₊⟡ "honestly, your age is showing"
prof!higuruma x reader | college au | age gap | smut | oneshot | you love grocery shopping with higuruma, especially when he's threatening to fuck you in the wine aisle | 3k words
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“You don’t like apples?”
Higuruma’s voice is laced with some sort of bogus offense as he slowly sets down the bag of fruit back into the aisle. He shakes his head, pushing the trolley on and looking on to the other selections of fruit you might like. Amongst the hum of the refrigerators and the light Muzak playing overhead, you can just about hear him mumbling under his breath about young people and their unhealthy eating habits.
You haven’t been dating Higuruma for very long – even though the sexual tension between the two of you has been simmering beneath every interaction ever since you joined his criminal law intro class in freshman year. In the one year that the two of you have been officially together though, you have discovered that Higuruma is highly domestic – in the sense that he likes doing “normal coupley things” with you, even if he does have to drive the two of you out to another part of town for fear that someone from your university will see, he’ll always go grocery shopping with you.
You know of the type of money he makes and the lack of time he has, so he could just get his housekeeper to buy all of the groceries realistically, but he seems to like doing everything (but laundry) himself. Plus, you do really enjoy playing house with him.
Oftentimes, you are just surprised he is so responsible for himself. But then again, you have to remind yourself, he is… just shy of forty. You peer at the streaks of grey in his black hair and smile to yourself before turning away from him. He seems awfully preoccupied with the oranges now.
Under the fluorescence of the supermarket, every fine line on his face, every wrinkle in his suit can be seen clear as day. Yet, despite the more prominent frown lines and bags under his eyes, he still looks good.
“Yeah, they’re just... tasteless. I don’t know.” You respond absentmindedly, fingers brushing past the bananas. “I love these though.”
Turning back to him, you see that Higuruma’s eyebrow is quirked up at you. As always, his face remains stoic. He dawdles slowly over to you, reaching for a bunch of the yellow fruit and plopping them into the trolley; they land with an indignant thud against the latticed-metal.
“Of course you do, Y/N.” He says under his breath.
You scoff accusingly, folding your arms across your chest. “What? What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.” He says simply.
Nothing? Rolling your eyes, you know that he’s probably processing how phallic bananas actually look. There is a subtle boyish smirk on his lips that says enough about his state of mind already; why is everything always so impure with him? Nobody ever sees this side of him; the one that lets loose, that laughs at silly jokes. He’s always so serious.
You huff, about to make your way out of the produce section when you feel Higuruma’s large hand curl around your bicep. You turn back to him, a confused look on your face. There is something dark in his eyes now; he looks awfully broody.
“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” He asks, running a wet tongue across his bottom lip which looks plump and moistened.
“Yeah…? Is there a problem, Hiro?”
You don’t know where the sudden surge of confidence comes from, especially since one poignant look from Higuruma in your direction is usually enough to dissipate any act-ups. His eyes are focused on your face as pulls you in closer, raising his hand to the curvature of your jaw and barely skimming the skin with his knuckles. You begin to press your thighs together, feeling your thin underwear instantly dampen with your slick.
“And here I was thinking you would be good today.” He breathes heavily. For some reason or another, his gaze seems to soften now. “Don’t think that just because we are in public I won’t put you in your place.”
You let out a small chuckle, unable to contain your disbelief. He doesn’t have the guts – does he?
“Well, I won’t stop you.” You sing.
That earns a breathless chuckle from him. You clearly think this is a joke. Little do you know, he is already ticked off from class because some stupid fuck decided to turn in a half-written essay and then the students today were particularly disruptive; he reminds himself that this is why he doesn’t like teaching freshmen. You barely looked his way on the car ride here when his knuckles were gripping the steering wheel so tightly the skin stretched white across bone.
You know what punishments mean when it comes to Higuruma — and being the brat you are, you always enjoy being punished by him. He’s slow and sensual to match his age, always tracing the tip of his fingers over the softness of your inner thigh, as if he has all the time in the world, but never touching you where you need him; or even rubbing the tip of his wet cock over your swollen clit until you feel an orgasm approaching (which he dutifully denies you of).
