoned, skirt hiked up around your waist.

and, of course, higuruma's face between your legs.

he groans against you, the sound vibrating through your pussy, and your hand flies to his dark mess of hair on instinct.

"you taste so good," he mumbles before sucking your clit into his mouth.

your back arches off the couch, lips parted in a silent moan as you tug at his hair. he grips your thighs, spreading them wider as he eats you out like a man starved.

"look how you're dripping for me," he says, pushing two fingers inside you, curling them to hit that spot that makes you gasp. he pulls back just long enough to lick his fingers clean before diving back in, his tongue circling your clit and pushing into you, his nose rubbing into you just right.

"oh my god, hiromi, shit—" your eyes roll back, pleasure coursing hot through your core, and your grip tightens in his hair.

his tongue slides inside you slowly again, fucking you with it while his thumb works against your clit, building pressure relentlessly. "that's it," he whispers, "come for me. wanna taste you."

your body tightens, hips bucking as you cry out, head dropping back as your orgasm hits you. he moans into you, sucking you harder as he works you through your release, lapping up every drop of you.

when you finally collapse against the couch, trembling, he crawls back up your body, his face flushed, chin covered in your slick, kissing gently at your neck. "beautiful," he mutters against your skin. "so pretty when you come."

his cock is hard against your thigh, straining through the material of his slacks. his eyes are lidded, desperate as they look up at you.

"need to be inside you," he says, voice strained. "can i? please?"

your hands fumble with his belt immediately, and he helps you undo his pants, shoving them down along with his boxers. both of your hands are shaky, and you're panting, the heat of desire between you about to snap.

his cock hits his stomach and when you reach out to hold it he lets out a strangled curse, his stomach tensing. when you give him a slow, careful pump, his head drops forward to the crook of your shoulders, exhaling a sound caught between a whimper and a groan.

"fuck, you're gonna make me come before i even get inside you," he gasps against your neck, hips bucking up into your fist. his cock is thick and heavy in your hand, precome glistening at the tip.

you position the head of his cock at your entrance, and higuruma lets out a shuddering breath as you slowly push him inside inch by inch. you bring his lips to yours and kiss him deeply, both of you moaning into each other's mouths.

the stretch is delicious. he's thick and long, and he lets out a low groan when you take him all the way inside. "jesus fuck.."

your eyes flutter shut, hands burying in his shoulders. "hiromi—"

"sorry, baby, just—give me a second," he whispers tightly, his hands gripping your hips hard. he's so deep inside you, he swears he can feel every inch of you pulsing around him.

you rock your hips experimentally and he lets out a broken groan, his head tipping back. "fuck—"

his hips start bucking into yours, setting a slow, deep rhythm, large hands holding you close as he thrusts up. you whine, legs wrapping around him as he fucks you into the couch.

his brows are pinched together, mouth hanging open as he watches your blissed out expression.

"more, please, a—ahh—" you plead, and he pushes in deeper, hitting something inside you that makes your eyes roll back.

"there?" he asks breathlessly, voice thick with want, and he angles his hips differently, drilling into that spot over and over. your walls clamp around him tightly each time. higuruma swears the soft, pleading sounds falling from your lips are the prettiest noises he's ever heard.

his pace increases, each thrust making the couch creak beneath you, and he rests his forehead against yours, breathing labored. "so good," he says, voice strained. "so fucking perfect—"

he starts to fuck you harder, his hips snapping forward with each thrust. the sound of skin against skin fills the room, along with your moans and his grunts. his hand comes up to grip your hair tightly, pulling your head back to expose your neck. he leans down, sucking at your collarbone, his other hand clinging desperately at your hip.

"inside—come inside," you breathe, feeling that familiar coil build up in your stomach again.

his rhythm breaks at your words, hips stuttering. “fuck—“

“i want it,” you interrupt, legs tightening around him. “please.”

that’s all the permission he needs. his grip on you turns almost painful as he fucks into you with abandon, chasing his release. “gonna—oh, god, gonna fill you up—”

he slams into you one final time, burying himself to the hilt, and comes with a loud, shuddering groan, ropes of come painting your insides. his body shakes with the force of his orgasm and he collapses forward, pinning you to the couch.

with a cry, your body goes limp as you clench around him, heat rushing to your core, and higuruma lets out a broken noise, his head falling to the crook of your neck.

