refer to me as Faustine or Faun! I don't mind either :)
my blog will focus on fluff and angst- sometimes I will write suggestive things, but I'm not the best at writing heavy smut.
I write for fandoms like Blue Lock, Wind Breaker, and Sakamoto days.
Sometimes, I might reblog or interact with posts about other fandoms as well, but I don't write for any other fandoms except the three I've listed.
BASIC REQUEST RULES:
please do not request anything relating to incest, rape, noncon, scat, piss, and anything that's a weird fetish at all. I refuse to write for anything like that, and I'm positive that you'll find another creator that will write that for you.
do not be negative, or a complete jerk in my inbox or comments. I want my blog to be a safe, and positive space for me and others.
requests are open currently, don't be shy to request!
Seeing Sakura say that he hasn't made any progress shatters my heart to pieces. I was rereading a couple of the earlier chapters last week and it's truly incredible to see how much Sakura has grown and changed.
Admitting that he is scared, that he doesn't know what the right thing to do is, shows just how much progress he's made.
The way this chapter is written, the sheer desperation we can see in Sakura's words just breaks me. It's so well-done. The grief is so well-represented and feels so real it actually hurts.
I feel like WBK tackles grief (in all its forms) with a lot of tact and it's just such a well-crafted story, especially when it comes to relationships and what they Do To You. Sakura has always been scared of human contact, of relationships. But being so isolated for so long does shit to your brain (trust me I know) and being physically made aware that yeah, people can and do leave breaks you, especially when you're fifteen.
Hellooooooo!! Saw you're new here and wanted to make a request!! As a Shin Asakura fan, I beg you pleeaassseeee, could you write something regarding the latest chapters?? (That of course if you follow the manga) if not, something about the reader worrying about Shin overusing his powers?
i aodreeee shin oh my gosh thank you for allowing me to write for him! hes the cutest ever this is an amazing idea ヾ(≧ ▽ ≦)ゝ
warnings: CHAPTER 262+ SPOILERS, established relationship, fem reader, reader is a worrywart, scolding, comfort
the alley was silent tonight.
no footsteps, no traffic, and especially no voices.
just the sound of shin asakura's ragged breathing as he stumbled forward, one hand pressed against the brick wall to keep himself upright. his vision blurred as his heartbeat pounded painfully in his ears.
using his esp against tanabata had drained everything he had left. every thought he had forced himself to read, every movement he predicted, every split-second decision had chipped away at the little strength remaining inside him.
"...made it,” he barely managed to whisper, his knees buckling as his body hit the pavement with a dull thud. darkness swallowed him whole as he smiled softly, as he finally thought he was getting closer to mr. sakamoto as he defeated an order member by himself.
-
"...shin."
a voice called out his name– was he dreaming? suddenly, warm fingers brush through his messy blonde hair.
"shin, wake up."
his eyelids felt impossibly heavy.
stirring awake, he groaned softly. "...mm..."
the scent of tea filled his nostrils. fresh laundry, your perfume. those familiar things forced his eyes to flutter open.
the ceiling wasn't cracked concrete anymore. instead, soft afternoon light spilled through curtains, painting gentle streaks across a familiar bedroom.
"finally,” your voice immediately reached him as you sighed. before he could even sit up, your face appeared beside him. you looked exhausted and worried– and most definitely angry.
you glared at him from the side, your lips forming a pout.
he wasn’t sure what to say– how could he, when he knew how much his girlfriend worried? all he creaked out was a pathetic, "...hey."
"don't 'hey' me,” you cut him off before he could speak again. "don't even smile,” you told him sternly. you folded your arms tightly across your chest, glaring down at him. "do you have any idea how terrified i was?"
shin blinked.
“..i had to track your phone– i found you unconscious in an alley!" with your hands rubbing your temple, you scoffed as you continued. “don’t even get me started. you weren't waking up, your pulse was weak, you looked like a corpse, shin!"
he wanted to speak again, but you just kept going on and on. it wasn’t unusual for you to scold him like this, but he knew it was only because you cared so much.
"shin.” your voice cracked. "you scared me."
that was enough to wipe every trace of humor from his face.
slowly, he pushed himself upright despite the ache screaming through every muscle. "y/n…"
you looked away. "...don't."
"look at me." he tried again.
"..."
"please."
you hesitated before finally meeting his eyes. there were dark circles beneath yours, meaning you hadn't slept for a good while.
"..."
"...you cried?"
“only because you're an idiot, shin!"
he smiled softly. “that’s fair."
"no, not 'fair.'" you stepped closer, then flicked his forehead– an “ow!” leaving his lips while he shut his eyes in pain. but when he opened them again, he looked at you, and saw your glossy eyes and tear stained face. his heart ached at the sight.
"you overused your powers again,” you said softly, before looking down at your lap.”...i hate seeing you like that, you know?” your voice had become quiet, and you were speaking to the floor quietly rather than him. "every single time you leave… i never know if you're coming home."
shin's shoulders lowered. he knew– of course he knew. i guess he he just never thought about it long enough. because if he did, he'd hesitate. and hesitation got people killed in this world.
…
carefully, he reached for your hand. "..’m sorry."
"you always say sorry, then you go do it again."