Higuruma has always joked about a quickie in public, but you know for definite that he prefers to take his time with you; he has proven that time and time again. He would much prefer to have you begging to be fucked after a good hour of being teased or fingered without being granted your sweet release, rather than plunging himself into your heat without warning and moving on with the day.
“Maybe we should take this home,” he says, voice dropping an octave, “put you across my lap–”
“Hiro— you’re so serious sometimes. Honestly, your age is showing.” You joke, pushing on his arm slightly, barely even registering the hardening bulge in his trousers.
But the look on Higuruma’s face seems to say otherwise. It contradicts everything. His eyes are dancing from your lips to your eyes, almost as if he is calculating his next move based on your reaction. You start eyeing him warily when he begins tugging at the black tie around his neck to loosen it, grumbling under his breath. Your snide remark ignites something inside him, and within seconds he has abandoned the trolley and is dragging you by the wrist to an empty aisle.
“God, you’re such a brat sometimes.” He sighs.
You look around warily, scared someone might be watching but it’s around 10 PM and honestly, who the fuck goes grocery shopping at this time? You remember that the only reason you are here now is because Higuruma was complaining about the empty fridge earlier, and he didn’t want to wait until the morning after to drive to another part of town for groceries. The supermarket is big but empty at this late hour, with barely seven cars parked outside in the lot. This part of town is unfamiliar, and a little out of the city; even the drive here was mostly country roads.
You don’t even remember bumping into another soul in the past ten minutes, having only seen a single cashier who resembles a zombie working the graveyard shift rather than an actual human being.
“Hiro', what are you doing?” You exclaim in a hushed voice, coming to a stop by a shelf filled with wine bottles. The frown lines on his face seem to be deepening.
“Showing you who’s boss.” He says simply, pushing your thin summer dress up your thighs. “Why, I thought you wanted it.”
You are left gaping at him, speechless as he pushes you against the shelf with your back facing him now. He lays a chaste peck against your lightly-powdered cheek before tugging your underwear clean off of you.
The sensation of the cold supermarket air hitting your nether regions promptly gages a sharp gasp from your lips, feeling awfully exposed in the spacious aisle. He presses his front against your back, making your breasts squish uncomfortably against the ledge of a cold metal shelf. Even now, you can feel a deepening ache in your core.
“What if we get caught?” You say, though your voice has since lost the confidence you had earlier. “I don’t want to be arrested!”
Higuruma balls your wet underwear in his hands, feeling a flicker of pride for his influence over you — you’re just too easy sometimes. Only he knows how to quell your rebellious nature. Before responding, he stuffs your saturated panties into your mouth, prompting a muffled yelp from you.
You can practically hear his smirk as he presses his soft lips to your ear. “You forget that I’m a lawyer, darling.”
There is the sound of a metal clink, the fiddling of his belt buckle before he wets his fingers with his spit, sliding the digits in between your heat and then sinking them deep into you. Oh god, he really is doing this here.
The sound you make is obscene but it is music to his ears. The sound is gagged by your own lace underwear. Your moans have always been so sweet and mellow, no matter how hard he is pummelling into you and this moment is no different with his fingers curling against your sensitive walls, feeling yourself quivering on him.
“G-god– Hiro'– shit, please—” You whimper weakly against the material in your mouth, tasting the pleasant sweetness of your own arousal.
“Quiet, baby.” He coos, hearing the wet sloshing sound his hand makes against you.
As your eyes roll to the back of your head, he pulls his fingers out of your heat, replacing it with the tip of his hard cock. He teases you with it, rubbing it between your glistening folds and then nudging against your clit. You moan a little louder this time, immediately hearing him tut from behind you.
Higuruma grips his length, swiping the sticky wetness from your cunt and sheathing it all over him. With a breathy groan against your neck, he enters you slowly and begins flexing his hips into you.
