𝙻𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚜𝚗𝚊𝚌𝚔
Higuruma x Nurse!reader
ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑠 𝑢 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘.
𝑇𝑎𝑔𝑠: 𝑁𝑖𝑝𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦, ℎ𝑖𝑔𝑢𝑟𝑢𝑚𝑎 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑚𝑢𝑛𝑐ℎ, 𝑔𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑠𝑒, 𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑓 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑, 𝑣𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑡, 𝑐𝑎𝑟 𝑐𝑟𝑎𝑠ℎ, 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑟 𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑝𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑠, 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑢𝑡 ℎ𝑖𝑔𝑢𝑟𝑢𝑚𝑎, 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑦 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟, 𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑢𝑒 𝑓𝑢𝑐𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑢𝑡, 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑠𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑢𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛, ℎ𝑖𝑔𝑢𝑟𝑢𝑚𝑎 𝑔𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑖𝑚𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑜𝑓𝑓 𝑢𝑟 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒, ℎ𝑖𝑔𝑢𝑟𝑢𝑚𝑎 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑏𝑖𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑎 𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒. (𝐿𝑚𝑘 𝑖𝑓 𝐼 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔)
The smell of the nightly breeze feels good after hours of smelling sterile rooms, latex gloves, and stale coffee from the hospital’s break room. It’s almost 1 in the morning. The streets are mostly quiet, and everywhere is closed, including all the fast-food places in your area (how unlucky). It’s not that he would like you eating junk food at these ungodly hours, anyway.
“You’re a nurse. You should know food like that at late hours isn’t good for your health,” he’d judge, but his words are hypocritical for how much he cares about his work over his own well-being. He’s always stuck in his home office, or at his second home, his actual working office. He never once took a break, it seems, but neither did you.
Balancing two of the most demanding jobs in the world is never easy; neither of you ever has time for anything else but work or catching up on sleep. It is a miracle you two are still together; you suppose, as a married couple, you keep the promise to stay for better or for worse.
The autumn leaves crunch as you cross the street to get into your car, an old Honda Civic that has been with you since med school days. The breeze was picking up, scattering the colored leaves around your feet. You tugged your jacket closer around you as your mind drifted to the man back home. You already know he’s up as you drive under the starry night, because why wouldn’t he be? It is always the same routine with you two, the same moments, the same expectations of what is waiting at the door.
Wake up at 6 am, limbs tangled and bones sore from constantly walking from trips around the hospital, or back aching from hunching over legal documents in a dimly lit room, in his case. You both get up quietly, murmur a good morning, and exchange a few kisses stolen before parting ways.
As much as you’d like to be there for him, your own responsibilities as a nurse in the city’s busiest hospital. Your stress is eating you up, too, with how many hours of sleep you get, plus the added emotional distress each grueling day offers.
For example, today a patient vomited blood, and it got on your shoe, or you had to assist someone with a mangled arm after a gruesome car crash. Healthcare isn’t easy, and the pay isn’t worth it, either, but like Hiromi, you don’t do it for the money; you do it for the satisfaction of saving a life.
The whole workday would engulf both until you lost track of time and realized you hadn't taken a break. You'd message him now and then, asking how he was doing or if he needed anything. 9 times out of ten, there is no response- you don’t blame him, especially since he is taking on a serious court case as of late. You also know that the stress of it is causing him to pull all-nighters and make his mood irritable.
It has been a while, too- a while from that. Sex.
As any normal couple, you guys do intimacy, or at least try to. Really tried to. It's not like you guys didn’t enjoy it, or don’t find each other exciting- it's more that you don't have the time to squeeze it in anymore.
Coming home late, burnt out, and dragging yourself through the house is already taxing enough- adding cardio to that would send both of you into cardiac arrest. You miss it so much, though, his warm hands caressing your waist as his face was glued to your soaked cunt, that perfectly long nose of his nudging against your clit, and just letting him have his way with you sounds so perfect after a stressful day.
The need for an outlet to take everything out is too much. Maybe, just maybe, you can pursue him- seduce him just this once…because scrubs were the sexiest thing when trying to tempt your stressed-out husband, right? He’s probably too lucid to tell what you’re wearing.
The engine hum buzzes in your brain. It was soothing, almost too soothing. You’re practically falling asleep on the way home, and you’re thinking about getting some action? You barely have the energy to hit the brakes. The hope you have faded away as fast as it came.
—
The house lights are off by the time you pull up to the driveway. All rooms are dark except for that small window in the upstairs right wing. Ahah! So he is still awake. Your keys jingle as you unlock the front door. The house is comfortable enough for two people to live in or more; three bedrooms, an upstairs, and a downstairs bathroom, a grand kitchen, and a cozy living room. The spare room is used for guests, but maybe one day it’ll be a nursery. That is just a distant dream as of now; you two are busy enough as is.
The living room is quiet as expected, with the only evidence of him ever stepping into the room being his keys on the coffee table and his coat hanging by the door. You make your way upstairs and into your bedroom, changing into something more comfortable, an old dress shirt of his.
