#higuruma week

[juridicodoutorhiguruma]

Poesia rabiscada em tuas entrelinhas

[HIGURUMA WEEK: Dia 1 (White Day)]

SINOPSE: Higuruma é o tipo de arte que a cada momento que um expectador atento observa, mais aspectos da obra percebe.

QUANTIDADE DE PALAVRAS: 2,1K

TAGS: Imagine Higuruma Hiromi X Reader. Não há pronomes ou termos de gênero, portanto pode ser lido independente de seus pronomes e gênero. Universo Alternativo, Trans Higuruma Hiromi. Fluff e Angst, Hurt/Comfort, um pouco de humor, White Day, encontro, presentes e muita coisa romântica. PT/BR

TW: hurt/comfort, ansiedade, depressão, uns pensamentos intrusivos eu acho, disforia, transfobia, mas no final tudo vira comfort.

NOTAS: oi, oi, oi, venho lhes entregar esta humilde boiolice pra começar a postar as histórias da higuruma week! se alguém quiser curiar mais sobre a week e ver as coisinhas que outras pessoas estão postando do doutor, dê uma olhadinha aqui. se tudo der certo ainda vem muita fic dele essa week yippie!

LEIA EM: spirit | ao3

As poesias que te formam

Higuruma e você namoram há tempo o suficiente para que você passe tanto tempo no apartamento dele que pelo menos metade de suas coisas já estejam por lá. Entre vocês, já há intimidade o suficiente para dormirem juntos na mesma cama e para que o silêncio de vocês dois seja confortável. O sentimento já é maduro o suficiente para que a comunicação de vocês seja eficiente e que ciúmes e inseguranças não sejam uma ameaça. Alguns meses que parecem mais do que foram de fato, afinal, as horas parecem voar junto a Hiromi, ao mesmo tempo em que um segundo tem todo o tempo da humanidade. O desejo, no entanto, é como de um relacionamento extremamente recente e vocês não conseguem ficam perto um do outro sem beijos, abraços e/ou demonstrações de afeto, por vezes, até exageradas.

Mas, apesar de tudo, vocês ainda não fizeram praticamente nada na cama. O máximo que vocês chegaram foram amassos e toques mais quentes, sempre ele te tocando, e quando ele desce numa trilha de beijos e te faz chegar aos céus com a boca. Esse havia sido o limite de vocês até então.

Apesar de querer muito fazer o que quer que fosse com ele, afinal, você talvez e somente talvez tenha um foguinho no rabo desmedido, você não vê problema nessa tal “demora”.

Higuruma é um homem tímido, introvertido e muito, mas muito distante em todas as relações que ele tem. Até você, a vida dele se resumia no trabalho e as relações profissionais que ele cultiva não se misturavam com as relações pessoais que ele mantinha (um total impressionante de 0). A verdade é que ele é um grande medroso que, por já ter se machucado demais de outros jeitos, preferiu se resguardar o quanto pudesse, ainda que antes de você isso o deixasse bem solitário. Conquistar a confiança foi um processo lento e complexo, uma relação que você construiu com muito cuidado e, acima de tudo, amor.

Ainda assim, o medo dele ainda não passou, mesmo com você ao lado dele. Hiromi morre de medo de você se cansar dele e procurar outra pessoa, tanto pelo jeito dele que ele mesmo julga monótono quanto pelo fato de você ser bem mais jovem que ele. Ele morre de medo que você, de repente, se apaixone por alguém mais legal e mais fácil de lidar. Ele morre de medo de você não o achar mais atraente pois ele não está ficando mais jovem. Ele morre de medo… bem, de tudo, mas, principalmente, que você perca o interesse quando o ver por inteiro.

Em outras palavras, Hiromi tem medo de você não gostar do corpo dele e isso te fazer partir para outra pessoa. Ele não duvida do seu amor, não, isso nunca, mas ele é inseguro consigo mesmo ao ponto de achar que você mereceria qualquer um que fosse melhor e o vendo se daria conta disso. Por isso, você nunca o viu sem camisa, sequer.

Bobinho, você pensaria, mas sabe que ele é assim pois é um homem calejado e muito maltratado pela vida. Você respeita os limites dele, os medos dele, as inseguranças, as vergonhas e, enquanto ele não consegue se desvencilhar e superar isso tudo, você faz o que pode para que ele construa uma confiança, afinal, não há nenhum homem mais encantador nesse mundo do que ele.

Higuruma é alguém único, alguém tão complexo e ao mesmo tempo tão simples, um universo inteiro que você adora desvendar dia após dia, alguém que você sempre pode contar e que te proporcionou as melhores experiências da sua vida. Um romântico incurável escondido que apenas se revelou para você.

E, hoje, mais uma vez, a face mais romântica dele se demonstrou a coisa mais doce do mundo no encontro especial em que ele te levou motivado pelo White Day. Você não conhecia esse feriado, então não esperava algo tão romântico quando Higuruma te chamou para sair naquela sexta-feira, imaginou apenas que seria uma saída espontânea sem nada planejado, mas, novamente, Hiromi é um grande romântico e planejou milimetricamente aquele encontro para que o dia 14 de Março se tornasse uma data especial para você também.