"i know."
his thumb gently brushed across your knuckles. "...i know i'm reckless, but..." he looked down. "...that guy would've killed people. i couldn't stop– even if it did kill me."
silence settled between you, because you understood. you hated it, but you understood. that just was who shin was. he was someone who threw himself into danger before anyone else could. someone who never thought twice if it meant protecting another person, or even if it destroyed him.
...
you sighed, before standing up so you could sit carefully on the edge of the bed. wrapping your arms around him, you buried your face against his shoulder.
“does it still hurt?” you whispered.
"...yeah." he nodded, smiling softly before resting his cheek against your head. "i’m still pretty deaf in my left ear, but i'll try not to overdo it next time. i promise.”
you swallowed. “..i’m sorry for yelling at you. i love you, and i just want you to come home to me safely.”
shin smiled to himself as he kissed the top of your head, a faint blush on his cheeks.
his body still ached, and his head still throbbed from overusing his esp. everything hurt– but as he listened to you getting up and bustling around the apartment, complaining loudly enough for him to hear while making sure he was fed, safe, and home...
he couldn't imagine a better place to wake up.
and for the first time in what felt like forever— his mind was wonderfully, peacefully quiet.
a/n: i dont even PLAY about my son shin is my favorite sakamoto days character im so happy i got the chance to write for him
synopsis: you and nagumo are assigned to infiltrate an exclusive gala under the guise of a married couple, forcing you both into a night to untangle loose ends
the tone that you used is sharp, hostility evident with the way that your lips loll out the words. then followed a scoff, then a roll of your eyes, and finally, a scowl. the lack of response tells you everything, you will be sent on a joint assignment.
after a short while, you finally admit defeat—you can't possibly escape an assignment requested by the higher-ups. a sigh leaves your lips before your hand settles on the curve of your hips, posture slightly lopsided with the helplessness that you feel.
with a defeated tone, you ask. "so? who am i doing this with?"
your superior's lips move and you make out the sound that leaves them. but when you realize whose name it belonged to, it blurs right into your ears and you short-circuit—your eyesight physically blurs and everything sounds so distant all of the sudden, your lips agape with shock and denial.
"what?" your lips twitches upwards into a crooked smile, "can you—can you repeat that?"
your superior sighs before shoving in a folder in front of you. you catch it with ease before frantically opening it; inside is a stapled document—formal statement requesting the assignment be carried out as soon as possible by the assigned personnel.
your name is clearly written as the primary operative. and below your name is the executive assigned to supervise the case—the order member: nagumo yoichi.
your arms weaken at the newfound information of your upcoming assignment. there's a scoff that leaves your lips when you finish reading the entirety of the documents, including the content of the assignment itself.
you lick your lips before slamming the folder back onto your superior's table. "with all due respect, sir, i don't think i am fit for this assignment—" you sound out flabbergastedly, "a high-profile celebration, sir? i have not the necessary foundation to act out my part properly—"
"you do it or you don't, [name]." his voice is stern while he looks up at you, "don't disappoint me."
you're left speechless. you're stuck with this assignment whether you like it or not. you bite down your worry before finally standing up straight in front of him, "i understand, sir."
he turns around before flicking his fingers towards the door, "meet with nagumo. i'm certain he is awaiting your arrival in the order's conference room."
you stand there for a while, unmoving with your lips open and a frustrated sigh leaves it before you finally decide to turn your back and leave the room with a godforsaken assignment weighing on your shoulders. you shut the door behind you and you stood there, in the tiled hallway of the jaa headquarters, head tilting low and your hands circling into fists that you feel stinging against your skin when your nail digs into it.
but that's all that you give yourself—just a quick moment of unrestrained frustration. because the next thing you're doing is walking down the hallway towards the conference room with a smile, bowing to everyone who passed by you.
you don't even waste a second before swinging the door open, the metal hinges creaking loudly from the harsh push. your blood immediately boils when your vision catches a certain ravenette toying with a pen, sitting on a chair with his back facing you and a blond one seated opposite to him.
you glare towards shishiba, the one who shrugged his shoulders when he sees you swing the door open, before stomping your way towards the man who has his back facing you.
grabbing the chair tightly before turning it around. he swirls in place and when he finally comes face to face with you, there is that never-changing, annoying smile plastered across his lips. you scoff out sarcastically before clutching onto the fabric of his clothes in front, you lift him up a bit and he puts his hands in the air.
"don't fuck with me, nagumo!" you yell out, your volume reverberating across the closed area of the conference room. "i know you arranged this stupid shit. get my name off that assignment, you fucker." your hold against him tightens until he finally feels suffocated and pulls your hand away, but to his dismay, you don't budge.
he gives up on that and flicks a hand towards shishiba. "can we have the room please?"
the blond man huffs before kicking himself off the seat. "geez, get your divorce settled, nagumo. these angry wives will catch up to you soon—"
"we're not married!" you yell out but shishiba has already shut the door close behind him, leaving only you and nagumo inside the close-area, rather claustrophobic order conference room.
you nod towards the man you hold against your chest, your anger seething out. you clutch tighter as an encouragement to get him to explain but he doesn't let out a single sound, instead he looks straight at you, lips now no longer curled upwards his usual smile.
you let go of him, an exasperated sigh leaving your lips when you do so. he stumbles slightly and ends up leaning against the table while he fixes his clothes back to their tameable appearance.
