Work Romance. — Hiromi Higuruma
IF ANY OF THE FOLLOWING BOTHER YOU SCROLL!!
⚠︎︎NSFW !! 18+ !! GENTLE DOM !! BLACK READER !! SOFT SMUTT !! ⚠︎︎
This was created May 1st, part two will most likely take time.
It was another late night at the law firm, it’d just started raining outside around an hour ago. The lights above that stretched all down the cold and silent halls were slightly dim. The only noise that could be heard being the sound of your Christian Louboutin’s hitting the floor and the rain hitting hard surfaces outside.
You held a stack of papers and a cup of hot coffee, for Hiromi. You often did things like that for him—bring him things to help him relax when he was very clearly stressed out, which you knew he was since he was staying late, again. you were his secretary after all. Though most of the time you did things like this without him asking, and the both of you knew the things you'd do for him weren't exactly apart of your job description.
As you stepped onto the elevator and it began closing—your mind wondered off to how he’d probably scold you for staying late—but you knew you had to, so he wouldn’t get fixated on work, and because you knew. You knew how empty and lonely it could be staying in the law firm at night, how cold it got, how silence felt suffocating after to long.
You had a feeling it helped him out. And though you didn’t know—you staying stopped him from hyper fixating on his work, when you were around he had to worry about you not being to tired, about your physical wellbeing, he could never fully focus when you were around.
Whether it be because of how breathtaking you were with your soft, rich, beautiful brown skin, those pretty lips he imagined kissing down his throat—or wrapped around his dick, those pretty eyes that he imagined were full of tears while his tip kissed the back of your throat. All while pumping himself into his own hand after hours.
And don’t get him started on your coily hair you wore so well, the same hair he imagined in his grip as he fucked you from behind. Your back arched, his hands trailing down your sides as he whispered in your ears about how good you looked taking him.
About how pretty you were when you choked out a sob, when you whined about how it hurt so good. None of that mattered though, because as much as he wanted to be fucking you dumb, as much as he wanted to hold you after making you scream his name, as much as he wanted it to be real—it couldn’t be. It was simply a bitter sweet reality. You were great at your job, he liked having you around and giving into sexual fantasies would be unprofessional in more ways than just one.
And when you smiled at him from across the room? He felt like time itself paused, he swallowed that feeling—he had to—he didn’t smile back—just gave his lingering gaze. And when you made subtle flirty jokes in the elevator he didn’t smile, though he wanted to, he didn’t. Because he didn’t want to cross that line, even if you wanted him to silently.
The elevator dinged and you stepped off and pushed open the door to his office with your hip—and there he sat. In his office chair, shoulders tense and slumped, a frown on his lips and his eyebrows knitted together in frustration. The room smelt like cigarette smoke.
When he heard the door open he lifted his gaze, his eyes narrowing when he saw it was you. “Y/n, thought I asked you to go home?” You turned and gently pushed the door close behind you ignoring his words, you gave a small smile as you approached the desk, you noticed he had a cup of raspberry red wine on his desk.
“Mr Higuruma, with all due respect if I want to stay, I’ll stay.” You whispered teasingly, he shook his head at you, like you were a child refusing bedtime. You shivered as you felt cold air sweep at your exposed legs, Hiromi catches on to it quicker than you expected. “You’re cold.” He pointed out while lifting up and taking off his office jacket, he stood before you could protest and he placed the jacket over your shoulders and sat down.
“thank you.. but won’t you be cold? I turned the heat down on my way up, I’ll be fine.” You assured reaching to take off the jacket that reeked of his delicious cologne, it filled your nostrils thoroughly and just before you could pull it off, he shook his head. “Well if you turned the heat up it shouldn’t be a problem, I’ll be fine, I was hot anyways.” He assured just before he extended his hand out and gestured to the seat across from him.
“Don’t just stand there, take a seat.” That was pretty much all it took for you to sit. It didn't take time for an conversation between the two of you to spark. Mostly about work, but things took a dangerously intimate turn when the two of you began talking about marriage.
"I mean surely you know how married life is, hm?" a subtle tease, because as stated before, he knew better than to flirt with you. He observed, the surprise on your face, the smile that graced your lips. "Pftt, me? married? Very funny Mr Higuruma." you whispered while leaning forward. "I don't know what could've possibly gave you that idea."
Hiromi raised an eyebrow in response. "Really? I guess I just thought—y'know you're a beautiful woman and you're smart so I assumed.." he trailed off before lowering his head, twirling the pen in his hand ever so slightly. The air had gotten a bit more thick, with tension.
"Well, thank you.. but nope! no husband for me.. and you?" a long pause. "Are you married? dating? surely whoever the lucky woman is misses you." you had an habit of rambling when you got nervous.your hands fisted the bottom of your skirt as silence settled but his gaze on you never left.
And then finally, he spoke: "No, no wife, no girlfriend, just me—Mrs Y/ln." the way your last name rolled off of his tongue always made you shift, it made you wonder what else his tongue could do. You swallowed, hard, and he caught that just as he caught everything else from the moment you'd walked in.
He cleared his throat and looked down at his expensive watch. "It's late." he pointed out. Any other time you'd listen, you'd grab your bag off of the nearby chair, and leave his office. But all you could think about was..
how good it would feel to be full of him. To taste him.
So, you didn't move. You raised your gaze to his. He met your gaze head on. "Do you have a way back to your house? If not I can drive you." His second kind attempt of telling you that it was time for you to go. "Hiromi.. I don't want to go home." the words were whispered, soft, breathless. His jaw clenched at the soft whisper, he slowly closed his eyes.
Silence, silence as he gathered himself, as he tried to hide the fact that the way you looked at him while no one else was watching—the way his name rolled off of your tongue didn't make him as hard as an brick. he swallowed softly and slowly opened his eyes, they traveled up from his desk to your face, to your lips, to your eyes.. and settled on you.
You felt frozen under his gaze, you furrowed your brows, your need evident in every move you made. And god did that make him want to fuck you over the very desk that separated the two of you, maybe even right in front of the big, wide, and tall window behind his desk, so he could see that pretty face of yours in it's reflection while he filled you up, over and over again.
His hand balled up into a fist. "Y/n.." he trailed off, trying to find his professionalism in the mist of the tension. you tilted your head, a curl fell In Front of your face, framing it. "Sir?" an audible growl tore from his throat as his head fell back and his hands fell into his lap.
He caught his breath and lowered his head again, he missed your gaze. "Stop this, go home." In response you frowned. "Hiromi, tell me you've never thought about us and i'll leave. I'll grab my bag and get in the nearest taxi, but you have to tell me you haven't thought about your hands trailing up my thighs.. between them even." and as you stood he scoffed and shook his head no. Honestly It was like your legs were moving on their own.
"My hands.. Between.." he whispered in disbelief and let out a breath, not quite a laugh, you'd already made your way behind his desk by now, your hand hovering over his chest—not touching it just yet.
"Y/n, I've thought about things beyond your pretty little imagination, this very desk—" he trailed off, his hands gently sliding across the desk like he was reminiscing about moments that hadn't even happened.
"I've thought about things your innocent little mind couldn't even comprehend." he whispered as if he hated the fact that he even had those thoughts about a woman as pretty as you. The confirmation eased your nerves, your hand trailed down his chest and slowly slipped on top of the bulge that sat under his pants. he whimpered—audibly whimpered.
"So help me.. help me comprehend, Mr Higuruma."
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I'm a bit rusty with my writing, FORGIVE ME!
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Part 2/2: sex in his office.
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