initially, you refuse to admit it, though your fascination slips past the aisle of your thoughts and starts to form in the rhythmic way you tread your fingers through his golden hair, eventually conceding as you comment. “you hair is so soft.”
tsukishima kei hums, eyes shut as he lay on your chest, feeling his scalp being massaged gently as you untangle the tensions.
“you sleepy?”
“yeah. sorry.”
“don’t be, get some rest.” you say, eliciting a yawn from him.
“is it normal to feel sleepy around your partner?”
“i guess so, heard they can regulate your nervous system or something.”
“you stress me out sometimes.”
you raise a brow, pausing your ministrations, eager to tease and be teased. “okay, and?"
“you love to ragebait me.”
“so do you?”
you see the wrinkling of his brow first before the purse of his lips, almost as if he's pouting. "it's not my fault, you're too easy anyway. and who said you could stop?"
you hum this time, fingers stayed put. "stop what?"
with his eyes closed and a scoff, his expression twists even more into something close to hesitation, "i see you, wipe that grin off your face."
"dunno what you're talking about, darling."
you like to think he's refusing to admit to the fact that he likes being teased by you—no, you're certain. you know him just as much.
long and sluggish arms snuggle your figure, he kicks off the blanket from his waist to reveal the expanse of his broad chest and exposing his calf down, only wearing boxers while the rain pours with intermittent strength. he mumbles against your chest, lips kissing the midline of your torso where the sternum protrudes, you feel his body sharing warmth, engulfing you whole.
then, he mutters, "please."
"please, what?"
he lifts his head to look at you, glasses left aside on your nightstand. his eyes are mellowed out so much you can't take his annoying expression seriously, holding your stare for a short minute, before succumbing to his fate, a subject to your whims. "please massage my hair like that."
"wasn't so hard now, was it?"
he can only dignify with a low groan. sighing when you finally continue to stroke his hair. "thank you."
"don't mention it."
you know you could stay like this forever, even when your blanket is strewn on the floor, or his weight on top of you, or how he becomes softer against the steady pulse of the rain. you wouldn't trade it for the world.
and in the way he sinks heavier against you, you know he wouldn't either.
CW !! - perv!toji, he’s also your knight TEEHEE, some parts of this arent accurate so i both apologize and don’t really care, suggestiveness, age gap (around 10 years), royal au ofc, perving calls for panties!!!, masturbation, panty stealing, sniffing, (implied) jerking, you name it, somnophilia kinda?, f!receiving oral, lowkey a pos but wtv, sexting but with letters, nsfw
TAGLIST 🏷️ - @prome911 @sirensorestic @rmmazz
A/N !! - for my big cuzzo lia bia (i lob u)
PERV!TOJI who’s worked under your family’s rule longer than you’ve been alive, but wasn’t aware of your existence until last year when your parents went all out for your debutante, and there you were, dressed to the nines in a beautiful creamy white dress, diamonds and jewels plucked from the deepest parts of the ground and pearls that have been shined beyond description. It was then where he popped one and could slowly feel himself leaking a similar color to that of your pearls.
PERV!TOJI who, since then, took a rather concerning liking to you. suddenly at your every blind spot and in your shadow like there was nowhere else he had to be.
“shouldn’t you be manning the training grounds?” you asked with a small glare in your eyes.
“not today, princess.” he’d lie, and it was then a young knight turned the corner, fear and desperation on his face.
“fushiguro…” he’d huff, taking a minute to catch his breath. “the captain’s looking for you!”
PERV!TOJI who finds every excuse in the kingdom to be by your side, even when he doesn’t have permission to. but when he does… you’re in for it, because he’s constantly breathing down your neck with how close he gets—never backing down when you push and swat at him like a flea, which inherently only turns him on more.
“toji! let me dine in peace!” you use your elbow to put some distance between you two, but with his stature and build, it’s almost like you did nothing at all.
toji chuckles and a dirty smirk creeps on his stupidly attractive face. “‘m keepin’ an eye on you, daddy’s rules, sweetheart.”
PERV!TOJI who, since being at your side a lot more, has become addicted to your scent. Your fragrance being one of the few things that gives him the energy to get up and do something productive. When he’s walking behind you, he catches the perfect whiff of your royally floral scent, a mix of roses and peonies dancing upon the flush of royal powder that the maids dapped upon your collarbone and neck.
