Belle

Inspired by the movie with the same name from 2002.

Synopsis: You decide to pick up a job offer for a legal secretary at Hiromi’s office, you always thought you were weird for liking things people deemed to be dirty and shameful, little did you know that your boss was about to match your freak more then you have ever expected.

Content MDNI : Higuruma x Secretary F!Reader, Work AU (Secretary), slight slow burn, tension, spanking, eating you out, CNC??? (maybe idk), slight choking, unprotected sex, professional setting, punishment, he comes inside, aftercare.

p.s: this is the first time i wrote a fanfic+smut, so please be kind 😔. Special tags: @sweetmoonandstars @cowboylikeaya

W.Count: 4.4K

Since I was very young, I was deemed a reserved and shy child, my social circle was small—almost nonexistent—and over time, that isolation pressed on me until it felt unbearable. Whether that broke me entirely or merely fractured me into smaller, manageable pieces, I still don’t know.

While others reached outward, climbing toward attention and recognition, I lingered in the background. I never wanted the spotlight, I was drawn instead to darkness—to its muted comfort, to the warmth of deep reds and purples. While others saw pain and sorrow, I found endless beauty in the dimmer parts of the world.

I was never typical, and I doubt I ever will be. Others crave initiative, independence, the thrill of standing apart. I prefer order. Direct instructions. Clear expectations. I find comfort in them—the way streetlights guide you through a dark alley at night. To some, that makes me unusual. To others, unbearably dull.

I don’t mind either way.

That afternoon, I picked up the newspaper my mother had set aside to throw away and turned to the job listings.

“Secretary”

Private Legal Office Seeking Secretary.

Please contact the following email:

[email protected]

I circled the ad carefully, pressing the pen harder than necessary, and decided to apply.

After all, I had always done well in typing class.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a rainy Monday when I arrived at the office, my certifications and transcripts clutched to my chest. By the time I crossed the distance between the car and the building, the papers were damp, the ink threatening to bleed. I didn’t turn back.

Inside, the reception area was empty. No receptionist. No welcome. Papers lay scattered across the desk and floor, as if they had been abandoned mid-thought.

I followed the hallway until I reached a door left partially open.

“Mister Higuruma?” I called, using the name from the listing.

“Yes—come in, please.” His voice was low, rough around the edges. Present, but strangely unsure.

I stepped inside.

He was standing behind his desk, fingers combing through his hair in a futile attempt to fix it, only making it messier. His tie hung loose, dark green against a wrinkled shirt, and a small sunflower pin on his suit catching the dim light of the room in quiet defiance of everything else.

“Hello,” I spoke. He froze, then turned too quickly. His eyes were tired—deep-set, sharp, like someone who hadn’t slept enough for a long while.

“Hi,” he replied, awkwardly. “You’re…?”

“I saw the listing,” I said too fast. “For the secretary position. In the newspaper.”

“Ah—yes. I—”

“I’m sorry,” I interrupted, already stepping back. “I can come back later if you’re busy.”

I turned toward the door.

“Wait.” The word stopped me instantly. Not loud, but absolute.

“…Please stay,” he added, now quieter and soft-spoken words that melt into my ears.

He sat down and accepted the damp papers from my hands. He didn’t comment on the water stains. He only aligned the edges against his desk, carefully, as if restoring order.

“You understand this position requires discretion,” he said, scanning my transcripts.

“Yes.”

“You’ll be working with sensitive cases,” he said gently. “Sometimes the details are unpleasant, and sometimes the law isn’t as kind as it should be. Can you remain precise and calm, even under pressure?”

“Yes” I replied, feeling his steady gaze scanning my face, as I remain focused on his eyes, later they meet mine for a brief moment, and I felt like there was millions of fire sparks igniting and burning my flesh all over *don’t think about that stupid, he is about to be your boss*. His look wasn’t intimidating—it was… safe, responsible, and somewhat proud. He nodded once, almost like he had expected my obedience.

“Very Good. Start tomorrow. I’ll guide you through the procedure. Everything has a method here, and if you follow it, nothing will overwhelm you.”

3 months later:

The office had a rhythm I felt in my bones. Each file, each page, each pen stroke fell into its place almost automatically, yet I could feel his eyes on me at all times—not judgmental, not impatient, just aware, tracking every movement.

That awareness was like a current running under the surface, quiet but undeniable, and I could feel myself responding without thinking, adjusting my posture, my pace, the angle of the papers in my hands. His gaze was like a fluorescent line on a highway, keeping me exactly where he wanted.

When he finally looked up, it was only for a heartbeat, and yet the glance carried more weight than words ever could—an unspoken insistence that I meet the standard he expected, and a silent acknowledgment that I was doing exactly that. My chest tightened with a strange anticipation, as if following his rules so carefully had become its own kind of intimacy, a private dialogue conducted in obedience and observation.

The longer I worked beside him, the more I saw him clearly—not as my employer, not even as a lawyer, but as someone quietly shaped by the same edges that had shaped me.

Higuruma didn’t demand attention; he existed within himself, steady and contained, as if the world had once disappointed him and he had learned how to live carefully because of it. There was a gentleness to his discipline, a kindness hidden in how precise he was, and I found myself drawn to it in ways I couldn’t explain.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I took my usual coffee with Shimizu and we settled into our favorite spot near the building, the early sun warming the pavement.

“So,” she said casually, stirring her drink. “How are things progressing with Mr. Higuruma?”

“Huh?” I blinked.

She smiled knowingly. “Come on. The glances. The silence. The tension. Professional matters aside, I feel like you two would make a great couple.”

I nearly choked on my coffee. “Shimizu, please. It’s not like that. I respect Mr. Higuruma. And I’m sure he respects me too.”

