she was the talk of the building. having a quote, unusual relationship with the man himself, hiromi higuruma. though, not proven their looks say so that everyone seems to know.
it's not uncomfortable.
common? yes.
but being bent over the table with hiromi making you read all the typos you have done in a simple client letter— your skirt pulled up in your waist, panty hose and panties down to your knees.
his hand soothing the soft skin, soft hand-print painted skin.
making you learn of your mistakes, just so you wouldn't bury yourself into the void of disappointment.
learning to please yourself and him, rather.
their dynamics? uncommon.
but that's just the talk. who knows if it's real, he wouldn't even look at you anyway.
the office was quiet, almost concentrated on what needed to be done. her fingers rambled in her keyboard, only focusing on the text that should be written in the letter. there comes higuruma — storming through the halls with his suit and slacks flowing as he steps.
her ears can already hear he could be demanding again making her lips escape a quiet sigh.
"where's the letter that I've been requesting?" his tone was firm, standing tall; face slightly distressed from she doesn't know what he is even doing that may cause it. then her fingers stopped working.
"I prioritized the letter for Mr. Nakamichi because you needed it today." she might sound confident and calm but deep inside, she's far more than worried— to please him.
she did it in purpose.
to purposely forget it.
just then, higuruma realized he didn't follow up the letter he urgently needed today. his eyes flickered into something she can't understand. his expression wasn't easily read by anyone anyway.
"efficient. finish that off and write the letter, 5:30 pm I need it in my office." then immediately storms off like nothing happened. she didn't even have time to react knowing how serious this maybe for him.
but she's used to that.
so used.
5:25 pm sharp, her heels clicked into the hallway while her hand held the important paper. not bothering to knock, she opened the door. higuruma was reading an important paper giving no attention with her presence.
she walked into his desk already knowing he wouldn't care.
"the letter," she mentioned but no verbal replies. it was an obvious response so she placed it in his desk, grabbing an envelope from his table-
"if you place that inside the envelope with mistakes." he says without looking at her, seeing his hooked nose from the side— her breathe hitched. her fingers stopped and dropped the envelope, not a single response coming from her.
"are you sure?"
"you can proofread it, sir."
"that's a yes or no question, ms. (l/n)."
then his eyes burned a hole in hers, she blinked.
"yes, sir."
"you may leave."
it's like waiting for a bomb to tick, despite knowing the consequences she can't fucking wait— for him to ring the bell so she can bend over, feel his hands on the very curve of her body. his lips on her ears, earning malicious praises.
it's so fucking wrong, but it's making her feel right.
training her to be perfect. to be sorry for her mistakes, so the next time she will be able to please him.
and every minute is making her feel so anxious. her teeth biting into her lower lip, her pen clicking, and her stilettos hitting the table.
buzz. buzz.
"ms. (l/n)-" that voice of his immediate made her bolt, like she's been anticipating this moment.
it was no surprise that she came immediately, he's aware. too aware.
he learned quickly, the way these typos are made. the forgotten letter, how can she even forget? she might be the most organized person ever, she refused not to please him.
but, now he understands.
she's finding the satisfaction in feeling wrong and him making it right.
he then stood up from his desk, raising the paper between his fingers. seeing her eyes— he knew it. it's like a kid seeing a treat.
"6 typos, 3 wrong grammar, and 2 misuse of marks." he says making her breath heavily. then he gave it to her, standing tall like a damn post making her feel vulnerable.
"sir?"
"ms. (l/n), even a third grader wouldn't make the same mistakes. you're a qualified secretary with a degree." he sighs; disappointment? and she fucking hated that.
she couldn't bring herself to speak, shame? is that it? seeing him like this, enough to make her knees weak. the loose first two buttons of his blouse, wrinkled suit, and his loose tie.
"what is it that you want, (l/n). say it." he spoke firmly, definitely an order.
she feels that strange feeling crawling in her back. it's almost filthy what she's thinking about all day.
she's been so good for a week straight to keep the speculations down.
this is so filthy. her stomach was aching already.
"I'm just going to re-write it, sir." but it's too late, hiromi could already see the shame in her.
"you're never going to survive a trial, are you?" because, she couldn't even answer those questions. simple questions. before she could even turn around and leave like she always does when she's too shy to even speak up, he immediately spoke.
"just tell me."
"is it because of the filthy comments people are saying?"
"hiromi." she says as if wanting to make him keep his voice down.
"you're just going to answer me."
stubborn. individualistic too much?
she sighs, wetting her lower lips trying to keep herself calm. she steps up making their contact so much closer. not knowing how to confess the filth she's been thinking about.
"I-" she exhales, looking away for a moment then back at him— the strand of his hair falling, his hooked nose, and impatient expression. fuck.
"I purposely made the mistake, sir." she says as if confessing a sin.
"so you can punish me." she says now looking away out of shame, so far from what she thinks about earlier.
higuruma didn't respond. it was amusing that she's admitting this right now, very submissive she is. he grins lightly.
she was bent into the desk, the papers slightly crumpled because of her position and weight. her skirt was raised up, revealing her bare ass; her pooled cunt.
"higuruma," she quietly whimpers feeling another strike on her left, causing it to ripple and leave a mark.
"sir." he corrected.
"sir, fuck." she buries her face into the desk feeling the sting within her skin, but the pleasure was building a coil inside of her. feeling the void of her emptiness.
"have you heard what they're saying?" he spoke in her ear, feeling the hot hitch of his breath.
"yes, sir."
another strike.
"have you been listening?"