When PERV!TOJI leans in to breathe in your scent, it hardly phases you anymore since you’ve long given up on pushing him away, however, the contrast of his musk overriding your sense of smell is what gets you going. He smells of dirt, sweat, and oddly enough, timber, and if his nose just so happens to brush you, you jump, flush hot, and command he stops, knowing he never will.
PERV!TOJI who’s progressively becoming more obvious in his odd behavior, which you don’t pinpoint it as so until you find him lurking around in your chambers one afternoon, specifically near your wardrobe.
“have you no dignity?” you chide, your annoyance and embarrassment fighting for dominance in your voice.
“whatever do you mean? i was jus’ scannin’ the room, princess.” he quips smoothly, and honestly got to the point where you weren’t sure if he was addressing you by your title, or by petname…
“if by ‘scanning’ you mean disrespecting my privacy, then yes!”
“guilty.” he’d grin, moreso at your attempts of getting him out the room.
PERV!TOJI, even after scoldings, would still show up in your room, but this time, more secretive. how do you know? because your undergarments suspiciously begin to disappear when the spring subsides and summer arrives as the temperatures rise (bars.) yet everytime you ask him, he gives you a gruff “nope.” and turns his back to you knowing he’s got around two pairs of your lace underwear hidden within the crevices of his armor.
PERV!TOJI who, when returning your undies, always left a big mess in them, their condition varying between globs of precum, sometimes still warm from his use, drenched in his scent, dried reminiscences of his tongue, it was so gross! and there was nothing you could do about it because it would raise suspicion, as if asking the maids to wash your own clothes wasn’t concern enough.
in the late nights of the palace, when all the lights are out and the sun dives down, PERV!TOJI is assigned to keep watch over your chambers, something about you rebelling against your court advisors and needing to be punished. and as soon as he ensures no other guard’s route passes by his, he slips through the doors and the quiet of the night is disturbed by faint shlick! shlick! shlick!’s behind the door. the sound coming from the wetness of your clothes that toji burried himself in.
you wriggled and writhed, a little disturbed that he snuck in, but with how much he was teasing you, you weren’t sure you wanted him to stop, let alone leave. he exhales on your skin, this thick cock pushing between the combination of the both of your messes, chuckling when you let out a tiny whimper. “fushigu—” he then pulls your garment aside and slaps his top against your clit, urging you to scream but a large hand comes up to your mouth to stop it. “it’s toji to you, doll.” he huffs as he ruts against your lips yet again.
just like PERV!TOJI couldn’t get enough of you, you couldn’t get enough of him (though in a less perverted sense). when he’d begin touching you the moment eyes were not on you, though not far, such as when you were taking the carriage to a dinner with a neighboring family and he slipped his hand just beneath your dress to play with your clit, and you’d grunt out for him to cease and he never would unto you creamed on his thick digits.
but in turn, you’d storm into a meeting the knights were having, everyone bowing in your presence as your heels clacked on the floors, stopping just ahead of toji. “might i borrow this degenerate, sire?” you demean him in front of his superiors, inferiors—everyone practically. “o-of course, your highness..”
little did they know toji wasn’t in for a scolding, rather assisting you in relieving the hot feeling in your abdomen that you on your own couldn’t quench.
you have him on his knees, similar to that as when he took his oath, kitten licking your cunt as you guide him through your journey to seeing pleasure. “pretty princess taking her knight’s tongue so fuckin’ well…” his burning muscle is hot against your bud, eventually pocketing his lips to suck and encase it.
“hah… right—there, toji…” the sensation is enough to push his head closer, your airy moans motivating him to proceed in this so called “punishment.”
PERV!TOJI who promises he’ll be good when you’re in the middle of your nightly routine, but the very moment the maids alert him of you in the middle of your bath, his thoughts wonder and his slacks tighten. he strategically gets them to leave your side by causing a ruckus in the kitchen, and informing them that it needed to be clean, and as soon as they’re gone, he frees himself from the confines of the uniform and watches you bathe through the crack of the door.
his cock heavy and his balls heavier as he drags his rough hand up and down his shaft, wondering just how soft your skin would be after leaving the perfectly curated bath that was ran for you, how wet your cunt skin would be if he were to take you right then and there.