She raised a brow. “I’ve worked with him for two years. Secretaries come and go, but never once did he express such interest in one. I’d go as far as saying I’ve never seen him interested in a woman at all.” She leaned closer. “The air changes when you’re in the same room. It’s suffocating.”

My palms turned clammy, “aren’t you a paralegal? you should be telling me not to fuck my boss, not encourage it” she bursts laughing “Relax, it’s just girl talk, and besides I just couldn’t deny y’all’s desperate want to actually fuck” her voice was slightly louder on that last insinuation, this girl is going to be the end of me.

If I am being honest to myself, she is totally right, the way we have been devouring each other with just looks for the past month is truly undeniable.

And yes, Higuruma is an extremely attractive man, he has a strong profile, perked thin lips and wide dark eyes that look exhausted all the time, which added so much to his character, he is so hardworking and kind, to the point where he tires himself to the brink of death sometimes to be well prepared for a trial, he truly cares about the innocent, and it makes me dream of how perfect he’d be as a partner, taking care of everything without making you worry about a thing.

Making me want to desperately take care of him and hold him close while he relaxes in my embrace after a long day of work.

One of his most prominent and unique features is his nose, it was such a beautiful shape, long and big, with a strong outer bone, a true historically accurate Greek nose.

There was no denying of the deep want inside of me to hold his face and kiss each part of it, ending my trail on his beautiful nose bridge.

“HaHa, I knew it, you do like him, your face looks like it has been simmering in a hot pot for an hour” she started laughing again.

“Please stop” I muttered, hiding my face.

Before I could recover, a shadow fell over us blocking the sunlight. I turn around and wish I had buried myself and reached for Shimizu’s feet to drag her down with me.

“Are you two finished with your morning discussion” he looks at the both of us before holding eye contact with me and softly smiled, I felt butterflies all over my stomach.

Please don’t tell me he heard anything.

“Good morning, Mr. Higuruma” Shimizu said brightly “Yes, just wrapping up”. Shimizu was always the spontaneous type, not scared to be out of line sometimes, she is the embodiment of a wild spirit.

“Miss Shimizu, you have a trial with Miss Hina at 10:30, right?” he spoke firmly, his eyes still on mine.

“Oh my god, you’re right. I got to go immediately, I’ll see you two later, have fun” she turns to me and winks, did she just…I have a weird feeling, that could only be a mix of high adrenalin mixed with cortisol.

“Follow me Miss Y/N, I need you” I nod and follow after him.

Back At the office;

“Y/N, take these files from the Takemura case. Transcribe them exactly. Accuracy first, speed second.” He ordered; the soft roll of my name on his tongue caught me off guard. “Yes, sir,” I said, the slip of ‘sir’ hanging in the air. He stiffened, intrigued, accustomed to the usual “Mister Higuruma.”

I reached for my computer and booted the typing system. His eyes stayed on me, unwavering, as I set my fingers to the keys.

Click, click, click.

I typed with careful precision, each word deliberate. The tension pressed in from all sides, making the task feel slower and heavier. His presence drew in closer, closer, and closer, until the shadow of him hovered just above my seated figure.

“You are tapping your feet too loudly, Miss Y/N.” His voice was close—closer than I expected—and I realized he had leaned over, his presence pressing down, his warm breath brushing against my burning ears, and sent that was a mix between coffee and strong musk filled my nostrils.

“I’m sorry, sir,” I whispered. I could have sworn I heard a low, almost rough hum escape him at the slip of ‘sir’ again. A dark, thrilling feeling surged inside me, urging me to step further, to cross an invisible line I hadn’t dared touch before—the same way I had on my first day, but deeper, more… daring.

He stepped back slightly, still above me, eyes scanning the text I typed with an unreadable expression. My fingers moved automatically, producing paragraph after paragraph. Then, suddenly, a firm hand gripped mine, halting me mid-keystroke.

“Is everything alright Y/N?” he asked softly but firmly

“What?”

“The last two paragraphs you wrote are the same, I am pretty sure there is one description of the weapon in that document” he explained, patient but precise. My mind had wandered, and I hadn’t realized I was repeating myself.

“Oh—sorry, Mister Higuruma.”

His hand lingered on mine. I looked up, and our eyes met. My heart raced; I was certain he could hear it. His grip tightened slightly. “Miss Y/N, you understand how important these transcriptions are, yes?”

“Yes,” I whispered, voice unsteady.

“Your mind shouldn’t wander while you’re writing,” he said, leaning closer. He rested his other arm on the desk, framing me as if I was a criminal on trial.

Then his hand left mine and brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “Miss Y/N… what exactly goes on in that mind of yours?” he finally asks; His tone was soft and firm, searching for an unclear answer, as if he was seeking some kind of confirmation.

I froze, eyes wide, mouth slightly parted. For a moment, the room narrowed to that question, to his gaze, to the quiet insistence in his presence.

It was wrong, in a way I shouldn’t have been drawn to—but I found myself drifting there anyway, unable to look away. My gaze faltered, drifting from his eyes to his nose then his lips before I could stop myself. Panic followed instantly, and I turned away—but his hand caught my chin, guiding my face back toward him.

“Look at me,” he said quietly.

I did. My body felt fragile under his attention, like water beneath a relentless sun, close to dissolving.

“Tell me,” He murmured, his voice weighted with restraint. “What do you need right now, Y/N?” My name settled heavily between us.

I search his eyes for a second “What do I need?” I repeat his question in a confused tone “I am sorry I don’t- “

“I think you know what I mean Y/N, we both know, even other people have noticed, didn’t they?”. Well, that answers my questions enough; Yes, he most definitely heard what Shimizu and I were talking about.