Reservas no seu restaurante favorito, passeio de mãos dadas na orla daquele lago que vocês marcaram de visitar um dia após esbarrarem com fotos bonitas dele na internet, uma caixa de bombons, um buquê de rosas do tipo que você poderia plantar (pois ele sabe que você prefere manter as flores por mais tempo) e dois anéis, um com uma lua e um com um sol que se completavam sendo usados juntos. Beijos, abraços, mãos dadas e tanto, mas tanto carinho que você ficaria até com vergonha se visse outro casal agindo igualzinho. Um dia perfeito, ainda mais perfeito quando você sabe que vai acabar com vocês dois dormindo abraçados de noite com sorrisos que vão se manter até pegarem no sono depois de trocarem juras de amor de novo.

No entanto, o que ele não havia planejado foi o que tornou esse dia ainda mais especial para você.

Parte considerável das cicatrizes de Hiromi vem de um único fato, um fato que já foi fardo, já foi medo, tristeza, ansiedade para ele, um fato que ele passou muito tempo escondendo de si mesmo, depois das outras pessoas e, quando se conheceram, até de você. Um fato que embora inofensivo foi sempre o que mais fez o mundo o machucar.

O fato é que Higuruma é um homem trans. Esse ponto final poderia ser o ponto final de fato, a sentença poderia acabar aí e isso ser apenas um dos detalhes sobre ele, como o fato dele preferir café passado no coador e sem açúcar. No entanto, a sua vida inteira foi como cumprir uma sentença pelo crime hediondo de ser ele mesmo. Uma pena dura que ele vem cumprindo arduamente desde sempre e que nem mesmo sendo um prisioneiro modelo havia o trazido algum tipo de benefício por bom comportamento. Os juízes que o julgavam eram implacáveis e haviam o ensinado a culpar a si mesmo.

Isto é, até que a Justiça retirou a venda de seus olhos e o enviou o Habeas corpus mais bondoso que haveria de haver em forma de pessoa. O remédio constitucional agiu pouco a pouco, como a dose de um remédio que começa quase irrelevante, apenas para que o corpo se acostumasse com os sintomas — as borboletas no estômago e as outras coisinhas provindas da ansiedade para te ver e as pequenas crises que ele tinha pensando que você jamais gostaria dele de volta —, aumentando gradativamente — a aproximação cada vez mais próxima, os olhares trocados cada vez mais de perto, os sorrisos quase confessando emoção —, para então ajustar a dose final e finalmente o efeito chegar com tudo preparado — e vocês não largarem mais da companhia um do outro.

É verdade que o amor próprio só pode vir de si mesmo, mas, às vezes, alguns estão tão encarcerados que uma ajuda para se libertar dos grilhões se faz necessária. E você foi a luz que clareou o canto escuro em que Higuruma sentiu-se jogado pela vida, o ajudou a levantar-se e, uma vez em pé, ele finalmente sentiu-se capaz de caminhar com as próprias pernas.

A vida toda Hiromi pensou que remédios tinham de ser amargos como os analgésicos que tomou depois da cirurgia que o deu duas cicatrizes em formato de meia lua, algo que ele sempre acha meio irônico para alguém que tem um sobrenome de girassol. Mas você, ah, você era um remédio tão doce que ele mal sabia lidar.

Hiromi é grato a você por tudo o que você fez a ele e por tudo o que você permitiu que ele fizesse a si mesmo. Hiromi é tão tão grato que ele não sabe exatamente como demonstrar isso, então ele tenta compensar sendo ainda mais romântico e carinhoso, mas nunca sente que é o suficiente. Ainda assim, os gestos mais doces que ele já fez até então sequer se comparavam a aquele que viria em seguida.

Você boceja e se deita na cama, os olhinhos lutando para ficarem abertos enquanto você tenta ter uma conversa sonolenta com Hiromi sobre o quanto o dia foi agradável. Você já está vestido em seus pijamas e o reino dos sonhos luta fortemente para te puxar para lá de uma vez. A visão de seu rostinho sonolento lutando contra o sono o deixa coradinho e ainda mais sorridente do que ele já estava em saber que você havia apreciado aquele dia tanto quanto ele. E é aí, nesse momento, em que acontece algo que faz você arregalar o único olho que você havia deixado aberto na sua batalha contra o soninho que cada vez mais te dominava até aquilo.

Hiromi geralmente dorme com uma camiseta e com a cueca, mas ele nunca se troca em sua frente. Por conta de todos os problemas relacionados a ser um homem trans, ele tem uma certa vergonha de seu corpo, então você nunca o viu sem roupa e também vocês nunca fizeram nada na cama. Você nunca o viu sequer sem camisa. Não até aquele momento.

Higuruma olha para você e depois olha lentamente para a camiseta preta que veste. É confortável e a camiseta favorita dele para dormir, mas aquele Março estava quente e consequentemente isso a deixava um pouquinho menos confortável. As imagens do dia que vocês tiveram passam na cabeça dele como uma montagem de filme com os pensamentos que ele vem tendo há um certo tempo ao fundo, o dando coragem para o momento derradeiro. Ele segura a barra da camiseta e, com um sorriso genuinamente feliz, ainda que com as mãos tremendo um pouco de ansiedade, ele tira a camiseta, a dobra e deixa no local onde costuma guardar o pijama, fecha a porta do guarda roupa e deita na cama ao seu lado.