PERV!TOJI who can only imagine what you’d feel like taking his cock, stripping you clean of your innocence that he believes no prince deserves the luxury of having. so he claims you in others ways such as cumming in your panties when you decide to mouth off to him about him doing exactly that because you can’t walk around with his seed between your legs.
whenever PERV!TOJI leaves with the knights on a mission, he sends you letters under an anonymous title, detailing how much he misses so and even going so far as to leave a specific scent and odd stain that you can’t quite nail on the letter. only to realize it’s his own sweat and cum on the paper, when you flip to the back and read ‘p.s. This was written with one hand ;).’ and you were tempted to burn it if the sentiment wasn’t admirable.
nanami always adored dinner dates—they were an excuse to have you all dolled up and pretty, with him sitting across the table in his crisp suit, with candles adoring the middle of the table while your face was lit in the pretty moonlight.
ever the gentleman that he is, he always refused to let you pay, fighting you for the check to near violence, because having you in his presence is just enough for him. and treating you to good food is something that he wants to do for you, watching the way your eyes light up when you eat a dish you enjoy is enough to have him drop his entire wallet at your every beck and call.
this little setback didn’t stop you from having your own fun, of course.
right as the waiter dropped the bill at your table, nanami’s taking out his wallet—you’ve given up fighting him for the bill now, the moment you clutch your own purse, zipping it open to fish around it, seemingly to look for you own wallet has nanami pouting like a child for a. moment.
“my love, what on earth are you doing?” he questions, right before you grab what looked like lipgloss and a handful of seashells before setting it down on the table.
“im helping you pay the bill, of course.”
your face was stoic, almost dead serious, with the container of lipgloss and three pretty shells that rested before you.
“will this not cover it?” you say before setting down mermaid shells, and the tiniest jar of glitter on the table before you tilted your head in confusion while staring right into his eyes.
he tries to be serious for a second—he’s used to your antics by now, but something about the way you’re eyeing him while your collection rests next your purse is barely holding him back from bursting into a fit of giggles.
merely seconds later nanami’s snickering, trying to cover his face with his hands while you let out a soft giggle, watching his face tinge in pink while he slowly laughs at your previously dead serious expression while you set down trinkets on the table like a cat.
“gods, i’m gonna marry you some day.” is all he says, before paying the bill and setting it aside, all the while you can see the dimples crease his face at your stupid joke.
“if this was all it took, i would’ve started doing it ages ago.”
old fic i kinda liked idk. @yoonsucks @sugusplaything
dividers: @/pixopix .
all works belong to @lilithkleia, do NOT copy, translate or feed to AI. lest you wish upon toji’s worm to crawl up your ass.
SYP - do you ever feel like you don’t belong in the world? sabotaged by the circumstances in which the world prioritizes others more than you? forced, since birth, to work twice as hard to be atop the same pedestal as those who were born with privilege and silver spoons in their mouths. fortunately for you, love has always come easy! for you, dear reader, your favorite JJK men in royal au’s!
RULES - drop reqs/asks of the following men for a piece of work!! the same rules for asks still apply, so pls refer to these to know what is and isn’t allowed. make sure to specify if you want a different type of version ex. prince!char, king!char, etc. occasionally i will also drop my own non-reqs as well! feel free to ask questions as well :)
boyf!sugu who eats pussy from tha back!munch alert!
────────── ₊˚ʚ ݁.☘︎ ݁˖˚݁.
he’d never tell you, but it's his favorite. not because of your cuddly ass tooted high in the air or your higher pitched moans, but because of how sensitive yet helpless you were in this position.
nobody ever ate you out as paramount as sugu could. let alone from the back. lying on his bed on your tummy, with one of his smaller pillows tucked underneath your pelvis was how he found you.
and that was more than enough of an invitation.
you were attentive to your switch lite and negligent to your boyfriend unbeknownst, not paying any mind to the daggers suguru had been throwing your way.
and suguru didn't like that one bit.
so he lifted your hips, a shocked gasp tumbling past your lips as he forced you on your knees the slightest, tugging both layers down and off of your body.
you turned, lips parting to speak but suguru didn't have time. "play y'r game, baby.." was the only thing he said as the cool sensation from his silver rings tickled your lower back.
he constrained you into a mean arch, humming to himself as the aroma of your sweet yet peppery slick invaded his airways.
sculpted nose fondly nudging your swelling clit, lips tender pecking the nub a few times. suguru was never the one to rush. especially with you.
but he despised people who played with their food. or maybe suguru was just a sucker. for the position and for you.
seeing how flustered you got was everything to him. it started from nothing. it always did, thats what made it better.