I drew in a shaky breath. “Whatever you see fit, sir.” His thumb lingered at my jaw, his gaze searching my face, as if confirming something only he could see. Only then did he lean in, slow, giving me time to pull away.

I didn’t.

When his lips met mine, the kiss was gentle, but carried a restrained intensity that made my breath catch. I responded without hesitation, pressing closer, desperate not for urgency, but for his attention, his guidance, him.

His hand cupped my cheek, steady and warm, and he tilted his face just enough to deepen the kiss. I parted my lips without thinking, a small sound slipping out before I could stop it. His touch slid from my cheek to the side of my neck; he slowly grabs it in a soft choke anchoring me. The sensation sent a slow spiral through my body, dizzying and overwhelming.

Then he stopped.

The sudden absence left me breathless, his warmth lingering between us, his breath still close enough to feel. My lips burned, my thoughts scattered, my body caught somewhere between restraint and longing.

“So beautiful,” he murmured. The words undid me more than the kiss had.

“Hiromi… please,” I whispered, not even sure what I was asking for anymore. The tension of weeks, of rules and glances and unspoken permission, pressed in all at once. He answered only with a low hum.

“My name sounds so good on your lips” he said softly. “Tell me what you need.”

He helped me to my feet, positioning me against the edge of the desk as if arranging something delicate.

“Please, I need you” I beg yet again, desperate for his touch, and for him to totally take control over me.

He stilled at that, his forehead resting briefly against mine, as if grounding the both of us.

“I want you to turn around for me, bend over, palms on the desk and read the transcript aloud” he orders with a ragged voice. I look into his eyes confused, but comply without hesitating, strangely intrigued by his command.

I position myself accordingly, and start reading the document I typed out on my desktop.

I reached the weapon description paragraph “the alleged weapon—a stainless steel folding knife, eighteen centime- “*SLAP* I feel a loud bang on my rear side, I look back into his eyes in shock mixed with something darker.

“Continue” he commands once again. “-in total lengh- “*SLAP* another one comes crashing down, harder this time, and I yelp. I continue reading either way, while he repeated the hits one after the other.

“No DNA had been-Ah-extracte-ngh” reading was harder than ever, my legs started shaking and it felt weirdly erotic.

I finish off the paragraph, a whining mess all panting and my heart was about to burst. Higuruma came crashing down on me, his face near mine and hands on both sides of the desk. He himself was out of breath, looking like he has been running a marathon with the force he has put into each slap.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and the concern in his voice only made the hunger inside me sharper.

 “mmmh” he makes a sickening sound, and I melt into him, pressing back against him, slowly. Only then did I realize what I was doing — the subtle grind of my hips, the way my body moved without permission.

“Answer me, sweetie” The nickname made my back arch instinctively. I could feel him, firm and unmistakably hard behind me. A slight moan slips off my mouth.

“Y-yes I am-mm” I answer, trying to get the words out without begging for him to fuck me already, but I think he already read thru my twisted mind, his hands travel from mine to the hem of my blouse, unbuttoning it in a painfully slow speed.

“Since the day you walked into this office,” he murmured, “you’ve occupied more of my thoughts than you should.” The confession felt like a spell.

His hands go to undo my bra; He turned me to face him, capturing my mouth in a deep, sloppy, and consuming kiss before leaving away a trail of wet kisses all over my neck, till he reached my breast.

I reach for his hair, gripping it hard, he purrs; The control in his movements contrasted with the hunger in his eyes that were looking directly at mine, while he grabbed and squeezed with one hand, and his mouth was devouring my other nipple. And when he stepped back to loosen his tie, and to unbuckle his belt, the anticipation was almost unbearable.

But instead of finishing what I expected, he slightly smirks and aggressively grabs my hips, sitting me up on the desk and bringing my stiletto skirt up, revealing my soaked panties.

“Let me take care of you first.”

He goes down on his knees and slowly opens my legs, the sight was truly one to behold, his lust filled eyes looked up at me one last time, before kissing the insides of my thighs;

 “Hiromi, aah” I called out for him when I felt his thumb against my covered wetness. He hummed softly, as though pleased with the way I said his name.

“Shhh, I know baby I know, she’s dripping for me” he removed my panties and put them in his pockets, my insides clenched at the filthy act.

His fingers spread my folds open in a shameful way, I look down, as he goes in for my opening, gliding his tongue up and down, his nose pushing thru my clit in the same rhythm. My voice becoming louder with each trust of his tongue.

“You taste like honey, so sweet” he groans into my pussy.

“Hiromi, I am close, p-please AH” I beg for release, I was going insane with the way he has been thrusting his fingers in and out accompanied with his tongue and the flicking of my clit with both his thumb and nose;

But then, just before it comes crashing down, he halts all contact, the loss hit me like a drop from a great height.

Reaching back to his head and trying to push him back, he holds my wrist stopping me “It’s okay beautiful, just be patient” he coos and gets back on his feet, getting closer to my face and kissing my forehead “I’ll make sure you feel even better”.

He continues his previous unbuckling of his belt and removes his black boxers, his hard length sprung free, it was girthy and big, the veins on it looked ready to pop, and his rosy tip was leaking precum;

I was drooling just thinking about it lining my insides and drilling into them till my core was shaped for him and him alone.

He positioned himself at my entrance “Are you ready, sweetie?” he asked;

“Yes,” I answered immediately. “Please Fuck me”

“Such a dirty mouth on pretty girl like you miss Y/N” before I open my mouth again, he thrusts his length so deep inside, stealing the air from my lungs, sharp and overwhelming, I jolt forward and scream. He set a rhythm that was steady at first, letting me adjust, letting my body learn him.     

“Oh my god it’s so good” I exhale.