The curve of his thick cock manages to press against all of the right places inside you, feeling him skewer you as he quichiros his pace. In an instant, you feel his hands ball into fistfuls of your hair, tugging your head back harshly for easy access to your neck. You try not to be too loud, for fear that someone will catch the two of you, but when he bucks his hips into your ass particularly roughly, you cannot help but let out a throaty groan as he tugs at your hair again, your ass slapping noisily against his skin.
This only encourages him to do it again and again until your leg is shaking from the overwhelming pleasure. He catches onto the weak buckling of your knees, deciding to pull out and turn you around to face him, hiking your leg up with his strong hands and pressing it against the wall before entering you again.
Your back presses hard against the hard metal shelves, but as he drills into you, panting and reddening in the face, you seem to forget the ache in your back and begin to focus on the approaching orgasm rippling through your insides.
“Do you want me to fuck you like this in public? You like the risk — don’t you?” He asks breathily.
You nod fervently, feeling your face screw up into a fucked-out expression. He almost chuckles at how obedient you are now, barely speaking back to him, even though he knows you cannot.
As you are split open over his cock, legs wide, open for the whole world to see, he sees the tears gathering at the corner of your eyes, threatening to spill out. Something in him wants to tell you how pretty you look being used like this, being fucked in a public space where anyone at any time could just stumble across this scene — but he elects not to, knowing that this is exactly what you want. You want to be coddled like a good girl, and he is not willing to give you that; at least, not right now.
The anxiety that someone will see the two of you like this seems to subside. Your free hand is gripping the shelf above you, holding onto it as Higuruma presses further into you, deeper into your warm wetness until you can’t control the slightly louder moan that spills from your mouth. You fist your boyfriend’s suit jacket, squeezing tightly both on his shoulder with your hand and your walls around his pulsating length.
Higuruma lets out a choked groan at the sensation, throwing his head back and breathing heavily, revelling in the tightness of you. He slips so easily along your walls that he is able to bottom out inside of you.
His lips look so pink and plump that you want to kiss him, pushing his face towards yours with a hand at the back of his head, but he only tuts and smirks, shaking his head at you. Your brows furrow together when he takes your hand off of him, pinning it above your head and holding it in place, continually burying himself in you. Your pleasure only climbs to its own peak.
You are absolutely perfect in every way, and he wants nothing more than to ravage you.
Higuruma feels your gushy wetness pulsate around his length, and he bites back a groan knowing you are close, but so is he. His balls tighten and for a second he contemplates denying himself his release, but with another buck of his hips he shoots his warm load inside of you. His fast pace from before subsides into a halt as he breathes against your collarbone, his minty breath fanning your hot skin.
“Oh, look at you,” he grins widely. “You’re so beautiful.”
His fingers extract the pair of underwear from your mouth, now wet with saliva. You attempt to steady your breathing, but the hungry look in his eyes does nothing to help. By the darkness swirling in his blue orbs, you can tell that he has other plans for you tonight; the ache in your core seems to be getting worse — you feel so empty now.
“Can I get a kiss?” You ask quietly, jutting out your bottom lip for him.
You watch as he stuffs your underwear into his pockets, leaning an arm against the shelf above you; feeling small under his gaze, you look innocently into his eyes.
Higuruma chuckles chestily, smoothing down your dress for you; however, his hands remain at your waist, drumming his fingers against your skin as he lays a lingering kiss on your lips. You smile into him, his teeth taking in your bottom lip. A quiet whimper escapes your lips at the sensation of his teeth sinking into you, but he lets go within seconds.
Tenderly, as if the last ten minutes didn't happen, he brings his hand to your hair, brushing at the wild strands that he helped create. Your heart almost swells in your chest seeing him like this — taking care of you like he said he always would. The dark expression on his face seems to have now softened into one of adoration.
Higuruma smiles at you, gentle and soft. His hand caresses your jaw once again before his thumb swipes at your bottom lip, holding your chin in his large hand. You hate how easily you melt into his touch. His other hand barely dances to your inner thigh, sweeping up the mess he had made with his fingers. Raising his fingers to your face, you see his white seed coating the tips of his digits and immediately open your mouth, tasting his saltiness on your tongue.
“Come on, let’s get home — I’ll have you for dessert if you’re good.”
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