Você arregala o único olho aberto, pisca e então abre os dois arregalados. Sua cara fica branca e depois corada, como se tomasse um susto e depois se desse conta do que está acontecendo. Como não, aliás, é literalmente isso que aconteceu. Sua primeira reação foi o choque com algo que seria corriqueiro e trivial para a esmagadora maioria das pessoas, para a maioria dos casais. Mas, com Hiromi, tudo aquilo que é ordinário torna-se completamente extraordinário, um momento tão mágico que você suplica inconcientemente para que fique gravado na sua memória para sempre.

Seus olhos, maravilhados com a visão, miram as duas cicatrizes no peito, descem um pouco mais e observam o adorável buchinho que Hiromi ostenta, cada uma das adoráveis dobrinhas, a trilhinha que os pelos fazem ao descer do umbigo, as estrias que decoram as ancas, o final da barriga e das costas e os braços com rabiscos adoráveis, aproveitam cada detalhe da paisagem onírica que apenas Higuruma Hiromi sem camisa seria capaz de proporcionar.

Você rola pela cama e fica em cima dele, que te olha agora com olhos curiosos, sem entender exatamente sua reação. Você acha engraçado, afinal, provavelmente a sua expressão no momento é a mais fascinada que um ser humano pode ter no mundo e ainda assim ele a estuda cautelosamente para saber exatamente o que você está pensando. Você abre um sorriso, primeiro bonitinho e depois atentado, e suas mãos sobem lentamente pelo peitoral dele. Você vai tranquilamente, julgando pela reação dele se seria demais ou não e com a falta de uma resposta negativa te deixa tranquilo para continuar. Suas mãos eventualmente chegam no destino e você balança as perninhas no ar como uma adolescente de filme de comédia romântica enquanto seus dedos acariciam as cicatrizes no peito dele, retraçando o desenho que elas fazem no corpo dele, depois uma delas vai até o braço dele e acaricia as estriazinhas presentes ali, com delicadeza e apreço como se avaliasse uma peça artística da maneira mais manual possível.

— Qualquer artista do mundo cairia aos seus pés embasbacado com tamanha inspiração. Você é arte, a definição, o conceito, a mais bela das obras, a arte em si, tudo isso e mais. Tu tem poesia rabiscada em tuas entrelinhas e eu quero ler e declamar cada uma delas, pois as poesias que te formam são a mais pura definição de amor e perfeição que um texto poderia destacar e já são minhas favoritas. — Você abre um sorriso que mostra todos os dentes com a reação dele (ou talvez a falta dela, tirando pelo rosto tão corado que ele parecia estar a ponto de explodir) e logo depois usa todos os dentes que você expôs para depositar uma mordida nem tão fraca assim no buchinho dele dando sopa.

Você mais uma vez se mexe rapidamente como um animalzinho feroz doido para atacá-lo, resiste ao impulso de morder de novo, mas não deixa de admirar a marquinha meio avermelhada como o autor de uma grande obra.

Uma risadinha atentada te escapa e você deita a cabeça a cabeça na barriga dele, o olhando com os olhinhos mais brilhantes do planeta Terra, da galáxia e talvez daquele apartamento e você murmura docemente:

— Acho que me apaixonei por você de novo.

[95lexx]

Higuruma week - Day 1 🌻 White Day

[weetlebeetle]

Day 4: Curse User / Villain

Happy Higuruma week!!

Blood version + extras below:

[sandsorghum]

criminally bad or good(??) jokes. u tell me.

Higuruma x iconic tumblr/twitter posts part 1

Made a bunch of these (and a bunch more!) for Higuruma Week 2025 and yes! I'm so excited to announce I'm modding it for the first time, alongside @coral-the-corsola, @wibben & @/somnilunaris (IG/twt).

Follow more Higuruma week shenanigans here on tumblr and to go further off the rails (in your 20s,30s,40s etc) join us over on discord! We have so many amazing artists, writers and Higu obsessives there,

I can pretty much guarantee a great time 🌻

[tripleyeeet]

WORRYWART & OLD BONES

SUMMARY: Kento worries too much, while Hiromi doesn't worry at all. PAIRING: Higuruma Hiromi/Nanami Kento WARNINGS: Mentions of potential injury, shameless flirting. A/N: I wasn't planning on participating in @higunanaweek, but then @valleyofwater drew this amazing piece and I knew I had to write just a little something something inspired by it. WC: 800

MASTERLIST

-

Exhaustion. That’s the first thing Kento sees when he looks at his partner; the sudden heavy rise and fall of Hiromi’s chest making him swallow hard and move to rest a hand on the lawyer’s back. 

“You okay?”

Grunting in response, Hiromi rises from his knees to his feet, nodding. The low crack of his bones shifting back into place, causing Kento to frown. 

“Old bones, don’t worry about it,” Hiromi mutters. Then, he claps a hand on Kento’s shoulder in return before moving forward. Each step he takes creating more echoes of pain that follow him back to the hotel room. The unwanted presence of old injuries slowly making themselves heard the longer he remains upright. 

Foolishly, it breaks Kento’s heart. Seeing the man he loves having to stumble through the pain of trying to keep up. As he slowly follows behind, keeping pace in case Hiromi’s body decides to give out, he can’t help but experience his own aches in response. The tightness in his chest only growing when he sees Hiromi pause to lean against the wall long after the elevator stops at their floor. 

