nagumo yoichi x reader; 1.175.
tending to injury. medieval au. mention of blood, wounds, needles. pining. nagumo once again never being honest. sfw.
➸ @nagumoan's event: nagumo week 2026.
Nagumo Yoichi had arrived less than half an hour ago.
Terrible manners, for he had not knocked. Though, what could you expect of a mercenary who knew not how to conform to any propriety unless it served his purpose? The latch had lifted, the door had opened without so much as your leave as he had leaned against the frame with an impossible smile, one hand pressed firmly to his side over the steadily darkening stain spreading beneath his fingers.
"Evening," he had said, as though he merely stopped by to borrow one of the ointments you were forever insisting he carry with him.
The fool had laughed when he nearly collapsed.
And now he sat there, his armour—mismatched, you had once expected; harmonious, you had ultimately discovered—stripped piece by piece and laid out across the drying rack. It was strange, you had always thought, how armour fashioned from so many different hands could somehow fit him so naturally. Less assembled, and more like it was inherited.
With one elbow propped against the wood of your table, he watched you work with idle interest whilst the heat of the hearth warmed your back. The room smelt faintly of alcohol and dried lavender, barely keeping out the tang of blood. Boiled bandages stacked beside you as your needle pierced his torn flesh with all the patience you could muster.
The blade had missed his bone—a mercy onto itself, entering just beneath his ribs, carving a narrow path through flesh before slipping free again. But the wound was dirty; whoever had wielded it knew to make the wound troublesome, and did not care whether fever and inflammation would overtake the mercenary sitting in front of you, or the lasting effects of its blood loss would.
He, on the other hand, seemed remarkably unconcerned.
"You would be well advised to hold still or else you will find my needle piercing you in places you would rather not find something sharp in," you muttered, hand flattening against his abdomen to keep him still.
His skin was warm, hot even, and with a look to your drawn in eyebrows and the worry reflected in your eyes, he just smiled, "I am."
"You have moved three times already."
Another move; his shoulders to shrug and you cast a disapproving look. "What can I say? I do enjoy keeping my physicians on their toes."
"I am not a physician."
"Then, all the more reason to learn, hm?"
You pulled the thread through with perhaps a touch more force than was strictly necessary, and a half-hearted hiss escaped him, sharp and pointed, and not for one second as believable as he tried to make it out.
"Oh, you are not a child. You have had worse, Sir Mercenary."
"Cute that you should still call me that. My days as a knight I have long since given up. Nothing more than theatrics to my name. I would grace you with a flourishing bow if a certain apothecary did not insist on keeping their greedy fingers on me. Alas—"
You tied another stitch off. "Who hurt you?"
There was a singular moment of silence as the fire shifted behind you with a soft crackle and the rain outside begged to be let in, and your fingers lingered a moment longer than necessary. The wound lay just beneath your hands, but the heat of him seemed to spread far beyond it, close enough now that each measured breath lifted his chest beneath your knuckles.
"Aw, shame; and here I thought if I talked, it would keep you from asking questions."
"I am asking questions."
He did not answer immediately, just simply watched you. There was always something peculiarly disarming about the way he looked at people; not a stare and not a glance. It almost felt invasive and so your eyes remained fixated on to the muscles that ought to be straining and weren't.
"Different ones." Another moment of silence, and you wondered whether he considered to misdirect you as he had done in the past, "Like how I got into this mess."
You paused long enough to glance at him, to watch the way his eyes seemed to absorb the light from the hearth as though there resided a seemingly endless abyss within them. He did not have any decency to hesitate at your pointed look, and a corner of his mouth lifted. "Terrible luck."
"And so was getting stabbed?"
His face lit with an immediate enthusiasm as though you had finally asked the question he had been waiting for and his eyes caught the firelight once more. "Oh no, that part was entirely recreational."
"… Recreational."
"You see," he continued, entirely pleased with himself, "Making quick of other people has become a bit of a drag. Thought it would be more interesting to give your heart reason to quicken for me."
You had long since stopped trying to understand whether the continuous smile on his face was because he genuinely found the world amusing or because it was simply easier than being honest, but you were not like him—not in the business of lying, not in the business of hiding yourself.
"It already did. I would rather you not make a habit of it or else my heart will refuse to rest at all."
You had watched him appear in your doorway pale beneath the light, and your heart had thundered within your chest, an unbidden fear squeezing it tight for one dreadful moment you had wondered whether he had arrived too late. You did not know what you would have done, what towns you would have set ablaze—
He grew quieter, less triumphant, and for a moment he seemed uncertain what ought to come next. His lips parted, and then closed again.