Each movement pulled another sound from me, another broken breath. He held my hips firmly with one hand, guiding the motion, controlling the distance between us until there was none left, trying to hit that spot that is guaranteed to drive me to the edge. The other hand goes up my chest till it reached my neck and squeezed softly, just with enough force to make me throw my head back and open my mouth wide in a O shape.

“You feel even better than I had ever imagined sweetheart” the thought of him thinking about me in ways that were this dirty was making my insides twist and turn;

“Relax baby, you are squeezing me so hard” he groaned and started speeding up with a roughness, making me scream louder than ever before.

Our sex filled the air with distorted mist, the strong sent of our released tension, our heavy breathing and dirty noises.

At this point, I was a mess, messy hair, crying from the sheer amount of pleasure and eyes rolling back while I held him from his shoulders, nails digging in enough to leave marks. He brings my hips in closer to his pelvis, so that nothing of him is left outside, I feel him reaching in deeper and hitting that sweet spot, making me just absolutely loose it.

My reaction made him even more confident in his actions now, and he continued with the same rhythm and force “Oh fuck, sweetheart you are so perfect, I am almost there” Hiromi was also getting to his limit, he was a groaning and panting mess, beads of sweat trickled from his damp hair, and eyes closed with a beautiful expression on his face of pure bliss.

I come closer to his face, and kiss his nose, then the side of his cheek. He held me so close, eye to eye “are you close baby?” he asks and I nod frantically;

“Use your words, beautiful” he asks, and slows his pace just enough to make me whine in fear of coming down from my high again; “Tell me what is it you need, Y/N, I want to hear your sweet voice say it” this time he asked this question, it was more needy than before, more ragged and rawer, but oh so gentle.

“I want to come,” I gasped. “Please—” eyes teary and looking at his directly with plea and pure desire.

That was all he needed.

His pace became relentless, and I finally shattered beneath him, I never came this close to death from pure sexual ecstasy.

He followed soon after, and made painfully sexy loud groan that made my insides clench around him, milking him in till I was sure he filled up every inch of me.

Our breathing was uneven, the last traces of warmth fading into something calmer. He steadied me first, adjusting his belt, then smoothing my clothes back into place with careful hands, as if restoring something precious rather than simply fixing fabric.

Before I could fully gather myself, he lifted me effortlessly.

“You carry me around an awful lot,” I murmured, resting my head against his shoulder.

“You seem to require it,” he replied evenly.

“That sounds suspiciously like blame.”

“It sounds like observation.”

He carried me up the stairs and into a dim room washed in soft red and violet light. My eyes adjusted slowly, taking in the dozens of flower pots lining the walls. The most promising ones were Orchids, Fuchsia pink, delicate, and luminous against the dark. They felt impossibly fragile, thriving only under controlled light.

Like me; I couldn’t help but feel seen.

He set me down on a wide wooden table beneath a wash of golden and purple glow. The room smelled faintly of water and petals.

“Lie back,” he said in a calm tone.

He prepared warm water, testing it before the cloth touched my skin. The same hands that had been firm were now patient, tracing careful paths as he cleaned me, while leaving soft kisses on each spot.

I watched him from beneath my lashes, a small smile tugging at my mouth.

“You’re very serious about this,” I said.

“I am serious about everything”

“That’s not true,” I countered softly. “You looked very unserious a few minutes ago.”

One of his brows lifted slightly — the closest he ever came to looking flustered.

“You’re mistaken.”

I laughed quietly. “Mm. If you say so.”

He wrung out the cloth, composed as ever. “You seem pleased.”

“I am,” I admitted without hesitation.

A pause.

“Good,” he said simply.

I reached out and lightly tugged at the sleeve of his shirt before he could step away. “You know,” I added, smiling up at him, “for someone so strict, you’re surprisingly gentle.”

His expression softened almost imperceptibly.

“Only when necessary.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

I studied him for a moment, then nodded as if accepting a verdict. “Then I suppose I’ll have to keep being necessary.”

The faintest hint of amusement crossed his face.

“Careful,” he warned quietly. I tilted my head. “Or what?”

His gaze lingered on me for a second longer than necessary, that steady, unreadable look that always made my stomach flip.

“Or you may find yourself tested again,”

I felt the heat rise to my cheeks — but I didn’t look away this time.

“That sounds less like a warning, and more like a promise.”

He let out the softest breath of a laugh, “You’re becoming bold,” he observed.

“Occupational hazard,” I replied. “I learn from my employer.”

He shook his head slightly, reaching to brush a stray strand of hair from my face — a simple, absent gesture that felt more intimate than anything else.

He then looks at me; his eyes filled with admiration and something else that made me weak all over again. “What do you say for a dinner tonight, me and you” he asks, and I smile, this time happiness clouding my expression.

“Are you asking me out, mister Higuruma? so unprofessional” I tease, he lets out a cute laugh.

“Well, nothing of what happened here was professional dear, might as well take the chance” his hand lingered on my cheek caressing it delicately. “So, is it a, yes?”

Inspired by the movie with the same name from 2002.

Synopsis: You decide to pick up a job offer for a legal secretary at Hiromi’s office, you always thought you were weird for liking things people deemed to be dirty and shameful, little did you know that your boss was about to match your freak more then you have ever expected.

Content MDNI : Higuruma x Secretary F!Reader, Work AU (Secretary), slight slow burn, tension, spanking, eating you out, CNC??? (maybe idk), slight choking, unprotected sex, professional setting, punishment, he comes inside, aftercare.

p.s: this is the first time i wrote a fanfic+smut, so please be kind 😔. Special tags: @sweetmoonandstars @cowboylikeaya

W.Count: 4.4K

Since I was very young, I was deemed a reserved and shy child, my social circle was small—almost nonexistent—and over time, that isolation pressed on me until it felt unbearable. Whether that broke me entirely or merely fractured me into smaller, manageable pieces, I still don’t know.