The fabric is old and wrinkly with a faded brown stain on the bottom from a little coffee spill. He was going to throw it away, but you claimed ownership before he had a chance. It became a frequently used PJ. To go along with that, you wore some simple black panties underneath.
As much as you’d like to go in there with the scrubs, you’d been around some nasty patients all day, and getting him sick is your top concern. You head for his office after, footsteps quiet as a mouse so as not to break the calm silence of the night.
You peek through the crack of his slightly opened door to be blessed by his tired, somehow breathtaking appearance. Dress shirt unbuttoned, tie loosened, hair messy from running his fingers through it when in deep thought, eyes tired but sharp, having seen countless fates in courts. He has that quiet intelligence you know so well. The warm light of the lamp sitting on his work table cast a soft shadow across his face. You knock three times before poking your head through.
“What’re you still doing up, ‘Romi? When’d you get home?” you ask, voice warm and low.
His fatigue seems to fade as he perks up at the sound of your voice. He puts the documents down and welcomes you with a wave of his hand.
“Going over a case, that’s all. I got home about an hour ago…” his words trail off as he watches you come in. His eyes immediately find your legs as you saunter towards him.
“Is it the same case you can’t tell me about that’s been making you lose sleep over the past month?” It's no secret how hardworking he is, with how he prioritizes his clients over his own well-being, but it gets to a point where you seriously worry about him. It makes him depressed, though he tries to hide it. The justice system is corrupt; everyone knows that- he knows it better than anyone. The stress is eating away at him slowly, and if he doesn't do anything about it, you fear what it might do to his sanity.
“Yes, the same one. It’s a shame I can’t spill any information about it to you; I can really use someone to talk to about it.” His tired eyes watch as you move to lean on his desk. That old familiar dress shirt of his isn’t buttoned up all the way- presenting a pretty view of the swell of your breasts.
“Sucks, huh? Remember that if there’s anything you need, I am here for you, got it?” You feel his eyes linger on your body, his usual eye contact lacking. It makes you shiver; that hungry gaze in his eyes is one you long to see, but it’s so late now, your feet ache, and you’re so hungry. It’s not the right time.
“I haven’t eaten in so long,” you admit with a tired laugh. “I’m starving. Have you eaten anything? I’ll make us some quick cups of ramen so we don’t go to bed on an empty stomach.” Just before you can turn to leave, his hand launches to grasp your wrist. You whip your head to look down at him, his downward eyes staring at you like a predator catching its prey.
“I am hungry,” he murmurs, his voice a little huskier than usual, “but not for food.” he tugs you down onto his lap, hands sliding under your dress shirt to hold your waist still. Your breath hitches as his long, slender fingers trace small circles right under your breasts. The look in his eye is full of frustration and yearning.
“Hiromi…don’t tell me you want to, right now?” Your protests are silenced as his lips press against yours in a slow, passionate kiss. It has been so long since you felt that coiling heat in your stomach begging to be taken care of.
“If you truly want to help me, let me do this.” He’s practically begging, that needy look in his eye telling you everything you need to know.
You bite your lip, mulling over whether this is the right idea to do
“I want to help. I do.” You tug his tie to bring him closer, to continue the feverish kiss, eyes half-lidded from exhaustion and lust. Your hands trail up from resting on his biceps up to his neck with a feather-light touch. He groans against your mouth as you shift to straddle his lap, making the kiss even deeper than before.
His hands move to cup your breasts, circling your hardened nipples under the fabric of the shirt. You arch at the feeling, moaning softly into his mouth. He tugs them firmly, alternating between rolling and pinching. His mouth attaches to your neck next, leaving small bites and gentle kisses to soothe the aches.
He smelled good, like printed papers and old coffee. So different from the smell of death and Lysol you endure. It was comforting- knowing you had someone at home to lean on and find solace in.
“Missed this, missed seeing you on my lap after a long day of work,” he confesses. His hands move down to the waistband of your panties. “Take these off for me. Leave the shirt.”
You get off his lap and shimmy the panties down your legs; you already know what is coming by the way he's been eyeing your legs. His hands find your hips, pushing you backwards until you hit the work desk behind you. You sit down on it, spreading your legs open for him.
It has been too long since he’s had a taste; he hasn't had the time to say hello to her anymore. He brings himself closer to your pussy, taking his time by leaving open-mouth kisses on your inner thighs.
He holds your legs open by the bottom of your thighs; he can already feel them quivering in anticipation, but he wasn’t one to give in too easily. He wants to savor the moment, savor the tension, and your whiny heaves from above.
“It’s been so long since I’ve seen her. I feel bad for neglecting her. I know she’s missed me so much.” He murmurs. His tongue licks up your slick folds slowly. His tongue is flat like a pancake, and his head moves up and down steadily; his slacks feel tighter with each needy buck of your hips.