he didn't know if you started to do it on purpose or if you genuinely had no clue what you were doing. and he was sssoooo messy with it too.
blowing thick bubbles of spit and slick into your dripping cunt, pulling back to watch how it fell from you, your thighs, his cheeks, chin, the dull bedding beneath you. everywhere.
his warm, silky, multi-pierced tongue seeming to try n give your poor clit friction burn with how he was rubbing, grinding, licking, tapping, sucking, buzzing against you.
there was never a need for a sex toy, and suguru made sure you knew that. "mmmmmmnnn.." he hummed lowly, rhythmically rocking your hips back into his mouth.
his nose prodding against your weeping cunt as he lapped against your mound. the vibration from his sexy groans combined with the desperate sucking, you weren't lasting long at all.
his eyes were shut, eyebrows tensing the same way they did when he was deep in thought. he was so far in concentration, his mouth moving against you purely from muscle memory.
and you weren't even moaning real words. just incoherent babbles and cries, tremors and convulsions coursing throughout your body.
so close yet far to tipping over the edge. a single finger rubbed against your lips, your jaw slackening as he pushed that long, thicker finger deep into you.
the second finger quick in pursuit, scissoring your hot, pulsating carved walls. his fingertips curled up into your g-spot, making sure to pull out all the way before stuffing you full again.
his lips abraded at your beating clit, sucking on you as if you were his personal pacifier. his free hand needed at the fat of your ass, spreading you open to his liking.
“baby ..” you whined, when he pulled out yet relishing at the spit-ball that hit your forbidden hole with such force, slowly sliding down you cunt.
you were right there too, sugu knew. he watch as it traveled down, dipping his thumb in you before pulling it out to rub from your ass to your clit.
a small "mmh.." audible, your eyes slowly blinking shut, hips twisting side to side. his fingers found your sopping cunny, sweetly fucking you the way you liked.
his thumb soothed your clit, his pierced ridden tongue dipping into tight ass. a small squeal like moan escape from within you, body surrendering to the pleasure as he kept stroking and massaging at the hole.
he felt your walls pulse around him a few times, another long groan falling from his parted, working mouth.
your jaw was disengaged, drool seeping into the sheet and with a few more pumps your back was fighting the arch, orgasm teetering over you.
and sugu kept you there, still and compliant. fingers and mouth still fucking you through every last bit of it with the same, consistent pace. now, you’ll definitely making sure to stay bent ova for him.
you’d been married for two years to a man who spent more time at the office than he did with you. big house, shiny ring, empty bed. the kind of lonely that settled deep in your chest and made every quiet afternoon feel endless. your husband had just hired the new pool boy—toji fushiguro, ex-con with a body carved from pure trouble and a stare that made your thighs clench.
the first time you saw him shirtless, sweat sliding down the hard planes of his abs and those thick, scarred pecs, you couldn’t look away. he caught you staring from the kitchen window and smirked like he already knew exactly how wet you were. for two weeks you played this game—bringing him cold drinks in tiny sundresses, bending over slowly, letting the hem ride up your thighs while he worked. he never said much, but his eyes said everything.
your husband left for a three-day business trip that morning. he kissed your cheek quickly and told you not to wait up. the second his car disappeared down the driveway, you changed into the skimpiest white bikini you owned, the one that barely covered anything.
toji was already there when you stepped outside, muscles flexing as he hauled equipment. he straightened up slowly, green eyes dragging over your barely-covered body like he wanted to devour you.
“pool looks good,” you said softly, handing him a fresh towel.
“yeah?” his voice was low and rough. “your husband payin’ me to clean the water… or to keep his pretty little wife entertained while he’s gone playin’ big shot?”
heat flooded through you. you stepped closer, letting your fingers brush over his sweaty chest. “maybe both.”
that was all it took.
toji grabbed your waist and yanked you flush against him, mouth crashing down on yours in a filthy, hungry kiss. his tongue pushed past your lips like he owned you, big hands squeezing your ass hard as he ground his already-hard cock against your stomach. he tasted like salt and smoke and pure sin.
“been eyein’ this married pussy since day one,” he growled against your neck, biting down hard enough to leave a mark. “husband not fuckin’ you right, huh? that’s why you’re out here drippin’ for the help.”
he shoved your bikini top down roughly, exposing your tits to the open air. his mouth latched onto one nipple, sucking hard while his teeth grazed the sensitive bud. two thick fingers shoved your bikini bottoms aside and sank straight into your dripping cunt without warning, curling instantly against that spot that made your knees buckle.