he breathes out while doing so, "for the record, i'm not in on this." there's a harsh pull on his collar, he unbuttons it and you get a glimpse of his tattooed skin beneath. "i didn't even know about this until an hour ago—we're on the same boat here."
your eyebrows furrow when you hear him reply. a baffled scoff escapes through the gap of your lips and it's evident that you don't believe him—all of this is a coincidence and he didn't have one say about it? yeah, real nice.
your eyes are still on him while he pats down the wrinkled parts of his button-up shirt, easing out the collar part where you lifted him up earlier. the silence is gnawing against your skin and the feeling is strange—you’re alone with him again for the first time in, what, years?
how long has it been since you and nagumo called it off? two? three? you can’t pinpoint an exact amount of time because you’ve already put all of that behind you. everything, from start to finish, you told yourself that you’ve brainwashed yourself off that bitter memory. but now, everything comes crashing down because there’s nothing distracting you from the fact that he’s right there in front of you.
and the upcoming assignment you have with him doesn’t make your situation any better.
back to zero.
you let out a defeated sigh before walking over to take a seat on one of the chairs that’s a tad bit farther from where he stood leaning against the table. you wave off your hand, eyes closed with disinterest, “so, how will this go?”
nagumo slides over a process folder to your direction, you open it after a while while he talks and you’re half-listening. “it’s a high-profile celebration, the one who put up the request sent one entrance stub.” he starts and your hands trace the intricate design on the entrance stub and onto the lifted font—bring your plus one.
now, you get the story.
you internally curse before tossing the folder back onto the table and off of your hold. you swipe your hair back as you lean against the chair, sighing exasperatedly before huffing out, “give me a few hours to get ready and everything.” you try to compromise and fortunately he gives you that.
you stand up, getting ready to leave. “you can get the materials from the basement.” he advises but you wave him off with a, “i have my own.”
you leave the headquarters to retire back to your apartment where you finally had the opportunity to crash out.
stepping foot inside your tiled apartment, you shut the door close behind you and you melt against the cool metal, there’s a thud when you finally fall onto the equally cold tiles. you stare out front where your window is slightly agape and the overview is the entirety of the city, you feel everything crashing down at once.
you let out a sigh before bundling your hair into one messy ball where you pulled and nipped your nails against. you feel the hard scratch against your scalp and that’s where you know everything is happening and none of it is a dream—you are inevitably subjected to a joint hit where you need to act like a couple with your ex.
you let go, breathe in deeply before finally standing back up.
on the way back to your room, you pass by a translucent sliding door and you see your reflection on it. it’s blurry but it’s there: the tears that threatened to leave right in the corners of your eyes are evident with the way that your eyes sting just a tad bit.
you roll your eyes before fogging up the screen with a messy wipe, “stop crying.” you tell yourself, discarding all sob stories behind to finally man up and act professional.
you spin your phone in your hands, leaning against a post while you wait for your partner. your clothes lacked necessary cover making you feel almost everything around you including the coldness of the city’s winter.
just around the block is the convention center—a hotel—where the party is going to be held. limos after limos pass by and you can’t help but feel seen from where you stood. you sigh, shoulder slumping and your patience thinning, you begin typing in a number on your phone and fortunately, it hasn’t been changed.
“where are you?” you complain almost immediately as soon as the line got connected, “i’ve been waiting here for ages.”
he laughs from the other side of the call and your blood boils the moment he does, “hey i asked you.” you bite deeper, eyebrows furrowing while you stomp your feet, heels clacking just a tad bit and your hand tightens on your hips.
“sorry if i kept you waiting.” he finally spoke, but it’s not faint with static like the ones you usually hear in phone calls. no, his voice sounded with more clarity and with every passing word he says, his volume gets louder.
you shut your eyes close before sighing, hanging up on the phone before looking to the side only to see him clad in formal attire and his phone by his ear. nagumo in the flesh, a lopsided grin settled on his lips.
“shall we?” he reaches out his arm for you to intertwine with but you hesitate, your lips mumble words of annoyance before you finally give in to seem professional.
beside you, nagumo is satisfied. a huff exits his lips as his arms tighten just a bit around yours and you’re all too aware of how the fabric of his blazer brushes against your naked, sleeveless arms. or how his broad back is highlighted with the delicate accuracy of his posture—truly, if called for it, he can be quite sophisticated.
the convention center of skyline central had this intricate interior all in the rich hue of gold and bronze. everything, from one corner to the next, complimented each other perfectly and by just standing in the foot of the entrance where you can overlook the entirety of the convention, you’d know this celebration is nothing short of influence and regard.
you feel intimidated all of the sudden, your red-bottomed heels click and clank with every step that you take and when you reach the usher in charge. “madam, sir,” she bows, “your ticket, please.”
nagumo looks at her for a tad bit before nodding his head, “oh, right. my love, please.” he turns to look at you and you’re left stunned with the unfamiliarity of his voice calling out to you by an intimate endearment that you’re oh so used to before.
the usher looks at you, eyebrows raised and just then do you realize that nagumo entrusted you with the ticket and that he’s pertaining to you when he called out my love.
you scramble in your place, opening your purse before handing out the ticket to the usher. she smiles, bowing for the last time before she guides you to an attendant who gives you and nagumo a shot of champagne as a welcome beverage.