“Romi, don't tease,” you pleaded, a free hand coming down to rake through his already unkempt hair. It feels so good, too good, that you think you might cum from just a few licks. Pleasure overcomes any trace of drowsiness and want. Your hips jolt at each stroke of his tongue, breathy mewls leaving your lips at the torturous pace he’s keeping.
“Tell me what you want. All you have to do is use that pretty mouth of yours.” His lips left your cunt to go back to kissing everywhere but your throbbing clit.
“You know where.” You whine, too shy to admit what you really want. It’s been so long that you feel nervous, like it’s your first time with him again.
“Do I? I don’t have the slightest clue.” His eyes are glinting with mischief; he wants to hear it out loud from you, because where would the fun be if he just let you have what you want?
You whine at his tease; he knows just how to mess with you. Shyly, you look away from him, whining softly as you’re forced to say it out loud. “I want you to lick here.” Your fingers trail down to point out your bud. “on my clit. I need you to touch me there.”
He doesn’t waste anymore time. He dives into your cunt again, suckling and swirling right on your sensitive bud.
Two fingers sneak inside you, curling firmly against your spongy walls. He relishes your mewls, the desperate bucks of your hips as he assaults your clit with precision. His nose bridge was pressing right against your bud now, creating a firm, stimulating press that you could grind on as he trails downward to your entrance.
You throw your head back in gasps, and your hand holds the back of his head as you grind against his face.
“Feels so good…don’t stop.. please.”
His tongue joins his digits, slithering its way inside and fucking you relentlessly. His face, by now, is glistening with your slickness as you grind nonstop on the bridge of his hooked nose.
He groans right on your clit, making your legs tense and your ankles lock around his head. You’re close, he can feel it. He doesn’t let up either; he continues devouring you like he needed it as badly as he needed oxygen.
“Tastes divine…” he takes a deep breath of your scent, practically drunk off it from how desperately he’s moving his tongue up and down your heat. His fingers haven't stopped either; they’re pumping in and out of you, angling just right to keep you thrashing.
Your first orgasm hits you like a brick- legs tensing, then shaking violently as his fingers fuck you through it. It comes in waves until it suddenly feels like it’s too much, too much so that you try to shift away from his face.
He lets up for a moment, just staring up at you as if you were an angel. His face was dripping with a mix of sweat and saliva. He licks his lips slowly, taking a moment to savor the leftover juices.
“So pretty…you think you can handle one more for me?”
You nod your head vaguely, letting him pull you down closer to his mouth. He returns down below, slurping every drop he can from your drooling pussy.
You overestimated your ability to handle more stimulation. The feeling of his tongue and fingers on you is overwhelming, so much so that your legs threaten to close around him, essentially suffocating him (not that he would mind). Your body involuntarily moves away from the feeling, but he catches on quickly, and his hands pin your hips down to the desk.
“No running away now, you wanted this,” He growls, going back to flicking your tired clit with the tip of his tongue. Your moans are high-pitched and whiny. His slacks have a stain on them from his pre-cum from just how turned on he’s getting by making you feel good. He grabs your nearby discarded panties and unzips himself from his slacks.
Using your panties, he strokes himself slowly, alleviating the ache, all the while his tongue fucking you without missing a beat. The soaked fabric felt good around his throbbing cock. The cotton texture rubbing against his veins so deliciously that he can’t help but buck his hips to chase the feeling.
You don’t even notice he does this, too busy gripping his head and tensing around him as your second orgasm approaches.
“Fuck it’s too much! M’cumming again.” You mewl, thighs shaking from ecstasy.
“Good girl.” He groans, stroking his cock a little quicker. He was close, too close.
“Make a mess on my face, c'mon." He’s approaching his own high, stroking himself faster, harder, the height of it all making him lose himself in your pleasure.
“Cumming!” You gasp as it hits you again, your legs locking him in place. He moans softly, climaxing in his hands and staining your panties.
Everything is still, and white dots blur your vision as you try to make sense of everything around. His deep voice snaps you out of your daze.
“Shit…that was perfect. You are perfect.” He praises, giving your cunt one last kiss before lifting his head to look at your disheveled state.
You lift your head after taking a few moments to recollect yourself before you speak, chest heaving rapidly, and face flushed a light pink.
“Are you still hungry?” You manage. Your voice is small and breathless. Your head lolls to the side as he moves from your legs.
He lets out a chuckle; the sound is warm and low. Wiping his chin with the back of his hand, he stands up from the chair and moves to hover above you on the table.
He braces his hands beside your head, successfully trapping you with no escape. “Not anymore, but I want one more thing…”
You know you should protest, to stop before things spiral and you’re stuck on his desk all night long. It’s late, you’ve got a morning shift, he’s got work in the morning too…but you just don’t seem to care.
The world doesn’t matter right now. It’s just him and you, in his office, away from the real world, if only temporarily.