“I can hear you worrying,” Kento hears him say, and even though he doesn’t deny it, he still huffs and wraps an arm around his partner. Allowing his fingers to tighten around his shoulder as he guides them both to their room. 

“I’ll make you some ice packs after you’re situated.” 

Hiromi chuckles, watching Kento sift through his pocket for the room key. Another annoyed breath spilling from the blonde’s lips, unimpressed with how nonchalant Hiromi’s being. “Stop worrying,” he reminds him. 

In response, Kento shakes his head and opens the door, maneuvering them both inside before kicking off his shoes. Both of them stumbling a bit as his hand remains fused to Hiromi’s shoulder. “You know I can’t.” 

“Then at least dial it down, yeah?” 

Kento frowns at that, but relents. He doesn’t want to make the situation worse, so instead, he just helps his partner to the bed. Ignoring the awful groan that filters through the air as they both begin to carefully strip his clothes.

“Wish the circumstances were different.”

Kento raises a brow as he begins to take off Hiromi’s tie. “Circumstances?” 

“You taking off my clothes.” 

Despite the anxiety he feels, Kento manages to snort out a laugh. “Ah, yes. Those circumstances.”

“I’d wipe that worrisome expression right off your face.” 

After a beat, Kento hums, trying not to let it show that he wouldn’t mind that as his fingers shift towards the man's shirt, carefully undoing button after button to reveal heated flesh he also wouldn’t particularly mind getting his hands on… if the circumstances were different.

“Do you need help with your pants?”

Hiromi smirks a bit, the temptation to take this little game of what if to new heights before he decides against it and shakes his head. “Nah, I got it.” 

Feeling somewhat thankful, Kento nods and begins to discard his own clothes as he moves to the bathroom. His now somewhat shaky fingers pulling off his jacket before loosening his tie. Images of Hiromi half naked on the bed already taking precedence in his mind, as he discards his shirt and slacks, leaving him in just his underwear. 

Which only spurs his thoughts further. Each one further delving into territories he’s well and truly explored before. The memories of past nights melding into current desires as he washes his face and brushes his teeth. Trying his best to make both his body and mind understand that now is definitely not the time. Not when he can hear Hiromi groan as the bed shifts. Even though the sounds are certainly reminiscent of similar kinds of activity, he shouldn’t be thinking like that. 

Releasing a deep breath, Kento looks at himself in the mirror in annoyance. The evident signs of arousal painting his cheeks as he swipes a hand down the length of his face before moving back to the bedroom, knowing there’s no use in hiding it. Not when it’s Hiromi’s fault anyway. 

“Want me to help you to the bathroom?”

Hiromi, already lying on his back, eyes to the ceiling shakes his head. “Too tired.” 

“Still want that ice?” 

This time, his head turns to face Kento, another smirk spreading across his face. “I never asked for the ice. Though, I’m sure you could use it right now.”

Kento, forever frustrated with the teasing, just rolls his eyes and moves to turn off the lights. His body acting solely on routine while Hiromi just chuckles.

“You’re such a brat.” 

“I don’t see you complaining.” 

“Shut up.” 

After the doors have been locked and double-checked and they’ve fallen into darkness, Kento slips onto the bed, feeling the immediate presence of Hiromi tucking into his side. The simple gesture easing his mind knowing that he’s here and that he’s safe. And that, despite not being able to alleviate the kind of pressure he wants, he’s at least able to feel the worry in his chest subside once his partner slips an arm around his waist and promptly falls asleep.

[higurumaweek2025]

Hello again higu nation! here is the list we have for this years higuruma week! if you have any questions at all please feel free to reach out to us 💖 🌻

[boxeom]

• When Judgement Day Comes •

🌻[The Failure of Truth and the Success of Lies]🌻

Synopsis: Hiromi gets yet another guilty verdict, but luckily, you are there to pick up his stray pieces.

Contains: Higuruma Hiromi/gn!reader, heavy angst, hurt comfort, a lil spooky (:3), (cw.) heavy intrusive thoughts, (cw.) suicidal ideation, (cw.) heavy dissociation, non-sexual intimacy, acts of service, bird facts (it's symbolism, I promise/I also just know way too much about birds and must share my knowledge), disgusting amounts of soft and emotional fluff.

Wc. 5k+

[Message from the Box]: Uhhhh…first time actually posting my writing. A bit nervous. I have literally been writing so much stuff in my personal life and have literally finished stories I've just been a wee scared to post so they've just been sitting in my drive for like…three years??? Maybe there will be more to come if I actually hype myself up enough- I'm proud of my writings, I think I'm an okay writer (I think), but posting them always makes me feel urrg. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it! (IF YOU SAW THE UNCOMPLETED VERSION OF THIS, NO YOU DIDN'T. 🫵🏽)

-Boxe in the Box

Hiromi's eyes peel open slowly to meet the dark roof of his car. He blinks a few times, head lifting from his headrest to stare ahead at the dark and practically empty parking lot just outside the courthouse. The sun was up when he had gotten into his car- how long was he sitting here? A nearby lamppost flickers. Harsh pale yellow light flashes in rapid patterns- straining Hiromi's eyes and painting his skin ghostly white for only mere seconds before plunging him back into shadow. Hiromi chuckles without a hint of amusement. Those really were the only two sides of the coin, weren't they? The head is too bright- too harsh, it leaves you squinting in wait to adjust- to have to eventually hope that you can one day comfortably live in the exposure the light paints you in. Meanwhile, the tail is too dark to even tell whether or not you are conscious as everything passes by right in front of you- leaving you to blindly stumble your way through uncertainty. You can flip that coin as much as you want. But was the hope for heads every time really worth it? Was this worth it?