you two traverse the wide area occupied by nothing but arrogant businessmen, prominent executives, and high-value stakeholders. the smell of affluence trespasses your senses and your head begins to feel lighter. everywhere your eyes landed radiated grandeur, so all of the sudden you felt small.
you bite down your shame, slowly sinking into a puddle of nothingness. you don’t even notice how your hold against nagumo tightens. he looks down on you to check what’s wrong and he sees your head hanging low and your posture slump with discomfort.
nagumo puts the pieces together and nudges you, “we’re on a job, [name].” he whispers so only you and him can hear. his voice is low and you can hear it reverberating in your eardrums as it’s the only thing that you can hear clearly in this packed and loud space for celebrations.
you get picked up from your trance and you swerve back to reality. you look up at nagumo who is looking back at you with a faint smile playing on his pink-stained lips. you notice his hair is slightly disheveled from traversing in the tightly packed entrance and so you reach up, adjusting his hair back to neatness.
he is taken a tab bit aback from your gesture but nonetheless he let out a chuckle. “thank you.”
you shake your head after retracting your hand, realizing what you’re doing is no longer part of the job if not performing in front of these people. you clear your throat, cheeks red with embarrassment because you made him laugh.
and just when the air between you two is getting thicker with tension, someone approaches. his leather black shoes clanking against the gold-tinted tiles, a glass of white wine in between his fingers, and a signature smirk spread across his lips.
“you must be mr. takahashi.” he raises the half-empty glass of white wine, greeting you both with an alias that the client told you to use. “and beside you—” he gives you a softer smile, “—most esteemed lady, mrs. takahashi.”
you swallow a lump before regaining back your composure and you envelope yourself back into the cloak of your disguise as mr. takahashi’s wife.
you nod your head down, “your celebration, as always, is unparalleled." you reach out your free hand for him, the next thing you feel are his cracked lips against the dainty skin of your knuckles.
you physically cringe at the feeling—your hands shiver a bit and your expression ghost one of disgust. nagumo, beside you, notices it all. he snickers silently before returning back to his serious façade when the host, mr. jinno, stands straight back up.
you retract your hand back to yourself when his grip loosens, a strained smile hanging onto your red-streaked lips. you look up back to nagumo when they begin conversing and you’re quite impressed with the way that nagumo is incredibly well-versed with whatever topic they had—considering that it’s nowhere near related to being a hitman.
you’ve grown bored with listening in and having no opening to interfere or insert yourself because you have zero idea on what to say. you scrunch your nose, the wafting the smell of desserts in the nearby pastry bar. you try, very hard, to resist temptations but it’s all wasted efforts when you eye catches on attendant roaming around with the tray of meticulously crafted delicacies.
your shoulders visibly slump, you swallow before looking upwards to nagumo, puppy eyes staring up. the man sweatdrops, “yes?”
finally, his attention is on you. you point towards the pastry bar, “do you, two gentlemen, mind that i go tend to my cravings?” a sultry smile plays along the edges on your lips and you have charmed the two men with your appeal.
mr. jinno speaks first, “help yourself, madam. those are, after all, for guests.” he gestures towards the section and you nod, now awaiting nagumo’s permission. he merely sighs, “do not stray too far, my love.”
for a second, your heart skips with the way he reminds you. but you remember the performance you two are upholding until the end of the assignment, so instead of slapping yourself back to reality where you and nagumo are no longer together and that it’s all an act, you give him an equally loving smile.
“i will always come back to you, my love. you know that.”
you don’t spare him a second for a reaction, you turn your back almost immediately, hoping that he doesn’t catch the way your ears are the same color with the strawberry decorated atop of one pie, or how your cheeks look like it’s been dusted with the entirety of a blush bottle.
nagumo freezes from where he stood, his eyes now out of mr. jinno’s view as he looks further to the direction where you ran off. he doesn’t hear how the distinguished gentleman beside him has begun rambling back on the topic, his attention now divided after you’ve left him questioning with your choice of words.
“right, mr. takahashi?”
just then is he pulled out of his trance. he turns back to look at mr. jinno. “yes.”
occupied with the desserts in front, you’ve long forgotten what words you said to nagumo before running off on your own. as far as you’re concerned, you can’t be bothered to remember them when these delectables are staring right in front of you.
but your sweet treat time is forced to come to a halt when a gentleman—looking far too flirty for his good—starts to approach you.
“what a fair evening, would you agree?” the first thing that you notice is his vocabulary. do all rich folks speak like this?
nonetheless, you cannot be seen talking to someone whose smile lazily sits on their red-glossed lips and eyes half-lidded with body language clearly stating that they’re looking for company. no, you cannot, because that would jeopardize the whole assignment.
you meekly nod, taking the plate of boston cream goodness up your chest before excusing yourself which leaves him no choice but to question what went wrong for you to just walk away with nothing but a tilt of your head.
you immediately find your way back to nagumo’s side, where he and and mr. jinno are talking about whatever rich, out of touch gents talk about.
he notices, “you’re back early—thought you’d be far more invested in them that it would take you more than just five minutes, my love.” he speaks again, addressing you with an endearment that makes your skin crawl.
you swallow the melting cake on your tongue, “i didn’t want anyone mistaking that i didn’t have company.” you merely say, a knowing smile on your lips. “and i’m most especially sure, you, also wouldn’t want that.”
nagumo hums, lips agape while his head nods slowly. mr. jinno peers from the side, “is something the matter?”