While others reached outward, climbing toward attention and recognition, I lingered in the background. I never wanted the spotlight, I was drawn instead to darkness—to its muted comfort, to the warmth of deep reds and purples. While others saw pain and sorrow, I found endless beauty in the dimmer parts of the world.

I was never typical, and I doubt I ever will be. Others crave initiative, independence, the thrill of standing apart. I prefer order. Direct instructions. Clear expectations. I find comfort in them—the way streetlights guide you through a dark alley at night. To some, that makes me unusual. To others, unbearably dull.

I don’t mind either way.

That afternoon, I picked up the newspaper my mother had set aside to throw away and turned to the job listings.

“Secretary”

Private Legal Office Seeking Secretary.

Please contact the following email:

[email protected]

I circled the ad carefully, pressing the pen harder than necessary, and decided to apply.

After all, I had always done well in typing class.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a rainy Monday when I arrived at the office, my certifications and transcripts clutched to my chest. By the time I crossed the distance between the car and the building, the papers were damp, the ink threatening to bleed. I didn’t turn back.

Inside, the reception area was empty. No receptionist. No welcome. Papers lay scattered across the desk and floor, as if they had been abandoned mid-thought.

I followed the hallway until I reached a door left partially open.

“Mister Higuruma?” I called, using the name from the listing.

“Yes—come in, please.” His voice was low, rough around the edges. Present, but strangely unsure.

I stepped inside.

He was standing behind his desk, fingers combing through his hair in a futile attempt to fix it, only making it messier. His tie hung loose, dark green against a wrinkled shirt, and a small sunflower pin on his suit catching the dim light of the room in quiet defiance of everything else.

“Hello,” I spoke. He froze, then turned too quickly. His eyes were tired—deep-set, sharp, like someone who hadn’t slept enough for a long while.

“Hi,” he replied, awkwardly. “You’re…?”

“I saw the listing,” I said too fast. “For the secretary position. In the newspaper.”

“Ah—yes. I—”

“I’m sorry,” I interrupted, already stepping back. “I can come back later if you’re busy.”

I turned toward the door.

“Wait.” The word stopped me instantly. Not loud, but absolute.

“…Please stay,” he added, now quieter and soft-spoken words that melt into my ears.

He sat down and accepted the damp papers from my hands. He didn’t comment on the water stains. He only aligned the edges against his desk, carefully, as if restoring order.

“You understand this position requires discretion,” he said, scanning my transcripts.

“Yes.”

“You’ll be working with sensitive cases,” he said gently. “Sometimes the details are unpleasant, and sometimes the law isn’t as kind as it should be. Can you remain precise and calm, even under pressure?”

“Yes” I replied, feeling his steady gaze scanning my face, as I remain focused on his eyes, later they meet mine for a brief moment, and I felt like there was millions of fire sparks igniting and burning my flesh all over *don’t think about that stupid, he is about to be your boss*. His look wasn’t intimidating—it was… safe, responsible, and somewhat proud. He nodded once, almost like he had expected my obedience.

“Very Good. Start tomorrow. I’ll guide you through the procedure. Everything has a method here, and if you follow it, nothing will overwhelm you.”

3 months later:

The office had a rhythm I felt in my bones. Each file, each page, each pen stroke fell into its place almost automatically, yet I could feel his eyes on me at all times—not judgmental, not impatient, just aware, tracking every movement.

That awareness was like a current running under the surface, quiet but undeniable, and I could feel myself responding without thinking, adjusting my posture, my pace, the angle of the papers in my hands. His gaze was like a fluorescent line on a highway, keeping me exactly where he wanted.

When he finally looked up, it was only for a heartbeat, and yet the glance carried more weight than words ever could—an unspoken insistence that I meet the standard he expected, and a silent acknowledgment that I was doing exactly that. My chest tightened with a strange anticipation, as if following his rules so carefully had become its own kind of intimacy, a private dialogue conducted in obedience and observation.

The longer I worked beside him, the more I saw him clearly—not as my employer, not even as a lawyer, but as someone quietly shaped by the same edges that had shaped me.

Higuruma didn’t demand attention; he existed within himself, steady and contained, as if the world had once disappointed him and he had learned how to live carefully because of it. There was a gentleness to his discipline, a kindness hidden in how precise he was, and I found myself drawn to it in ways I couldn’t explain.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I took my usual coffee with Shimizu and we settled into our favorite spot near the building, the early sun warming the pavement.

“So,” she said casually, stirring her drink. “How are things progressing with Mr. Higuruma?”

“Huh?” I blinked.

She smiled knowingly. “Come on. The glances. The silence. The tension. Professional matters aside, I feel like you two would make a great couple.”

I nearly choked on my coffee. “Shimizu, please. It’s not like that. I respect Mr. Higuruma. And I’m sure he respects me too.”

She raised a brow. “I’ve worked with him for two years. Secretaries come and go, but never once did he express such interest in one. I’d go as far as saying I’ve never seen him interested in a woman at all.” She leaned closer. “The air changes when you’re in the same room. It’s suffocating.”

My palms turned clammy, “aren’t you a paralegal? you should be telling me not to fuck my boss, not encourage it” she bursts laughing “Relax, it’s just girl talk, and besides I just couldn’t deny y’all’s desperate want to actually fuck” her voice was slightly louder on that last insinuation, this girl is going to be the end of me.

If I am being honest to myself, she is totally right, the way we have been devouring each other with just looks for the past month is truly undeniable.