“shit,” he groans, pounding you through your climax. as you come down from your high, you look at the mess between your legs — his come leaking out of you, the slick along your thighs.

he pulls out slowly, watching his release leak out of you. you swallow hard — his eyes are blown wide again, brows knitted in concentration as he spreads your legs wider, gently pushing two fingers inside you, scooping the come back in.

you sigh contently, running a hand through his hair as he settles the weight of his body against yours, pressing you into the couch.

you rake your fingers along the base of his neck, watching him as his eyes flutter shut. he kisses up your jawline, and softly when he gets to your lips.

you move your lips to the junction of his neck, smile against his skin. “how open are you to office sex?”

he tenses above you, and his hands squeeze at your waist, sliding up.

“open to consideration.”

you huff a soft laugh against his neck. “consideration? that sounds very noncommittal.”

higuruma signs, hands sliding higher along your waist, thumbs brushing over the edge of your blouse where it’s fallen open.

“professional hazard,” he murmurs. “i prefer to review the facts first.”

you pull back just enough to glance up at him. “and what are the facts so far?”

his gaze drops, slow and deliberate, as his eyes drag up your face. “you,” he says carefully, “are presenting a very compelling argument.”

your smile deepens. “flattery noted for the record.”

his mouth twitches. “objection. that was an objective observation.”

you lean again, lips ghosting the shell of his ear. “then what’s the verdict, hiromi?”

for a moment, he doesn’t answer, fingers flexing once at your waist. then, very quietly : “…pending further review.”

but the way he pulls you closer tells you the court is already very, very biased.

a/n ~ hiii lovelies <3 gosh higuruma has been on my MIND since the new ep i can’t get him out of my head. i hope you enjoyed :))

[kominigiru]

ODE OF THE NORTH WIND

An ode is a declaration—a promise set to the rhythm of something greater than yourself. Varka kneels before you in the house of the Anemo Archon, and makes his.

⟢ features: varka x f!reader, non-canon au, knight!varka, priestess!reader, fluff

⟢ word count: 1,185

⟢ note: the title is loosely inspired by shelley’s ode to the west wind. i swapped west for north because varka is the knight of boreas and boreas is the wolf of the north, one of mondstadt’s four winds. thus varka is the north wind’s knight, and this is his ode.

⟢ also on: ao3

The bells of Mondstadt’s cathedral ring softly in the afternoon breeze.

Sunlight filters through stained glass windows in hues of teal and gold, painting the marble floors in fractured light. You stand at the altar, hands clasped in prayer, whispering the final lines of your devotion.

You have always been one among many—one priestess in white among the daughters of the wind. No prophecy marks your birth. No noble blood runs in your veins. No ballads sing your name. You are—just as any other citizen of Mondstadt—simply faithful.

The cathedral doors open. The sound echoes through the chamber.

You don’t need to turn around to know who it is. Only one man in Mondstadt walks with that kind of presence. Only one man carries the weight of prophecy like armor upon his shoulders.

The prophesied hero.

The Grand Knight.

Varka.

His boots halt a few paces behind you. The cathedral doors have long since closed, yet a current of wind brushes against your skin, as though even Barbatos himself leans in to listen.

You turn, and there he stands—tall, broad, and clad in white and steel, the sigil of Mondstadt gleaming against his chest. His hair catches the light like spun gold, and his eyes do not rest on the altar behind you.

They rest on you.

“Priestess,” he greets, voice deep.

You bow politely. “Grand Knight Varka, how may the church assist you?”

Then—without preamble, without ceremony, without hesitation—he says, “Will you give me your hand in marriage?”

Silence swallows the cathedral whole. You blink.

“…I beg your pardon?”

His expression does not change. If anything, it softens.

“I wish to marry you.”

Your heart slams against your ribs.

How absurd!

You are no noblewoman. No high oracle chosen by the Archon. You are not even the head priest. You are one of many—one voice among the choir, one servant among the faithful.

So why—

“Sir Varka,” you say carefully, “I believe you are mistaken. I am merely a priestess of Mondstadt. There are far worthier women—”

“I do not want worthier,” he interrupts gently. He steps closer, gauntleted hand removing his glove before kneeling before you, as though offering not just words, but the entirety of himself. “I want you.”