“fuck, so wet,” he laughed darkly, pumping his fingers faster, adding a third and stretching you open. his thumb rubbed rough circles on your clit until your legs shook. you came hard on his hand within minutes, moaning loudly as your pussy clenched and gushed around his fingers.
but toji wasn’t done. he spun you around and bent you over the outdoor couch, yanking your bottoms down to your ankles. you heard him free his cock before he rubbed the fat head along your slick folds.
“gonna ruin this tight little hole,” he grunted, then thrust in deep in one brutal stroke.
you cried out at the stretch. he was so fucking big, splitting you open wider than your husband ever had. toji didn’t give you time to adjust. he started pounding into you hard and fast, hips slamming against your ass with loud, wet slaps that echoed across the backyard. every thrust knocked the breath out of you, his heavy balls smacking against your clit.
“take it. take every fuckin’ inch,” he groaned, one hand fisting your hair while the other smacked your ass red. “this what you’ve been creamin’ over every time i’m out here sweatin’? your husband’s tiny dick can’t reach this deep, can it?”
you moaned louder, pushing back to meet his thrusts. he fucked you like that for what felt like forever, switching angles until he was grinding right against your g-spot. you came again with a broken sob, pussy fluttering wildly around his thick cock, but he just kept railing you through it, hips never slowing.
he pulled out suddenly, flipped you onto your back on the wide lounge chair, and dropped to his knees. his mouth attacked your pussy like a man starved—tongue fucking deep into your hole while two fingers rubbed your clit fast and messy. he sucked on your swollen clit until your back arched and you squirted on his tongue, thighs clamping around his head as you screamed.
“good fuckin’ girl,” he growled, climbing back up and shoving your legs over his shoulders. he folded you in half and slammed back inside, even deeper at this angle. his pace was punishing, cock dragging against every sensitive spot as sweat dripped from his chest onto yours.
“ah—s-so big, toji.”
“gonna fill this cheating cunt,” he panted, eyes wild and dark. “pump you so full of my cum it’ll still be leaking out when your husband gets home.”
he fucked you through another orgasm, then pulled out and made you ride him right there on the grass. his hands bruised your hips as he bucked up wildly, forcing you to take every inch while your tits bounced. you rode him until your thighs burned, coming twice more before he flipped you again.
he took you against the cool glass of the sliding door next, your tits pressed flat to the surface while he railed you from behind. one big hand wrapped around your throat, the other rubbed your overstimulated clit as he ground deep.
“what if he comes home early?” toji taunted, voice rough against your ear. “wants to watch his perfect wife gettin’ destroyed by the pool boy? bet he’d cry seein’ how hard you come on my cock.”
“d-don’t say that—fuck,” you moaned.
you came again just from his filthy words, clenching so tight he groaned and spilled inside you for the first time—thick, hot ropes flooding your pussy. but he didn’t stop. he kept fucking his cum deeper, then pulled out only to push you down onto all fours on the grass and mount you again like an animal.
he fucked you slower this time but just as deep, one hand reaching around to play with your clit while he ground against your ass. you lost count of how many times you came—everything blurred into wet, obscene sounds. his low grunts, your hoarse moans, and the constant slap of skin on skin.
by the time the sun started to set, you were shaking, covered in bite marks, bruises on your hips and ass, voice completely wrecked. cum leaked down your thighs in messy streams.
toji carried you inside like you weighed nothing and bent you over the kitchen island for one last round. this time he went slower, almost teasing, dragging his thick cock in and out while whispering filthy praise against your ear.
“this ain’t a one-time thing,” he murmured, grinding deep. “you text me whenever that limp-dick husband leaves the house. i’ll come take care of more than just the pool. this pussy belongs to me now.”
he kissed your shoulder almost gently as he came again, flooding you with another load before finally pulling out. he watched with dark satisfaction as his cum dripped down your legs onto the floor.
“same time tomorrow?” he asked, tucking himself back into his shorts with that signature smirk.
you could only nod weakly, already aching for more.
❤︎ finally back after ap exams! who’s ready for my active summer eraaaa
⋆.𐙚 ̊ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: suggestive, clingy sugu, fluff, implied size kink but nothing too explicit.