And yes, Higuruma is an extremely attractive man, he has a strong profile, perked thin lips and wide dark eyes that look exhausted all the time, which added so much to his character, he is so hardworking and kind, to the point where he tires himself to the brink of death sometimes to be well prepared for a trial, he truly cares about the innocent, and it makes me dream of how perfect he’d be as a partner, taking care of everything without making you worry about a thing.

Making me want to desperately take care of him and hold him close while he relaxes in my embrace after a long day of work.

One of his most prominent and unique features is his nose, it was such a beautiful shape, long and big, with a strong outer bone, a true historically accurate Greek nose.

There was no denying of the deep want inside of me to hold his face and kiss each part of it, ending my trail on his beautiful nose bridge.

“HaHa, I knew it, you do like him, your face looks like it has been simmering in a hot pot for an hour” she started laughing again.

“Please stop” I muttered, hiding my face.

Before I could recover, a shadow fell over us blocking the sunlight. I turn around and wish I had buried myself and reached for Shimizu’s feet to drag her down with me.

“Are you two finished with your morning discussion” he looks at the both of us before holding eye contact with me and softly smiled, I felt butterflies all over my stomach.

Please don’t tell me he heard anything.

“Good morning, Mr. Higuruma” Shimizu said brightly “Yes, just wrapping up”. Shimizu was always the spontaneous type, not scared to be out of line sometimes, she is the embodiment of a wild spirit.

“Miss Shimizu, you have a trial with Miss Hina at 10:30, right?” he spoke firmly, his eyes still on mine.

“Oh my god, you’re right. I got to go immediately, I’ll see you two later, have fun” she turns to me and winks, did she just…I have a weird feeling, that could only be a mix of high adrenalin mixed with cortisol.

“Follow me Miss Y/N, I need you” I nod and follow after him.

Back At the office;

“Y/N, take these files from the Takemura case. Transcribe them exactly. Accuracy first, speed second.” He ordered; the soft roll of my name on his tongue caught me off guard. “Yes, sir,” I said, the slip of ‘sir’ hanging in the air. He stiffened, intrigued, accustomed to the usual “Mister Higuruma.”

I reached for my computer and booted the typing system. His eyes stayed on me, unwavering, as I set my fingers to the keys.

Click, click, click.

I typed with careful precision, each word deliberate. The tension pressed in from all sides, making the task feel slower and heavier. His presence drew in closer, closer, and closer, until the shadow of him hovered just above my seated figure.

“You are tapping your feet too loudly, Miss Y/N.” His voice was close—closer than I expected—and I realized he had leaned over, his presence pressing down, his warm breath brushing against my burning ears, and sent that was a mix between coffee and strong musk filled my nostrils.

“I’m sorry, sir,” I whispered. I could have sworn I heard a low, almost rough hum escape him at the slip of ‘sir’ again. A dark, thrilling feeling surged inside me, urging me to step further, to cross an invisible line I hadn’t dared touch before—the same way I had on my first day, but deeper, more… daring.

He stepped back slightly, still above me, eyes scanning the text I typed with an unreadable expression. My fingers moved automatically, producing paragraph after paragraph. Then, suddenly, a firm hand gripped mine, halting me mid-keystroke.

“Is everything alright Y/N?” he asked softly but firmly

“What?”

“The last two paragraphs you wrote are the same, I am pretty sure there is one description of the weapon in that document” he explained, patient but precise. My mind had wandered, and I hadn’t realized I was repeating myself.

“Oh—sorry, Mister Higuruma.”

His hand lingered on mine. I looked up, and our eyes met. My heart raced; I was certain he could hear it. His grip tightened slightly. “Miss Y/N, you understand how important these transcriptions are, yes?”

“Yes,” I whispered, voice unsteady.

“Your mind shouldn’t wander while you’re writing,” he said, leaning closer. He rested his other arm on the desk, framing me as if I was a criminal on trial.

Then his hand left mine and brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “Miss Y/N… what exactly goes on in that mind of yours?” he finally asks; His tone was soft and firm, searching for an unclear answer, as if he was seeking some kind of confirmation.

I froze, eyes wide, mouth slightly parted. For a moment, the room narrowed to that question, to his gaze, to the quiet insistence in his presence.

It was wrong, in a way I shouldn’t have been drawn to—but I found myself drifting there anyway, unable to look away. My gaze faltered, drifting from his eyes to his nose then his lips before I could stop myself. Panic followed instantly, and I turned away—but his hand caught my chin, guiding my face back toward him.

“Look at me,” he said quietly.

I did. My body felt fragile under his attention, like water beneath a relentless sun, close to dissolving.

“Tell me,” He murmured, his voice weighted with restraint. “What do you need right now, Y/N?” My name settled heavily between us.

I search his eyes for a second “What do I need?” I repeat his question in a confused tone “I am sorry I don’t- “

“I think you know what I mean Y/N, we both know, even other people have noticed, didn’t they?”. Well, that answers my questions enough; Yes, he most definitely heard what Shimizu and I were talking about.

I drew in a shaky breath. “Whatever you see fit, sir.” His thumb lingered at my jaw, his gaze searching my face, as if confirming something only he could see. Only then did he lean in, slow, giving me time to pull away.

I didn’t.

When his lips met mine, the kiss was gentle, but carried a restrained intensity that made my breath catch. I responded without hesitation, pressing closer, desperate not for urgency, but for his attention, his guidance, him.

His hand cupped my cheek, steady and warm, and he tilted his face just enough to deepen the kiss. I parted my lips without thinking, a small sound slipping out before I could stop it. His touch slid from my cheek to the side of my neck; he slowly grabs it in a soft choke anchoring me. The sensation sent a slow spiral through my body, dizzying and overwhelming.

Then he stopped.