Was life worth it?

The intrusively dark thought comes creeping its way out unexpectedly- forcing Hiromi to look it right in the face and come to terms with his subconscious questioning the idea of living. It isn't new, not at all. Hiromi has always had thoughts like that, but he's never given them his attention in favor of pursuing his passion to redeem the world of justice and honor. Right now, though? Hiromi finds himself not countering this consideration of life with his usual optimism. He's too tired. He's so tired. Hiromi takes a deep breath and slightly shakes his head, starting his car, flicking on his lights, and leaving that damned parking lot he's had too many moments of defeat in. He doesn't see the dark figure flickering in and out of existence just beneath the light of that lamppost in his rearview mirror watching his retreat- nor does he see the bulb begin to surge with power, shining too brightly until it shatters with an unheard pop! and litters glass onto the asphalt below. He doesn't see that whatever had been watching him was now gone.

•••

Driving has always been something that Hiromi has come to appreciate. Despite the unfortunate impact careening around in a highly flammable steel box at speeds humans were not meant to move at pouring gray smog into the air from every hole had on the environment, Hiromi finds himself comfortable in the mindless routine of turning the steering wheel, pressing or easing off the acceleration or brake, using the appropriate signals when it was time to use them, and everything else that came with such a common act. His windows are down- wind whipping in his ears and face as he naturally drives the speed limit right at its number, blank eyes staring ahead and occasionally glancing to the left or right. Today, though, something is...different.

He finds himself disassociating from the world around him- from the other cars sharing the road and forgetting that living, breathing people reside inside them. He wonders what would happen if he just pivoted into the black Mercedes Benz he saw littering a styrofoam cup full of cigarette butts a couple miles back. He wonders what would happen if he got on the ass of the rundown truck blaring bass and shit with its driver who blatantly has his eyes glued to his phone. Hiromi can feel the upper half of his dress shoe continue to press down on the acceleration, his vehicle revving along with the action as if to egg him on to go faster. He finds himself not caring when he cuts someone off or doesn't use his turning signal. His chest feels positively hollow. Just like before, he doesn't see the dark figure lounging in his backseat just behind him.

It's like he snaps awake when he finds himself in the elevator of his penthouse, the default cheery tune of elevator music making his clear exhaustion look almost comical in the mirrors paneled to the walls surrounding him. His heavy eyes blink. Hiromi's head swivels to the wall to his right suddenly- eyebrows drawn together in puzzlement. He could have sworn, in the corner of his eye, someone was just with him in the elevator. There had been a flash of long black hair and uncomfortably pale skin, donned in a dark robe of some kind. Before he can give what he just saw much thought, the elevator dings and the steel doors slide open. Hiromi blinks a few times and lightly shakes his head. He lifts his free hand, pinching the bridge of his nose before his palm drags down the rest of his face and he sighs deeply while leaving the elevator. Hiromi's shoulders slouch and his feet are heavy against the floor below him. He slips off his shoes, toeing them in the corner before stepping further into his home.

"Hiromi?"

And just like that, the lead in his muscles and fatigue weighing him down just melts away as you peek around the corner to meet his eyes. You meet him halfway. It doesn't go unnoticed by Hiromi how your eyes look him up and down in clear concern and what he really thinks is pity. "...Guilty again, huh?" He doesn't even need to explain it to you anymore. Hiromi feels every single ounce of negativity cursing his mind, body, and soul simply disappear as he steps into your open and warm embrace. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him flush against your body as a hand cradles the back of his head and welcomes his heaviness. Hiromi's forehead drops to your shoulder and his eyes slide close in relief to be with you. "I made dinner. Hungry?" He shakes his head to decline your offer. There's a moment of guilt in the pit of his stomach that he selfishly turns down your effort in caring for him, but that feeling is soon washed away as you nod instantly. You understood. You always understood. "C'mon," you give a soft kiss to his temple, "let's get this suit off."

With your hand in his, you lead Hiromi into your shared bedroom and take his suitcase to put aside on his desk. You sit Hiromi down on the edge of your bed gently and go about grabbing some more comfortable clothes for him to wear. Hiromi watches you with the softest gaze as you return to him, setting a fresh pair of boxers and one of his old college shirts beside him. You start loosening his tie, “Wanna get washed off? We can lay down afterwards.”

“Yes, please."

“Want me to join?”

Hiromi's heart swells to a point where his chest aches. He leans forward into you, head resting on your chest to listen to your steady heartbeat as he hugs your waist and draws you close between his legs. He just needs a moment to take you in- to feel you in his arms. You let him, return his embrace without question. His heavy eyes close slowly.

He's home.

•••

Hiromi lets out a long sigh as he sinks into the hot embrace of the lavender scented water filling the master bathroom’s spacious tub, resting his arms along the porcelain edges. His eyes peel open when you pass by- pulling your shirt up over your head and tossing it into the wicker laundry bin against the wall. He tilts his head, taking you in from head to toe as you slip your shorts down your legs. Hiromi’s eyebrows knit slightly.