⋆.𐙚 ̊ 𝑎/𝑛: :3
╭──────༺♡༻──────╮
Like just imagine Suguru just climbing in bed and just laying on top of you. He’ll smother you under his crushing weight and cuddle you. He’s a clingy one when he’s comfortable. “Suguruu..can’t move..” you try to wiggle your body from under him struggling to budge your torso. “Mmmh..” he pouts and kisses your cheek. He was a big man and with his size he loves to envelop you into his embrace, whether if your hugging or cuddling. “Please stay..” he mumbles in your hair. You sigh then reluctantly agree. “Fine..” you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it—it was so cute when he’s like this. To others he’s a crazy and dangerous cult leader, but here in your space he’s clingy and touchy. He just needs to be close to you! Just let him be in your personal space! He’ll spoil you with praise and kisses. He wants to keep you under him in his arms. It feels safe for you but also fuels your size kink that goes unsaid. He’s like a weighted blanket over you. He wants to be in your skin. Just let him have his fun okay? He’ll die of no affection if he isn’t within 6 feet of you.
“infinity greater than the universe, oh you, you’re my best friend…”
content warning !! - rockstar!timeskipsemi, blackfem!reader, children bc apparently mfs hate kids now???, fluffy, one mention of a nude but no nsfw, your daughter is around 6-7 (if u say it ur getting blocked.)
a/n - this is like a year old LMAOAOAO
Sat at your desk, you push back a few inches to stretch. Original plans were to spend what little time you could with your husband, but duty calls and your boss called you late last night which your hubby wasn't too happy about. You were almost late with him, a grown ass man, and your daughter clinging onto your legs begging you not to leave but with enough force and a stern voice you got them to behave themselves as you walked out the door. Semi sighed and your daughter, Souma, frowned at your departure.
When watching the hands on the clock, each tick! of the clock seems to be at a greater distsnce than the last. You want so bad to just sit in silence and let the blue screen of your computer stare at you, but it seems like someone needs something at every available minute.
Intern needs help running the copier, your (older) coworker needs help bcc’ing a client, trainees need… well to be trained, and your boss is the cherry on top when calling for you over the littlest things like checking if you’ve sent your briefings or minutes for your departments meeting.
All this happens in the span of three hours, but when you look at the laughing clock, it’d only been around one. A heavy groan comes out of you as you plop back into your chair, annoyed and exhausted. You sit in silence for about thirty seconds before a Ping! erupts from what you thought was your computer, when you look in the corner, nothing popped up.
Your eyes flitted around the screen in search of a (1), a red circle, or the number of emails going up in your tabs, and yet nothing appeared. Another Ping! is what makes you realize it’s coming from your phone, making you more annoyed because it couldn’t have been anyone else other than your husband who you’ve repeatedly told not to text you at work unless it was important.
Semi Poo
Miss you :(
2 Video Attachments
If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought it was a nude or video of him doing god knows what. But instead, you saw him and Souma in the thumbnail, him behind her holding his acoustic.
The camera initially shakes as he tries to prop it up, supposedly against some object in the living room. “Okay… hold on—Souma stop moving real quick.” “Sorry.” “Alright… there! Okay. You ready?” He glances at your daughter who looks scared out of her mind. “What’s wrong, babygirl?” She pouts and turns to him, hands joined together. “I’m scared… I don’t wanna mess up.” “You won’t, I promise. Do you wanna go over it again?” “Yes please.” And finally a sigh drags out of Semi, reaching for the camera and ending the recording.
You let out a chuckle, starting the next video where they both seemed a lot more prepared. “You ready?” And the little girl nods her head, her fingers slightly trembling possibly due to the weight of the guitar. Slowly, she lets her other hand’s fingers glide across the strings, a low tone playing that comes to an abrupt stop. Souma whips her head around, frowning at her dad who pats her back. “It’s okay, keep going.” And she does, her little fingers continuing to strum the strings, an occasional note being out of tune that she always looks back at Semi to help her correct it.
He watches with a proud smile on his face, and you can tell he doesn’t see your little girl like that anymore. He still imagines the two year old begging for her own little guitar and the three year old who’d pretend like she was daddy when Semi was out for a gig. The beautiful number she played lasted about a minute before she stopped, looking back at her Dad who clapped and encased her in a big hug. “Now say Bye Bye to Mommy.” He points at the camera proudly.