“noth—”
“we were just talking about how dreadful it must feel when your partner is enjoying the company of another, mr. jinno.” you cut him off, an even bigger smile playing on your lips as you do so. “would you feel bad about that, mister?” your lips protruded outwards in a pout as you ask him.
mr. jinno thinks for a while, “well, i don’t see why not.” he shrugs but he doesn’t get the gist of it. after all, mr. jinno, is a lonely man.
but beside you, nagumo is beyond furious. you’ve, yet again, ticked a nerve in him. your choice of words? that sly way of talking to mr. jinno with a topic so sensitive? you knew what you were doing—pissing him off, that is.
he licks his lips wet before turning to the side to face mr. jinno. he wraps a hand around your hips before tilting his head to the side, “can we, me and my lovely wife right here, take a break, mr. jinno? i’m afraid she’s had exceeded her sugar intake for the day and sooner or later she’ll get a stomachache.”
your eyebrows furrow to his words, but the moment you try to argue, his hold against the plush flesh of your waist tightens. his nails dig a bit through the fabric, and you can feel the callouses on his palm from the excessive use of his weapon.
mr. jinno nods hastily, “why of course! i will ask an assistant to show you to your rooms. it’s just outside this convention, the hotel is pretty empty.”
nagumo thanks mr. jinno for his hospitability before you two walk off with an usher.
he walked just a tad bit away from the two of you, keys jangling in his fingers while you and nagumo maintained a distance from him.
you whisper lowly, “the fuck was that for?” you call out, “you call that being professional?”
nagumo doesn’t say a word, instead, he just swerves you even closer to his side until it feels suffocatingly close that you must be molding into each other.
the assistant puts the key card against the door and it opens. he ushers you both in and gives you the card. he leaves you both alone and the slow creaking sound of the no-slam door is horrifying because when it does shut close, it’s loud. you hear it reverberating through the marbled walls of this five-star hotel.
standing in the middle of this king-size room, you can’t help but feel all too aware of the big space that surrounds you. and also to the fact nagumo is here too, alone, with you.
you lick your lips before the sound of your heels echo across the room. the back of your knees meet the edge of the bed and you fall against it. the mattress is soft beneath you and once you’ve scanned the entirety of the room, it feels luxurious.
but that’s all there is to it. it still doesn’t make up for the fact that nagumo has disrupted the flow of the assignment.
“nagumo,” you call sternly, “what’s up with you? we have a job.” you say, a frown present on your moonlit-casted face. the sliding glass door is open—no curtain present to hide you both from the lit-up city overview from the hotel room balcony.
nagumo looks out, hands in his pocket before turning around. “sorry.” he apologizes out of the blue and it makes your chest tighten because you know what he’s saying sorry for—and you haven’t, even after three years, forgiven him yet.
“but you can’t go pressing my nerves when we’re out there, [name].” he takes a step towards you until he’s standing there, right beside your knees and he’s got you encased in between his.
the fabric of his pants rub against the side of your knees and it feels rough, unlike the smooth material it’s supposed to have. all you feel is rigidness—he stares down on you, and the his fingers are hesitantly waiting.
“you know we never really talked about that.” he starts, his hand finally stops fiddling and reaches out to tuck your hair behind your ear.
you lean away, rolling your eyes before crossing your legs in hopes that you stop feeling whatever roughness it is on his pant leg. “it’s unnecessary.”
nagumo sighs before his hands drop to his side. for a second, you thought he had given up trying to get clarity but his opposite hand inches closer, this time he puts it against your cheek, forcing you to look at him. “you know it never happened.”
his words push against you and you don’t like it. you give him a glare, “it did and you can never undo it by charming me with whatever habit we used to have.”
nagumo chuckles out loud with that, “habit? sex on the job, you mean? we used to have fun, [name]—”
“yeah, until you decided it’s cool to run off and enjoy a client’s company. not to mention,” you breathe out, fuming with anger as it all comes cascading down again. “—not to mention, you didn’t tell me that you accepted the order’s membership.”
as if that was the biggest betrayal of them all, it comes out choked. and nagumo’s thumb begins consoling you with soothing rubs. you pursed your lips together until nagumo feels a wet drop against his hand—he realizes you’re crying.
you take a deep breath before leaning back, making nagumo freeze on the spot. but nagumo is everything but inconsistent—the moment you had leaned just a tad bit away, he crawls in, and the more that you sought distance, the more he inched in. all until your back hits the softness of the mattress.
he’s there, right on top of you. your hair is sprawled in all directions and the only boundary that you have between you two are your clothes.