The sudden absence left me breathless, his warmth lingering between us, his breath still close enough to feel. My lips burned, my thoughts scattered, my body caught somewhere between restraint and longing.

“So beautiful,” he murmured. The words undid me more than the kiss had.

“Hiromi… please,” I whispered, not even sure what I was asking for anymore. The tension of weeks, of rules and glances and unspoken permission, pressed in all at once. He answered only with a low hum.

“My name sounds so good on your lips” he said softly. “Tell me what you need.”

He helped me to my feet, positioning me against the edge of the desk as if arranging something delicate.

“Please, I need you” I beg yet again, desperate for his touch, and for him to totally take control over me.

He stilled at that, his forehead resting briefly against mine, as if grounding the both of us.

“I want you to turn around for me, bend over, palms on the desk and read the transcript aloud” he orders with a ragged voice. I look into his eyes confused, but comply without hesitating, strangely intrigued by his command.

I position myself accordingly, and start reading the document I typed out on my desktop.

I reached the weapon description paragraph “the alleged weapon—a stainless steel folding knife, eighteen centime- “*SLAP* I feel a loud bang on my rear side, I look back into his eyes in shock mixed with something darker.

“Continue” he commands once again. “-in total lengh- “*SLAP* another one comes crashing down, harder this time, and I yelp. I continue reading either way, while he repeated the hits one after the other.

“No DNA had been-Ah-extracte-ngh” reading was harder than ever, my legs started shaking and it felt weirdly erotic.

I finish off the paragraph, a whining mess all panting and my heart was about to burst. Higuruma came crashing down on me, his face near mine and hands on both sides of the desk. He himself was out of breath, looking like he has been running a marathon with the force he has put into each slap.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and the concern in his voice only made the hunger inside me sharper.

 “mmmh” he makes a sickening sound, and I melt into him, pressing back against him, slowly. Only then did I realize what I was doing — the subtle grind of my hips, the way my body moved without permission.

“Answer me, sweetie” The nickname made my back arch instinctively. I could feel him, firm and unmistakably hard behind me. A slight moan slips off my mouth.

“Y-yes I am-mm” I answer, trying to get the words out without begging for him to fuck me already, but I think he already read thru my twisted mind, his hands travel from mine to the hem of my blouse, unbuttoning it in a painfully slow speed.

“Since the day you walked into this office,” he murmured, “you’ve occupied more of my thoughts than you should.” The confession felt like a spell.

His hands go to undo my bra; He turned me to face him, capturing my mouth in a deep, sloppy, and consuming kiss before leaving away a trail of wet kisses all over my neck, till he reached my breast.

I reach for his hair, gripping it hard, he purrs; The control in his movements contrasted with the hunger in his eyes that were looking directly at mine, while he grabbed and squeezed with one hand, and his mouth was devouring my other nipple. And when he stepped back to loosen his tie, and to unbuckle his belt, the anticipation was almost unbearable.

But instead of finishing what I expected, he slightly smirks and aggressively grabs my hips, sitting me up on the desk and bringing my stiletto skirt up, revealing my soaked panties.

“Let me take care of you first.”

He goes down on his knees and slowly opens my legs, the sight was truly one to behold, his lust filled eyes looked up at me one last time, before kissing the insides of my thighs;

 “Hiromi, aah” I called out for him when I felt his thumb against my covered wetness. He hummed softly, as though pleased with the way I said his name.

“Shhh, I know baby I know, she’s dripping for me” he removed my panties and put them in his pockets, my insides clenched at the filthy act.

His fingers spread my folds open in a shameful way, I look down, as he goes in for my opening, gliding his tongue up and down, his nose pushing thru my clit in the same rhythm. My voice becoming louder with each trust of his tongue.

“You taste like honey, so sweet” he groans into my pussy.

“Hiromi, I am close, p-please AH” I beg for release, I was going insane with the way he has been thrusting his fingers in and out accompanied with his tongue and the flicking of my clit with both his thumb and nose;

But then, just before it comes crashing down, he halts all contact, the loss hit me like a drop from a great height.

Reaching back to his head and trying to push him back, he holds my wrist stopping me “It’s okay beautiful, just be patient” he coos and gets back on his feet, getting closer to my face and kissing my forehead “I’ll make sure you feel even better”.

He continues his previous unbuckling of his belt and removes his black boxers, his hard length sprung free, it was girthy and big, the veins on it looked ready to pop, and his rosy tip was leaking precum;

I was drooling just thinking about it lining my insides and drilling into them till my core was shaped for him and him alone.

He positioned himself at my entrance “Are you ready, sweetie?” he asked;

“Yes,” I answered immediately. “Please Fuck me”

“Such a dirty mouth on pretty girl like you miss Y/N” before I open my mouth again, he thrusts his length so deep inside, stealing the air from my lungs, sharp and overwhelming, I jolt forward and scream. He set a rhythm that was steady at first, letting me adjust, letting my body learn him.     

“Oh my god it’s so good” I exhale.

Each movement pulled another sound from me, another broken breath. He held my hips firmly with one hand, guiding the motion, controlling the distance between us until there was none left, trying to hit that spot that is guaranteed to drive me to the edge. The other hand goes up my chest till it reached my neck and squeezed softly, just with enough force to make me throw my head back and open my mouth wide in a O shape.

“You feel even better than I had ever imagined sweetheart” the thought of him thinking about me in ways that were this dirty was making my insides twist and turn;

“Relax baby, you are squeezing me so hard” he groaned and started speeding up with a roughness, making me scream louder than ever before.

Our sex filled the air with distorted mist, the strong sent of our released tension, our heavy breathing and dirty noises.