“Where'd you get that bruise from?” He asks in concern, sitting up and reaching out for you- palm smoothing along the back of your bare thigh where a large, dark bruise welts against your skin. “Hm?” You peer over your shoulder at Hiromi with a frown of surprise, “I have a bruise?” “Yeah- it looks horrible. Did this happen recently?” “Oh, right,” Hiromi’s thumb gently rubs small circles against your flesh as you chuckle sheepishly, “I slipped and fell while running late to a meeting the other day, but it didn't hurt or anything.” Hiromi lets out an exasperated sigh, “How do you always manage to hurt yourself? Please be more careful, you have enough scars and bruises as it is.”

You raise your hands in playful surrender as you step into the bath, “I know, I know, I'm sorry.” Hiromi just shakes his head with a smile and welcomes your body against his when you join him within the water. You hum out in satisfaction, your back pressed to Hiromi's chest- your skin warm and pleasant flushed to his. Hiromi noses at the crook of your neck before leaving a fond trail of kisses down the gentle slope. Your hand reaches back as you tilt your head to give him more room, fingers threading through Hiromi's dark hair and scratching his scalp just the way he likes as his lips linger on the scar that curls at your left shoulder. Hiromi closes his eyes and wraps his arms around your waist to pull you closer still. “How was your day?” He asks against your skin. “You don't want to talk about yours?” You shift slightly in his arms to peer at him where his chin is tucked into your shoulder. “No,” Hiromi tilts his head to gently bump yours, your temples resting against each other's, “I just want to hear about you.”

You don't respond, but Hiromi can feel the way your cheek rises just a bit with your smile.

The next thirty minutes or so are filled with you telling Hiromi how you've spent your uneventful but peaceful day off (“boring is best”, you always say) as the two of you bathe together. It's a routine that you're both familiar with- one that Hiromi holds very dear (and he knows you do as well). You always insist on washing him first, working soap against his skin with a delicate touch and melting away the stress and tension of his day. When it's your turn, Hiromi is never not thorough. He finds it oddly relaxing- cleaning another person's body for them (though, he'd never done such intimate acts with anyone before meeting you so maybe he finds it so comforting because it's you).

His favorite part, though, is when you coax him to rest back into your chest and wash his hair. Tonight is no different.

Your hands do wonders. How you aren't the most famous massage therapist in the world, Hiromi has no idea (but he's more than happy to keep your talents for himself, anyways). Your fingers work through his hair with a touch that could rival that of an angel's. The clean and woodsy smell of Hiromi's shampoo fills the air as you knead his sensitive scalp, the heavenly combination nearly causing him to doze off in the water the two of you sit in. Hiromi's head lulls whichever direction your hands work in and his eyes have long since fluttered shut at the sound of your voice very seriously recounting a nature documentary you'd been absolutely appalled by earlier this evening.

"-and the mother bird won't realize that she's been taking care of a baby that isn't hers! The cuckoo hatches along with her babies and she'll feed them all, but the thing is that the cuckoo is much larger than the others so the mother will focus on feeding them more than her own." You tell him, disturbed by the information you've learned, "The other babies will either starve to death because they aren't getting enough food or be pushed out of the nest by the cuckoo because it needs more room. It's called...oh, what was it?"

"Parasitic brooding..." Hiromi finishes for you, having remembered seeing the term in a book he'd read once.

"Parasitic brooding! That's it!" You frown deeply, "It was really...sad. I know it's just nature, the cuckoo is just doing what its instinct is, but still...I can't help but feel bad for all the birds involved. The baby cuckoo especially."

"The baby cuckoo? How come?"

"...I'm not sure. It's just...the idea of a baby that's planted into a family it's meant to destroy without even knowing..." You trail off long enough for Hiromi's eyes to open and tilt his head back against your chest to see your face. "...It's a scary thought." He correctly words your feelings aloud. "Very." You agree solemnly, absentmindedly shaping Hiromi's hair into spikes. It's a bit surprising to him- how affected you seem by this concept. He's sure there's something there, something complex within you he's yet to uncover. Your relationship was founded and built on patience and trust- both of your backgrounds are complicated enough to have shaped who you are today significantly. And you've both mutually confided in one another about your pasts with time.

Hiromi knows there is still more about your life before him that you haven't told him about. However, he would never dream of trying to push that information out of you. Whatever it is, whenever you are ready to tell him about it, he'll be there for you the whole way. It's a silent promise he'd made to you early on into your friendship that he has no intention of breaking now after three years of being together.

He slowly sits up, turning in the water to face you and cup your face in his wet hand. You lean into his touch with an apologetic and sheepish smile. "Sorry...I was getting too into my head."

"You have nothing to apologize for."

"But I'm supposed to be taking care of you today, not the other way around."

"We can take care of each other at the same time, you know." Hiromi reasons, his response being a trill of your lips and a playfully dismissive wave. "Impossible."

With a shake of his head, he kisses your forehead and chuckles against your skin as you snicker along with him. When he leans back, you're beaming up at Hiromi with a smile that will never fail to make the rest of the world just disappear. He breathes your name. "I love you." "I love you, too."