You take a small step back, heart pounding. “Why me?”

“I have seen you visit the wounded every evening,” he says. “You remember the names of every knight who kneels in prayer before battle. When the winds grow restless, you calm them with song. When I returned from the northern front, bloodied and half-delirious, you were the one who stayed.”

You remember. He was barely conscious then—you didn’t expect him to recall your face.

“I fell for you before the prophecy even named me its hero,” he confesses. “I fell for your kindness. For your steadiness. For the way you look at the wind as though it speaks back.”

How cruel, you think. To offer something so beautiful and so unattainable.

“…I have sworn myself to the Anemo Archon,” you whisper. “My life belongs to the church. The law forbids priests and priestesses from taking spouses.”

You made that vow without hesitation. Without regret.

Or so you believe.

Varka’s gaze does not waver. “I know.”

You open your mouth to retort, but he beats you to it first.

“There is a clause,” he continues, voice lowering as though he is speaking secrets within sacred halls. “A decree written during the old reign. Should the kingdom face annihilation and be delivered by the hand of a champion… the crown is bound to grant that champion a single wish.”

You stare at him.

The prophecy. The Abyss. His expedition.

Is he—

“When I return… when the Abyss is driven back and Mondstadt stands safe beneath the wind once more… the king will offer me anything.” His bare hand reaches forward. “And I will ask for you.”

Your heart trembles.

“Varka…” His name leaves your lips before you can stop it.

You have no right to want this. You shouldn’t. He’s meant to be a hero, a legend, someone whose story will be sung for generations. And you… you’re just a priestess. One of many—one who prays too much, worries too much, cares too much.

How could someone like him possibly—?

And yet… your chest feels impossibly full; hope bubbles in spite of reason.

Maybe it’s not wrong to hope. Maybe the wind itself carried him here for a reason. Maybe… maybe you are meant to matter to him. Maybe this is your fate just as much as it is his, intertwined with his journey to face the Abyss. Maybe the same currents that guide him towards that destiny guide you towards this moment, and for once, the impossible feels like it could be real—

But even with all that hope, the gnawing feeling that you are no one special still claws at your chest, whispering that you are far too unworthy and ordinary for someone like him.

“I am not special,” you whisper, voice trembling. “I am not chosen. I am not—”

“You are,” he says with a conviction that shakes you more than any raised voice could. “You are the one I choose.”

The certainty in his voice stirs something inside you. The impossible feels possible, and your heart both screams caution and hums with a desperate hope.

“If I fall,” he adds softly, “then nothing changes. You remain devoted, untouched by scandal and untouched by broken vows.”

And if he lives—

The future unfurls before you like wind through open skies.

A hero returned victorious.

A kingdom saved.

A wish granted.

And perhaps… a law rewritten by destiny itself.

Your fingers tremble as you slowly place your hand into his.

Just for a moment—just enough to feel the warmth of his skin against yours.

“I cannot promise you,” you say. “Not now.”

“Then pray for me,” he murmurs. His thumb brushes your knuckles, reverent and worshipful. “Pray that I return. And when I do… allow me to ask you again.”

You feel the wind swirl through the cathedral again, brushing against yout cheeks, teasing your hair, and rustling the hems of your robes. It is familiar—like the first gentle gust that greeted you when he entered—but now feels heavier and deeper, as though carrying a presence you cannot see.

It is gentle, as if testing your resolve. Approving, as if nudging the tension from your shoulders with the softest touch. Or perhaps it is teasing, curling around you and him, whispering promises you cannot yet fully understand.

You withdraw your hand before you can crumble entirely.

“I will pray,” you promise.

Varka smiles, small and hopeful. “For victory?” he asks.

You shake your head. “For your safe return.”

And as he turns to leave, cloak billowing behind him like a promise of a coming storm, you press your hand to your racing heart and wonder if perhaps the wind has always intended for your path to cross his. After all—

Even the gentlest breeze can alter the course of a hero.

© 2026 kominigiru.

end note: i haven’t written anything for genshin since 2024 so even i am surprised that i managed such a feat. originally, this was supposed to be for phainon but i thought varka would fit the idea more because he’s—you know—a knight and i’ve written enough for phainon already so i decided to give this to our beloved grandmaster instead :3 hopefully you guys enjoyed this… 🥺👉👈