“please, let me make it up to you.” he begs. “and please listen.”
one thing you know about nagumo is that he’s shameless. even until now, when your tear-stained eyes are staring back at him does he have not even an inch of shame left in his hollow heart.
you know what is about to happen and you’re letting it unfold. all because you’re desperate to hear the two-word statement exit his lips. all because you want to know what came through him that day to leave you hanging with a troubled mind and a doubting heart.
he snakes around to hold you against your nape and you crane your head up higher to let him—your body automatically obliging to whatever means he needs just to hold you in his arms. but not once, not while he’s touching you in a way that you told yourself to never let him do so again, did you ever look at him.
he leans down, his weight weighing down on you like pressure, and unlike before, it has become uncomfortable. there’s a whine that leaves your lips when it’s combined with a soft touch of his lips on your neck—it’s spicy and minty in a way that it burns when he does so.
he hears soft sounds of protests leaving your lips, “are you okay?”
but you don’t reply, instead you open your lips to speak. “do you still do this?” while your eyes stay situated on the wilting flower encased in a beautiful vase.
“do what?” he asks, tongue swirling on a certain spot making you squirm in both discomfort and desperation. he teases further, he lolls out the last word as he finally sucks in your skin.
a choked whimper leaves your lips as you shut your eyes closed, “this—sex on the job, asshole.” you curse out when his hands finally begin to explore, starting from your exposed thigh wherein your dress has ridden up. his hands feel calloused, fingers rough yet they are big, he pinches parts of your fleshy skin and it stings when he does so.
nagumo laughs at your question, “not on the job.” he shrugs before moving on to trail down even further from your neck to your clavicles. he sucks in the bone, leaving faint purple stain on them. the entirety of your neck now covered in reddish, bloodshot circles.
his answer makes you laugh sarcastically. he hears it and when you turn your body away from him, he realizes that you didn’t like his answer. “you must’ve done it too—it’s been so long.” he counters, nodding his head towards you before maneuvering your body back to face him, and when he does, you finally look at him.
his hands settle on the curve of your waist, he presses and you squirm. “yeah. news flash, i did it with shishiba.”
your cocky answer does not excite nagumo at all. his usually bright expression now clouded with disinterest—as if he didn’t want, or need, to hear that at all.
there’s a smirk on your lips when you see how his expression shifted to one of disamusement. but it soon fades away when one of his hands goes behind you and he catches the zipper of your dress.
you let out a gasp when he pulls it down with ease, your bare back touching the cold sheets beneath you. your sleeves hand loosely on your shoulders and you can’t help but use one hand to keep them on, but nagumo gently tears your arm away letting the dress finally slip off your torso, leaving you bare with only one more piece of fabric acting as cover.
your cheeks flare red with blush, embarrassed that you let nagumo see you this way again. you look away, both of your hands coming up to push against his chest as an attempt to hide yourself away.
at the end of the day, you’re still engraved around nagumo’s fingers—every light touch that he does against the dainty skin of your stomach gets you riled up. you shut your eyes close, in hopes to ease the intense sensitivity you feel from being touched.
but when nagumo sees no form of protest from you, he takes it as an invitation. more so when your body begins leaning towards him, as if you’re begging to be touched more.
“let me do this, [name].” sweat begins to build up on your forehead despite the blaring air conditioning and he swipes away the hair that stuck to you before leaning down to press a kiss. if you weren’t all too aware of his modus operandi, you wouldn’t know that that kiss was a question—can i do this?
he confirms with the way that your head tilts down just a tad bit, as if to mimic a nod. it’s subtle, but it’s there, and nagumo wouldn’t miss such a gesture.
perhaps it’s wishful thinking to expect an explanation after this—nagumo, after all, doesn’t like talking too much in the middle of sex. you know that because you’ve been with him for years. years of partnership and it only came to an end because of some bullshit reason.
you never tried to unravel the real reason, not when it happened all so quickly and the only response your body was able to make was to shut it all down. you refused to speak to him, even when the situation calls for it, you find all sorts of reason not to fraternize with him again.
i think it’s safe to say, you hated his guts these three years of being broken up.
but now, you’re so vulnerable, so sensitive and so open beneath him. your eyes are tear-stained and your lonely lips are red with the lipstick of your make-up.
nagumo’s hands roam every inch of your body—covered or uncovered. you feel his fingers do wonders, lingering touches here and there, leaving you desperate for something more consistent.
your hand catches his, he’s stunned with the suddenness of your actions. but nonetheless, he obliges. when you lace your fingers around his, it feels familiar. the way his dainty, scarred fingers fit perfectly in between your own is evidence of the long relationship you two shared.
the keyword is shared.
“listen to me, [name].” he finally whispers, and when he calls you by your name, it sounds unreal. because, the old nagumo you knew would never call you by your given name.
it’s always my love.
perhaps, the assignment had given you a piece of what you’ve missed and you liked that feeling. and to know that he’s eager enough to disrupt the flow of the assignment, it makes you wonder if he’s missing those years too.
his lips ghost over your neck before coming down, tongue tracing down leaving a trail of saliva. he reaches the mounds of your breasts, you bite down a sound when his canine teeth dig down onto your flesh. it’s sickly, but it’s good—that, you can’t deny.
you lick your lips, in an attempt to ease the strange feeling of yearning for something more. but it doesn’t quite to the job because your hips starts swaying upwards, hitting nagumo’s pelvis.
he’s hard, you feel it in the way you’re trying to ease the ache in between your legs. he notices your desperate, slow upward thrusts, and he feels you against his erection. one hand makes its way to your hips, pushing it back down.