“Bye Mommy, We miss you and… I hope you like it.” Souma stumbles over her words a little. “See ya when you get home, Mama. Sorry to bother you.” Both him and your daughter blow a kiss to the camera, the footage ending and a warm feeling beginning in your chest.
it's already established hiromi would love an androgynous partner.
so he would totally adore having a transmasc partner.
not in the performative “i don’t care what you are” kind of way people say when they’re trying too hard to sound accepting either.
he would understand you specifically.
the quiet complexity that comes with carving masculinity out for yourself instead of simply inheriting it.
because hiromi understands what it means to exist under expectations that were never built with you in mind.
so why would he expect you to exit under unlivable standards he doesn't even hold himself to?
he is the type of man to sit and read up on what it means to be transmasculine, how you his partner fit under that umbrella and if there was anything he could do better to make you more comfortable in your own skin of course!
he appreciates how you follow your own path, your own identity and own righteousness even if you just started dressing more masculine, even wearing a suit instead of the usual pantsuit you usually adorned.
he's the type to not say anything just watch you, timidly appear in front of him in a little too loose suit and just hold the door wider for you so you could get going.
you don't know truly what is going on his his mind but when a few days later, on his few days off he takes the time to get you new tailored suits at his favorite shop, dropping his card to pay before you could even blink.
well maybe he did like it a little bit.
hiromi who loves you for you but still needed time to adjust to your new awakening.
not that he distanced himself from you and made you feel isolated.
far from it. the idea settled in his being that he still loved you no matter what revelation about yourself you came to.
he watched you look through the articles of clothing you did not wear anymore, some that you clearly felt were too feminine.
he would ask questions, deliberate about how this effected you and also lightly questioned if you wanted surgery.
hiromi was a quiet man who took the time to realize no matter who you turned out to be, it was just another day for him to learn how to love you properly, who went to therapy with you to understand and even fixed your wardrobe to be comfortable to your style... (yes he did do matching outfits he is corny).
hiromi was the man who made sure to correct anyone who called you his girlfriend and most recently boyfriend, giving you the open flexible title of partner as he flaunted you around.
yorikae
** im sorry it took so long, i wanted to read up more on being transmasc while nonbinary first! i hope this suffices!
it's already established hiromi would love an androgynous partner.
so he would totally adore having a transmasc partner.
not in the performative “i don’t care what you are” kind of way people say when they’re trying too hard to sound accepting either.
he would understand you specifically.
the quiet complexity that comes with carving masculinity out for yourself instead of simply inheriting it.
because hiromi understands what it means to exist under expectations that were never built with you in mind.
so why would he expect you to exit under unlivable standards he doesn't even hold himself to?
he is the type of man to sit and read up on what it means to be transmasculine, how you his partner fit under that umbrella and if there was anything he could do better to make you more comfortable in your own skin of course!
he appreciates how you follow your own path, your own identity and own righteousness even if you just started dressing more masculine, even wearing a suit instead of the usual pantsuit you usually adorned.
he's the type to not say anything just watch you, timidly appear in front of him in a little too loose suit and just hold the door wider for you so you could get going.
you don't know truly what is going on his his mind but when a few days later, on his few days off he takes the time to get you new tailored suits at his favorite shop, dropping his card to pay before you could even blink.
well maybe he did like it a little bit.
hiromi who loves you for you but still needed time to adjust to your new awakening.
not that he distanced himself from you and made you feel isolated.
far from it. the idea settled in his being that he still loved you no matter what revelation about yourself you came to.
he watched you look through the articles of clothing you did not wear anymore, some that you clearly felt were too feminine.
he would ask questions, deliberate about how this effected you and also lightly questioned if you wanted surgery.
hiromi was a quiet man who took the time to realize no matter who you turned out to be, it was just another day for him to learn how to love you properly, who went to therapy with you to understand and even fixed your wardrobe to be comfortable to your style... (yes he did do matching outfits he is corny).
hiromi was the man who made sure to correct anyone who called you his girlfriend and most recently boyfriend, giving you the open flexible title of partner as he flaunted you around.
yorikae
** im sorry it took so long, i wanted to read up more on being transmasc while nonbinary first! i hope this suffices!
content warning !! - blackfem!reader, some form of power kink idk, higu lobs him some wifey, drabble (sawry :/), reader n higu are coworkers :p, leafy’s dogshit knowledge about law, more hair stuff :3, suggestiveness a tad, reader lowkirk rude but its nothing baf
a/n - @laur4a @kldgo i got yall AYE + i got my hair done and i look so femboy
higuruma is the textbook definition of happy wife, happy life. anything you say goes and he hardly puts up a fight with you. if there were pictures in the dictionary, his would be right next to ‘whipped.’