"Keep telling me about the documentary. What else did it talk about?"

"Oh! Did you know that there are families of lesbian lizards?"

•••

Hiromi climbs into bed beside you, letting out the hundredth sigh of the day when he flops face first into the sanctuary of his fluffy pillow. He hears you snicker and coo with sympathy to the side and he can't help but smile. You pull the cool duvet over him before settling in, your hand resting on the nape of his neck and absentmindedly playing with the short dark tufts of hair there. Hiromi turns his head to meet your eyes. The two of you simply stare at each other for a moment. His mind wanders back to the failure of his day- to the look of pure contempt on his client's face when the verdict was given. Will the next time be the same? And the time after that? What about the inevitable case he'd take a year from now? Will he ever make a difference? Is he the kind of person that can even make a difference...?

"What're you thinking about, Hiro?"

“...Do you think I'll ever change anything?”

Your expression is hard for Hiromi to read, even after these years of being with you, but he can see the sympathy in your eyes. There's something else he catches just in the subtle downturn of your thoughtful frown. It's complicated and deep and almost devastating. It's like you've heard these words or asked yourself the same question before, but in a way Hiromi can't seem to grasp. Your palm glides to cup his cheek, thumb stroking the corner of his eye rhythmically. Before he can think any further on it though, the brief glaze to your stare disappears to something he can actually recognize. Love.

“I do.”

There isn't a hint of doubt in your whisper. You continue;

“You are…a righteous, beautiful, and passionate soul with the mind to accomplish anything and everything you want. You're always learning, always watching, always adapting. And I wish- every single day- I wish I could be even half as strong as you are. You're unshakeable, Hiromi.”

Hiromi has never been a very outwardly emotional man. It takes a lot for his heart to bare itself so clearly. Even so, you are easily able to sway him as if it was as simple as breathing- like he is a book with its pages ready and waiting to be read and analyzed by your eyes and your eyes alone. It's a terrifying and exhilarating experience. To be seen, known, and cherished.

“You won't just change anything, Hiromi.” You smile so softly, finger brushing away the tear Hiromi hadn't noticed was falling until your touch. He lifts his hand to cover your own and weaves your fingers together. “You'll change everything. I know it.”

“...How?” His voice is so quiet, he almost doesn't hear it himself…but you hear him.

“Because you're Higuruma Hiromi. And I love you.”

There's such a serene silence that falls between the two of you, Hiromi almost feels like he's caught in a dream. Your skin is painted by the loving strokes of the rising moon’s brush- your eyes sparkle brighter than any mere shooting star that's ever streaked across the night sky. You're ethereal. Hiromi has to question- has to wonder what it is he did in his past lives to have earned the grace that is you. What he does know, though, is that you're here. With him.

And that is more than enough.

The shadows of your and Hiromi's bedroom shift, something darker than the black blanket of night slinking silently across the ceiling. It moves slowly and deliberately- spindly and twisted limbs like the branches of a dying tree moving the bulbous, swollen trunk they are attached to. The damnable thing crawls down the wall the headboard of the bed presses against, making its way closest to Hiromi's side. Its pencil thin neck stretches and cranes with the accompanied sound of crackles and pops (as if stretching bones it does not possess), two wide bloodshot eyes that are much too human yet far too large leer unblinkingly down at the soundly sleeping man just within its reach. Its face holds no features- just a silhouette of a head that is too small compared to its sac-like body. It's like a child's rendition of a giant spider they saw in their nightmares has peeled off paper and grew the size of a car. It stares, drinking in the face of the human who's woe it bore from. His desperation, his sorrow, his guilt, his regrets- all a delectable ambrosia that fills its fat gut. But it is not enough.

There's a soft, almost undetectable sound from it. Like the slow inhale of a dying man that draws on and on and on and on and on, hollow and wheezing and infinite. The space where its mouth should be begins to fall cartoonishly from the upper half of its face, a cacophony of ripping tendons and snapping cartilage growing more and more frequent the more its gaping maw yawns open. It draws closer to Hiromi, jaw unhinging and stretching to the size of Hiromi's upper torso.

Closer. Closer. Closer. Closer.

Creak.

The creature's mouth snaps closed, head shooting up to the sudden sound of something just barely moving to the right. Its wide eyes widen further when it meets the subtly glowing gaze of you. You stare into its very core- shaking the foundation of its being. Your expression is void, yet the unbridled wrath storming in your eyes and lashing through your energy strikes something into the newborn curse. Something so horrible, it cannot truly comprehend how or why you make it feel.

It feels fear.

The curse is fleeing before it realizes, scattering with uncanny speed across the floor and heading straight towards the glass doors leading to the connecting balcony. It crashes through the glass, pieces digging into its fleshy body but it is undeterred. Gnarly fingers wrap around the railing as it heaves its body up, ready to jump over the edge and escape into the night. It watches as its own body suddenly hurdles over the edge of the railing unceremoniously- plunging silently over the edge and disappearing. Its eyes shake as it slowly peers to the side.

"The next time you are born," your voice is soft and even as your fist tightens around its severed neck with a strength that has the curse's eyes about to pop out of its head, your free hand resting over its face, "make sure it isn't by him."