“calm down, [name]—”
“please.”
you don’t know what’s come over you but you’re saying these words. your eyes are half-lidded as you squirm beneath him. “please, yoichi—” you choke out, “tell me… what went wrong?”
you’ve been godforsaken. if not against the mattress, you’d be on your knees, begging that he say the reason.
his touch must have magic for you to abandon every speck of pride you have in you because you’re crying below him, pleading that he tell you something to ease the three-year long doubt in your heart.
nagumo jerks, retracting his lips from your tit to assess your expression—you’re crying again. he sighs, carding his hand through your hair and he cooes at you. good thing you’re not in the correct headspace anymore to take it as an offense.
he watches as you lick your lips and he can’t hold back anymore. he leans down, catches your wet lips in his and it’s almost like a puzzle piece for how perfect your lips are slotted against each other. you shut your eyes closed, letting the feeling sink back into you. and like a system, you feel rebooted—something in you has restarted and you’re back to square one.
a moan leaves your lips when nagumo’s tongue enters your mouth. he wastes no time in seeking yours and in a second, you’re both dancing. your tongues are perfectly tangled in each other and you think that if this happened even a day later, you would have forgotten how sweet nagumo tastes—almost like a sweet white wine.
your arms make their way around his torso, you pull him even closer to you. his chest crushing your own and his entire weight against you. he encircles you around his hold as well, he pulls you up to sit and all while you’re both in the middle of making out does he push the lock of your bra open.
the relief makes your lips open in surprise, you let out a soft moan and nagumo finally releases you from the kiss. your bra falls onto the bed and you’re not completely bare in front of him if not for the dress that bundled on your waist.
his eyes wander along your perfectly round tits, his cheeks are red and it’s obvious. you can’t help but chuckle, “you miss this?” a wave of confidence rushes over you and if it weren’t for the tears that ghosted in the corner of your eyes, nagumo would’ve thought you’re a different person.
because, in nagumo’s perfect memory, you are obedient. you’re his doll—submissive under him, never complaining, a princess in his eyes.
nagumo’s jaw clench and a smile is plastered on his lips when he hears you ask. he raises one eyebrows before catching your wrist in his hands, pulling you close to him until you’re seated on his lap. there’s perfect elevation, because now, your tits are right in front of his face.
he wastes no second in diving in, taking your perked up nipples in his mouth. his tongue swirls in perfect accordance to what your body deems most satisfactory. your head leans back, eyes rolling to the back of your head and your torso jerks a bit from the sudden wave of pleasure that washes over you.
nagumo’s mouth and hand are perfectly working their magic against your boobs. and your body reacts to it the way nagumo wants you to, because he’s always in a forever journey to make you feel good—that hasn’t changed.
your hands settle on his shoulder blades, “yo—ah—ichi!” you moan out, gripping against him as you try your best to keep the sounds to yourself.
he retracts after hearing you call out his name, he looks up at you and he notices the swell of your lips—his work. a smug smile rests on his lips again before pushing you onto your back again, you recoil against the plush sheets.
“i was immature back then,” he starts while he pulls the dress off of you and he throws it somewhere on the floor, “i didn’t know what to do—” he caresses your thighs, hands pinching the flesh and your legs jerk a bit from the pleasure that you’re anticipating.
“—i got a request from the board. the order.” the sighs, loosening his tie before tossing his blazer on the floor, leaving him in his tight white polo and a loose tie. “i guess i misinterpreted it as a decision to choose between you or the order.”
before you could even ask what he means by that, he begins pressing kisses on your inner thigh, all while his hands brush over the naked skin of your legs and stomach. you shut your eyes close, lips sealed tight and your question running away to the back of your head.
“i was uncommitted.” and a kiss right beneath your soaking pussy.
you gasp out when you feel his breath fan against the fabric of your panties. you turn your head to the side, pressing your lips against the pillow while your hands clench around the thick mattress.
it’s involuntary but your hips begins jerking upwards again, your soaked panties now right in front of him. he peers towards you and he sees you relentlessly holding back your sounds. he closes his eyes before finally pressing a kiss onto your wet pussy.
“ngh—” leaves your lips when he does so, but it’s unsatisfactory—there is, after all, a piece of fabric covering you. you wiggle your hips to indirectly tell him to take them off. “please.”
he takes your panties off and leaves it hanging midway around your thighs. it’s erotic—the sight of it all. you, completely naked, on the bed, with your ex-lover above you, ready to give you the best oral you’ve ever had.
before he dives into your heat, he speaks again. “i didn’t see you as something i was ready to commit too back then.” as if that wouldn’t leave a scar on you, he says it so casually before his lips press against your folds.
his words engrave themselves inside of you, digging an even hollow, and deeper hole of doubt.
your back arches when his tongue intrudes—he swirls inside and out, sucking in both the flesh of your pussy and your leaking juices. it feels amazing, you think, if not for his words it would’ve felt extraordinary.
you can’t bring yourself to moan out his name, not when his words trouble your entire mind. the most you can do is simply moan lewdly. your eyebrows are droopy and your mouth is agape, knuckles white from gripping the sheets too tight and your thighs are trembling.
but nagumo is not close to stopping, he feels your body is rigid from overstimulation but he refuses to stop—not before you’ve come down on him.
he nips, he bites, he sucks, he kisses. he does everything and you feel it all, it’s too much because when you feel the knot getting tighter inside of you, it’s no warning. white goodness comes spilling out of you and directly onto nagumo’s mouth, you don’t expect that you’d be cumming this fast, nor this much.