"no, sir."
another strike.
it didn't matter what they were saying, she learned that because it's the truth. so what if that's the truth? it's shameful but fuck, if this doesn't feel as good as it is.
she loves this, more than she ever cared to admit and hiruguma didn't expect much coming from his, well, very shy secretary.
this feeling, she can't explain it. it's like a million fireworks exploding inside of her when he's around— ever since this, ever since the first time. her body was ultimately submitting, not just sexually but how she acts towards him. that's why she never learned to listen to whoever person talks about them.
"hiromi, fuck." she sobs holding into his hair tightly, feeling the flicker and suction on his lips— devouring that bud and juice, with his fingers pumping in and out merciless.
she's so fucking perfect.
his bulge was feeling packed inside his pants, throbbing and eager to meet hers.
"is this what you want?" his nose was resting between the slit making her feel this certain ecstacy. she fucking love that nose.
"yes, sir. fuck, fuck." she cries grinding purposely, feeling his nose nudge the bud.
he felt a sense of satisfaction.
"im cumming- shit, oh my god!" she cries gripping into his arm tightly, his tongue is absolutely diabolical.
the way her eyes roll in the back of her skull, her thighs rippling as it shakes, and her filthy fucking moans calling out for who knows exist.
he felt that sense of satisfaction, the one he feels when he's winning.
the same euphoria that rushes in his blood when the judge announced his victory.
that feeling he feels when she's trying her best to make him smile every damn day with those treats from the bakery.
he felt way too satisfied.
"you're so good, doll." he whimpers in her ear watching her bounce on his shaft, her pussy swallowing him in so easily yet tightly. his hand on her hips, guiding her through it.
"mhm," she nodded feeling his other hand getting busy on her, his thumb brushing on her lower lip.
"you're smart, hm?" he says referring to the fact she's making mistakes purposely to have him.
"my smart fucking doll."
"my good doll."
" 'atta girl."
he can feel his balls tightening already, this undeniably filthy yet glorious view in front of him. the way her tits bounce, he's holding back not to cum inside her. to make her officially his. his tie on her neck. fuck.
"im cumming, higu." she says burying her face in his neck, moaning messily. he continues to thrust from under, holding her more gentle this time. feeling her vulnerability giving in, their connection getting tighter and tighter every second.
"i love you, higu-"
she sobs feeling the tight coil pop, weakening in his arms. his member throbbing as it shoots ropes of cum inside of her. he then held her tightly.
he's feeling vulnerable and he heard it.
he stroked her back, making sure she feels loved.
"i love you too," he whispers.
he doesn't care if whoever is hearing them right now, he's too individualistic to give a damn. he's making love right, not his fault. they can't speak about her when he's around, most likely not now even if she's alone.
if there's something these people dare to forget in their gossip, it's the fact that every after work, he's taking her out and treating her nicely just like how she deserves it.
that he grows an orchid in his office because hse likes it and he eats the bakery goods.
just like the last time, this author right here says hiruguma is a lover.
ෆ PIXIE'S NOTE ! : inspired by SECRETARY (2002) plus this is my second and last freakyy ahh posting ✌🏻 took me a lot of balls to write ts, not proofread bye 🤤 no more FREAKY WRITING 😡
─ REBLOGS, LIKES, AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED & FEEL FREE TO JOIN MY TAGLIST!
husband! hiromi higuruma is a lover boy. trust. i will always be a believer (and a yapper) that this man absolutely fucks like sex is a sacred thing—slow, tender, and vulnerable.
not fucking you like a man, but a husband.
he works his ass off, can't you see him stressing on that shit ass train? the way he dipped into that damn bathtub like it's the last time? yes, he is deprived but also wanting to make you feel special. vulnerability occurs inside that damn house.
he will be very pathetic, asking you politely for what he needs despite the fact that all he wanted to do was to have you—in many ways than sex of course.
but at that moment, maybe sex is what he really needs especially seeing you so gorgeous. like a meal served purposely for a man who works really hard.
being fucking deep inside you is his private language. his cock was fucking throbbing already and eager to meet you— his tip nudging into the soft fabric, feeling the slit excited much like his. wet spot meeting the dripping tip. just like how it should be.
tongues colliding with your fingers deliberately trying to undo his blouse, his bigger one assisting your hand to properly discard his clothes with a slight grin on his lips. like a damn champ. his fourth smile of the day— before he leaves for work, seeing your messages, welcoming him home, and having you like this.
those fucking hips uncontrollably rising, with your lips between his cock. your hand between his thighs, your eyes meeting his eyes— he's fucking impatient but seeing you like this, he could manage. gently brushing your hair, seeing those cheeks hollow, flushed, and saliva dripping into your chin.
` so fucking pretty.
that's fucking it.
he eats pussy like it's a 5 star meal by the way, slow and deliberate but he knows how to feast— to show how to properly thank a very tasty meal serve in front of him.
he could win an award for treating that pussy like its damn sacred, your existence makes him vulnerable. with your hands claws into his back, pelvis meeting each thrust.
his face buried into your neck, moaning your name quietly while feeling the tight and sloppy walls between his cock— slow enough to make each thrust painfully good. his tip kissing the cervix, like hell.
your praises, it sounds like a damn drug in his ears. like he forgets the fact he almost everything pissed him off a week straight. he's a good husband, who pleases his wife well.
just like how it is.
and when he spilled inside, he holds you like he's not even thinking of letting go soon. i love you, i love you, i love you fuck.
and maybe then, seeing your belly swollen would be a good sight too.
want more? read ts! my beautiful hiromi cookie bear
ෆ PIXIE'S NOTE ! : in my quiet existence in this app, this man made me write again. fuh, im obsessed w him.
─ REBLOGS, LIKES, AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED FEEL FREE TO REQUEST!
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