There's a sick, wet, tearing sound- purple residue spraying across the floor of the balcony as you reduce the curse’s head into a ball of meat, raw cursed energy rushing through both parts of its body before exploding in a display of churning blue flame. Any evidence of its existence is instantly eradicated. You look back just as Hiromi is startled awake from the shattering glass, snapping your fingers as the ruined glass door flashes and is fixed in the blink of an eye. Hiromi bolts upright and his head snaps to where you're re-entering the bedroom. "Sorry," you whisper, "did I wake you?"

"Wh-What the hell was that?!" Hiromi asks in panic, eyes flickering around your bedroom to find whatever it was that had awoken him. Guilt picks at your bones as you tilt your head and furrow your brow in feigned confusion. "What was what?" Your boyfriend stares at you like he's trying to decide if he's gone crazy or if you've gone crazy. "Th-That...that sound! It sounded like glass was breaking!" "...Glass? I didn't hear anything, Hiro."

Hiromi blinks a few times, processing your words- his mind running. You can see him thinking. You know that he definitely knows he didn't dream that up, but your reaction clearly makes him question himself. “You're stressed, baby. It was probably just a nightmare.” To ease (and distract) him, you move back into bed, your hand gently cupping his face to turn Hiromi towards you and meet him in a soft kiss. He relaxes with a slow exhale through his nose- you can feel his rapid heart beat calming where you rest your hand over his chest. “C’mere, let's go back to sleep, hm?” You murmur when you pull away, your answer a quiet nod. Hiromi moves with you- your hands gently holding his shoulders to guide him to rest on top of you.

Hiromi sighs as he lays his head on your chest, your fingers threading through his hair and running through his hair to tempt his eyes to fall closed. It's not long until you feel Hiromi's breathing slowly even out like it always does when he sleeps. You glance to the balcony door, releasing your hold on the illusion to assess the damage. There's a giant hole punched right through the now ruined glass door, pieces scattered across the ground (but luckily it's far enough that Hiromi won't accidentally step on the pieces when he wakes up tomorrow). You inwardly groan before setting the false image back into place and shut your eyes.

You'll need to get that fixed tomorrow.

[kacievvbbbb]

I don't know especially with the lastest chapter (ch 265) this just feels so much like Yuuji.

Like especially in the first season people kept asking why he is doing all this, why he wants to save people, why he's beating himself up so much over people he barely knows. People kept wanting to know Yuuji's why and he couldn't explain it he was holding unto the promise he made to his granfther as an explanation but that wasnt really is.

And then you have Mahito who tried to force his own defintion of who yuuji was unto him and beat him down until Yuuji believed it too. He's just a machine killing curses because thats his nature vs Mahito killing humans cause thats his nature. They are beings of instinct slaves to their nature, cogs in the machine. And Yuuji internalizes that so much it weighs so heavily on him the idea that his job isnt to save people but kill curses doesn't sit right with him.

but then at what should be his lowest point he stares his biggest tormentor in the face and said you know what I don't particulalry care what you or anyone else thinks about my reasons. I don't think you have to have grand or innate reasons to do something. Sometimes you just do! and what yuuji wants, more than anything; more than killing curses more than keeping the "weak" safe, is to save his friends. And it's too late for a lot of them, Yuuji was too late but goddam it he won't be late for this. So fuck Sukuna he's bringing Megumi home.

[blueflamebimbo]

HIGURUMA HIROMI 🌻

Thirty-six, defense attorney, light of my life.

I didn't know I could draw anything other than chibis...

while I'm aware that it's far from perfect,

I'm quite proud of this.

[coral-the-corsola]

🌻 Day 5: Casual Wear 🌻

My lawyer took casual friday too seriously and wore this to court...

[crescentmoonrider]

more vaguely animal crossing inspired designs for jjk characters, this time featuring shi-woo and higuruma

melanistic fox shi-woo idea courtesy of my good friend @duesternis

[95lexx]

Day 6 🌻 College Days

[medeaschorus]

bathing with his clothes on…gender dysphoria must be hitting like crazy 💔

[deadbaguette]

‘How to fail to make tea 🍵’ ft. TPG parents (the good cooks and the bad cooks)

Part 4 of my art series of for @missingn000 and their fic ‘The Phantom Guardian’

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

[krankittoeleven]

Higuruma Hiromi/Nanami Kento | Ongoing WIP | RATED M for VIOLENCE AND SEXUAL THEMES (rating may change) | No Powers/No Curses Wild West AU, Strangers to Lovers, Judge Higuruma & Outlaw Nanami | Written for Higuruma Week 2024 on X/Twitter

It’s hotter than a whorehouse on nickel night, and it’s not yet noon. Hiromi Higuruma’s fingertips tap dance impatiently over a rough patch of the wooden tabletop in front of him. Someone’s been digging into it with their hunting knife again, and if he catches them at it, he’s going to use their five o’clock shadow to sand out the kinks. Someone could easily get a splinter, and everyone in the territories was looking for a payout.

Right now, he’d give anything to be neck deep in Ms. Mei’s bathtub on the third floor of the town’s actual brothel, but the scales of justice do not stop, even when they are wilting; or in this case: half-melted.

CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 |

[higurumaweek2025]

Only 4 Weeks away can you belive that? Hope every artist and writer is doing good so far, Keep cooking higutruthers! 🌻🌻🌻

Credit to @coral-the-corsola for the art 💖