nagumo leans back, face messy with your cum everywhere. you look down on him, chest heaving with your breathing and your forehead wet with sweat.
you watch as his throat bops down and he has swallowed every speck of your cum. your body trembles with the view, and you physically feel your pussy pulsate when you realize that he has swallowed it. your eyes are half-lidded, legs trembling, and back aching from arching it all the way.
he licks his lips clean of any white goodness before speaking again. “but i have changed with time now, [name].” this time, his voice is low and convincing.
the next thing you hear echoing through the thick walls of the suite is the sound of his belt unbuckling, the metallic click echoes in your ears, making the entire thing seem as though you’re about to unravel a wrapped gift open.
your shoulders wiggle as you try to move back onto the bed’s head rest but nagumo’s hand catches your ankles and he pulls you back in.
“sit on my lap, my love.” his voice is sultry when he asks you, eyebrows droopy and his lips are protruded outwards in a lousy pout. and you’re about to play right into the palm of his hands—your cunt beats and you’re nowhere near resisting him, so you do end up settled on his lap when his pants are off.
your bare thighs come in contact with his own and it feels conflicting—one second you’re about to hop off in denial and the next you’re overtaken with the desire to become one with him. his big hands caress your skin and it feels like you’re about to melt, there is obvious expertise in the way he does so—as if he’s got you all memorized that he knows that this one gesture is what keeps you going.
he talks again, maintaining eye-contact while one of his hands cup your soaking cunt. “i regret everything, [name].” with every word, he slaps your pussy. there is a lewd, perverted sound of squelching when he does so. there’s a smirk on his face when he notices the way you jolt every time his fingers smack against your slopping, dripping wetness.
“everything—” he inserts a finger inside of you, exploring your insides with just the length of his index finger—not even considered fingering, he’s merely preparing you, foreplay. “—including the nights i spent with another.” he chokes out, as if it disgusts him.
he retracts his fingers before looking up at you, “you have my word—nothing happened.” he stares up at you, his posture slump while his hands run down your spine. “i couldn’t let anything happen. you haunt my mind even when i’m with someone else.”
the memory rushes back to trouble you again—nagumo barely comes home to you to spend a night with the company of another woman.
you bite down your lips and you feel pathetic, you’re actually giving him a chance?
“i regret doing it.” he presses his lips against your cheek, trails down to the corner of your lips. “let me make it up to you.”
perhaps it’s the way that you’ve missed him so deeply even after being broken up for three years already that you’re so prone to giving second chances now. but his kisses tell you so: he’s sincere, and honesty creeps in with every kiss he gives you.
he captures your lips in his and that did it for you, you begin to grind against his erection and he does the same, moving his hips against yours in a matched rhythm.
he chuckles lowly when he realizes, “i see you haven’t changed, my love.” there is it again, that damned endearment. “you’re still so… sensitive against me.” he retracts from your lips and he stares in awe at how you’re actively grinding against him with your eyes closed.
its like second-nature by now—the way you know how to make him and yourself feel good all at the same time, because as you’re grinding on him, nagumo’s lips are in between his teeth, trying his best to keep the sounds to himself. his eyes are shut close and when you put your hand on his shoulders, only then does he open them.
he places both of his hands around your waist, nodding off to you a bit. “hop off.” he tells you but your hips aren’t stopping. nagumo chuckles before gripping tightly against you, “hop off, my love—you’re gonna make me cum with just doing this—ngh—” his hips stutter and without any warning, the tip of his dick is covered in white, sticky cum.
nagumo sighs, leaning back before giving himself a few pumps to ease out the stimulation. he stares back at you with lust-shot eyes, “look at what you did.”
he hops off the bed, goes around to the edge of the mattress before pulling you towards him. with your back against the plush pillows, nagumo inserts two fingers inside of you and the intrusion surprises you. your eyes grow big before both of your hands come to cover your mouth, muffled moans exiting lowly against them.
his speed does not falter, he props one hand next to your head and he leans down to bring your tit in his mouth. that got you spiraling, your trembling and your strength leaves your body—hands loosely flinging back to the side of your head where they gripped on the sheets.
“fuck—yoichi—ah!” you moan out. finally, he thinks, you’ve started yelling out his name again. you shut your eyes close before taking his head in your hands and pulling him in to give him a kiss, he obliges almost immediately, lips moulding into you like he’s some sort of key to your lock.
he retracts his fingers out of your pussy, and the next thing you feel is anything but empty. because you’re now so full of him, his dick fits perfectly inside of you. he’s big, and you can feel the veins against your walls and his tip hits your peak like it’s nothing—like he’s made for it, he’s made for you.
there’s a lewd expression on your face, tongue out and lips swollen when nagumo leans away and his speed picks up. your tits bounce and your torso is rigid when the knot begins to form.
nagumo knows you best—he has your body committed to his memory, and god has forsaken him when you two weren’t together because there was no way he could enjoy sex with any other woman without the vision of your body making its way to haunt his mind.
“i see you clearly now, my love.” his last few thrusts are hard, and you cry out a moan of his name when you reach your high. “let me have you again, please.” he’s desperate, and you know that because when his cum spills right inside of you, tears leave his eyes too.