At this point, I was a mess, messy hair, crying from the sheer amount of pleasure and eyes rolling back while I held him from his shoulders, nails digging in enough to leave marks. He brings my hips in closer to his pelvis, so that nothing of him is left outside, I feel him reaching in deeper and hitting that sweet spot, making me just absolutely loose it.

My reaction made him even more confident in his actions now, and he continued with the same rhythm and force “Oh fuck, sweetheart you are so perfect, I am almost there” Hiromi was also getting to his limit, he was a groaning and panting mess, beads of sweat trickled from his damp hair, and eyes closed with a beautiful expression on his face of pure bliss.

I come closer to his face, and kiss his nose, then the side of his cheek. He held me so close, eye to eye “are you close baby?” he asks and I nod frantically;

“Use your words, beautiful” he asks, and slows his pace just enough to make me whine in fear of coming down from my high again; “Tell me what is it you need, Y/N, I want to hear your sweet voice say it” this time he asked this question, it was more needy than before, more ragged and rawer, but oh so gentle.

“I want to come,” I gasped. “Please—” eyes teary and looking at his directly with plea and pure desire.

That was all he needed.

His pace became relentless, and I finally shattered beneath him, I never came this close to death from pure sexual ecstasy.

He followed soon after, and made painfully sexy loud groan that made my insides clench around him, milking him in till I was sure he filled up every inch of me.

Our breathing was uneven, the last traces of warmth fading into something calmer. He steadied me first, adjusting his belt, then smoothing my clothes back into place with careful hands, as if restoring something precious rather than simply fixing fabric.

Before I could fully gather myself, he lifted me effortlessly.

“You carry me around an awful lot,” I murmured, resting my head against his shoulder.

“You seem to require it,” he replied evenly.

“That sounds suspiciously like blame.”

“It sounds like observation.”

He carried me up the stairs and into a dim room washed in soft red and violet light. My eyes adjusted slowly, taking in the dozens of flower pots lining the walls. The most promising ones were Orchids, Fuchsia pink, delicate, and luminous against the dark. They felt impossibly fragile, thriving only under controlled light.

Like me; I couldn’t help but feel seen.

He set me down on a wide wooden table beneath a wash of golden and purple glow. The room smelled faintly of water and petals.

“Lie back,” he said in a calm tone.

He prepared warm water, testing it before the cloth touched my skin. The same hands that had been firm were now patient, tracing careful paths as he cleaned me, while leaving soft kisses on each spot.

I watched him from beneath my lashes, a small smile tugging at my mouth.

“You’re very serious about this,” I said.

“I am serious about everything”

“That’s not true,” I countered softly. “You looked very unserious a few minutes ago.”

One of his brows lifted slightly — the closest he ever came to looking flustered.

“You’re mistaken.”

I laughed quietly. “Mm. If you say so.”

He wrung out the cloth, composed as ever. “You seem pleased.”

“I am,” I admitted without hesitation.

A pause.

“Good,” he said simply.

I reached out and lightly tugged at the sleeve of his shirt before he could step away. “You know,” I added, smiling up at him, “for someone so strict, you’re surprisingly gentle.”

His expression softened almost imperceptibly.

“Only when necessary.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

I studied him for a moment, then nodded as if accepting a verdict. “Then I suppose I’ll have to keep being necessary.”

The faintest hint of amusement crossed his face.

“Careful,” he warned quietly. I tilted my head. “Or what?”

His gaze lingered on me for a second longer than necessary, that steady, unreadable look that always made my stomach flip.

“Or you may find yourself tested again,”

I felt the heat rise to my cheeks — but I didn’t look away this time.

“That sounds less like a warning, and more like a promise.”

He let out the softest breath of a laugh, “You’re becoming bold,” he observed.

“Occupational hazard,” I replied. “I learn from my employer.”

He shook his head slightly, reaching to brush a stray strand of hair from my face — a simple, absent gesture that felt more intimate than anything else.

He then looks at me; his eyes filled with admiration and something else that made me weak all over again. “What do you say for a dinner tonight, me and you” he asks, and I smile, this time happiness clouding my expression.

“Are you asking me out, mister Higuruma? so unprofessional” I tease, he lets out a cute laugh.

“Well, nothing of what happened here was professional dear, might as well take the chance” his hand lingered on my cheek caressing it delicately. “So, is it a, yes?”

STEP ON ME

summary: hiromi really loves it when you wear heels. warnings: 18+, MDNI, oral (f!receiving), high heel fetish on hiromi’s part, he loves when you’re a little bit mean, he also loves when you step on him a/n: my entry for PUSSYWHIPPED. art by @/ayushinz.

Men like Higuruma are supposed to be in control. On top. Always asserting their dominance, not giving any ground.

It's one of the first things his mentors taught him: never let anyone walk all over you. He can't explain why he lets you do just that. Metaphorically, of course, but also functionally. The sting that pricks his skin every time the sharp point of your high heel digs into him sends chills down his spine and makes his dick throb under his slacks.

He doesn't have a foot fetish. At least he doesn't think so. There's just something about the way your legs look when you wear heels that fucks up his brain. When you pair them with a tight pencil skirt that would be enough to get you written up in any other work place, he's a gone man.

Hiromi is so hopeless, in fact, that the second Shimizu heads out of the office for her lunch break, he's on his knees in front of you. His big, warm palms smoothing up the outside of your thighs as he traces the way they curve into your hips.

"You're torturing me on purpose," he accuses.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Your response is dry. You've barely paid attention to him all day. Even now, your gaze is fixated on your computer as opposed to the pathetically desperate man kneeling at your feet.

"Don't ignore me, my love," he murmurs, sliding a hand up your inner thigh.

I find the fallen Peter Griffin pose really funny

twitter dump 5 (nsfw warning under the cut!) a couple of these are forgotten favorites of mine