“hiromi higuruma!” your voice rang throughout the office, heels clicking that progressively got louder as you carried on through to your path. higuruma jumped, his colleagues as well as they were in the middle of an alleged important discussion according to his secretary.
“y/n…?” his attention and demeanor shift, no longer focused on whatever case he was working on for the day. “everyone, out.” you command, your french tip pointing towards the door with authority. “ma’am, with all due respect—” “out. now.” you interrupted, already making your way to higuruma who was quick to back you up. “you heard mrs. higuruma, we’ll continue this later.” “but, hiromi, this is urgent!” “it can wait a few minutes.” it’s now his turn to be firm, and the room is cleared within seconds.
he turns to you, a hand resting on the back of your leg. “when were you going to tell me you called for a switch in my case?” his head tilts, confusion adorning him. “i thought i told you?” “if that were the case, i wouldn’t be here, now would i?” higuruma sighs, his free hand taking yours, his thumb caressing your ring.
“honey, calm down. i only did because it was taking up too much of your time, you were never going to finish it.” he didnt mean any harm in it truly, a lot of his colleagues actually hated him due to how much he favored you but turned a blind eye because, well, they were afraid of you. “so you thought handing it over to someone would’ve made the outcome any better? you can’t just switch up on a client like that.” higuruma sighs, leaning back in his chair before pressing a kiss to your hand. “sorry, hun, i’ll call him back later.” you glare at him. “… i’ll do it over my break.”
others on the outside looking in for sure believed that you hated him, and they couldn’t have been more wrong. if you weren’t happy, neither was he, and he made quick work into ensuring that you were nothing but.
on your bi-monthly date night, you both took the day off and got yourself ready early to avoid being late. your dress hugged you well, not too tight, but enough to highlight your curves which your husband was more than glad to admire.
you’re stuck fixing up your curls, arms growing tired from holding themselves up as you worked your way from the top to the bottom. every now and then, you’d drop your hands to your side to give yourself a break, an overly exhausted huff coming straight from your chest before continuing in your hair journey. “you’re doing a lot just for it to be ruined later tonight.” he chortles. “ha ha, very funny. i still wanna look presentable.” it comes out dry, unlike your hair as you scrunch the product into your hair. “cute, but you don’t have to do all that, honey.”
“can you not? i just need to finish my hair and we can go, i feel rushed.” you exhale, finally moving on to the back of your head. “take a breather, mrs. i’m not rushing you, i’m only saying i’d rather we leave the way you are in all your beauty.” you scoff, eyeing him through the mirror you were using. “flattery won’t make me move any faster.”
“darling, let’s take a minute to breathe.” he stands up from his spot in the corner of your shared room, paitently waiting for you to finish dressing up even in height of your wardrobe—salon more like—malfunction. “hiro, if you tell me to breathe one more time, i’m gonna pop the shit out of you.” you huff, still manhandling your hair as you tried to curl it.
“okay, i’m sorry, but you look fine.” that’s when you whip around, mousse in-hand, and blankly stare at him. “y/n, your hair is beautiful the way it is.” and part of him wants to reach out to touch it but instead reaches for your chin to kiss your lips. “thank you, but i’m not leaving until this,” you gesture to your head. “is fixed.”
you turn your back to him yet again, still twirling and curling the hairs. with an amused sigh, he reaches for the bottle of mousse and stands beside you awkwardly. “allow me.” higuruma insists, and takes over in the re-curling of your hair.
the help is always appreciated but higuruma was doing everything but. he’d either pump out too much, take out too big of a chunk of hair, and worst of all, his fingers were too thick to actually have the curl hold. a decompressing sigh rolls from your lips, your initial anger simmering down. “you’re doing it wrong, hiro.” your eyes meet in the mirror, his face scrunched up in concentration that then relaxed at your input. “i am..?” you glance at the clock and the two of you were already running behind, you were supposed to have left around 10 minutes ago to beat traffic but, obviously, that didn’t happen.
higuruma was a punctual person, as were you, and it was bothersome enough that your hair decided not to cooperate. but even then, running minutes behind schedule, he didn’t rush or push you to make haste, he was patient and waited for you. “pull a chair, i’ll walk you through it…” you voiced a lot more carefully, to which he followed her words with ease. taking his time with your hair, every instruction given to him was reciprocated into your scalp to a t.
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