"… Well," he said at last, a faint laugh escaping him as though to smooth over whatever had momentarily caught within his throat. "I suppose that means I succeeded."
"It is inconvenient, Sir Mercenary," your hand remaining on his abdomen had no intention to move, despite the dressing of the wound waiting on you. "I have invested too much thread in you, and it is expensive. I would dislike wasting it, so—"
His fingers came to run over your knuckles, pressing each of your own tips of fingers closer to his flesh, keeping your touch right there as though to drink greedily from a fountain that offered very little, "I didn't know your affection was measured in coin. I will be prepared for next time, love."
"You misunderstand; you owe me three bottles of alcohol, two salves, six rolls of linen and one night's sleep—"
"Of course, of course."
You tried to pull away your hand, and he caught it just as easily, roughened palm from the grip on his swords, "You do not believe me."
"I do." Another one of those impossible smiles, the lie as sweet on his tongue as the heat trapped underneath your skin and the endearment burying itself in the hollow between your ribs.
have i posted this ? idk, it’s been in my drafts - i could have posted this on one of my alts so if you’ve seen it before you’ve found my other blog 😅 anyways, i missed you guys and felt like posting. it’s hard to write properly so i’m fishing through old works until i get my shit together.
natsuki has an iron-tight grip on your hips, the flesh plump and soft beneath his fingers. the grasp he has on you centres him to reality, while his tongue is busy bringing him to cloud nine between your thighs. his eyes flick up, meeting with yours for a moment. your lashes flutter, lips parting to hiss out a demand. you’re as bratty as ever. it has nastsuki moaning against your cunt, tongue lapping over your folds before pushing against your entrance again. you let out a whine, hands flying to grip at his hair. fingers tightly intertwined with his shaggy locks, you tug natsuki’s head closer, driving his tongue further into you. another breathy sound escapes your lips, and you can’t help but squeeze your eyes shut. he’s relentless, lapping at your folds like it’s his job.
“natsuki,” you drawl, hips grinding against his face. your fingers tighten against his hair, practically playing with him like a ragdoll. natsuki just sighs, sounding almost content. his own hands move, digits fidgeting with the pretty, obnoxious frills on your skirt before slithering down to prod against your hole. he’d attempt to pull back, but your hold on him is keeping him captive. the grin that spreads over his lips tells you that he’s perfectly happy as he is now. natsuki hums, pressing a wet, sloppy kiss to the mix of cum and saliva between your thighs. his finger slips into the mess, followed by another while the man nibbles on your thigh. “haah— right there!” you help, hips squirming against him. natsuki hums knowingly, absoloutley revelling in your demeanour. you may be an entitled woman, but you’re nothing more than putty under his tongue and his fingers.
“mhm?” the man chuckles breathily, slender digits moving diligently inside of you. it’s quite easy, thanks to him. ugh, he’s so cocky sometimes. it nearly makes you question if he’s more confident than you, but you have no time to ponder on that— because it’s not long before natsuki’s sucking on your clit, and the knot in your abdomen tightens impossibly more. “y’gonna cum?” natsuki purrs, heavy-lidded eyes lifting to look up at you. examining your expression. you can only nod, your previously persistent grasp on his hair loosening slightly. natsuki’s fingers quicken their pace, and it takes you a few more seconds to come undone. the man laps up your juices like it’s a meal, fingers helping you through the orgasm.
the two of you stay like that for a few moments, heavy breaths and whimpered sighs. natsuki shifts, lifting his body over yours.
“you good?” he questions, leaning down to press a kiss to your shoulder. his hand slips out from your thighs, moving up to rub over your waist.
“yeah, whatever.” you grumble, tilting your head to catch his lips in a kiss. you hate him, but you think you love him more.
nagumo yoichi x reader; 631.
forced proximity. breaking and entering. unethical usages of libraries. flirting. mutual pining. sfw.
➸ @nagumoan's event: nagumo week 2026.
Mayhap not the root of all evil, but certainly the root of all inconvenience undoubtedly would harbour Nagumo Yoichi.
The space you were trapped in—an alcove that could not have been more than four feet wide, the shelves having collapsed in response to his pestering you—belonged to the monastery's library.
"It is a storehouse of all their memories and all their teachings. Everything they have ever thought worth preserving ends up here: artefacts, all the books your heart could desire. Manuscripts, genealogies, even some music notations if you wish to serenade me," he had said to persuade you to get you to scale down the outer wall under the cover of dusk with him; a knowing look over his shoulder, "They keep everything."
He had been right, for it had worked. Bewitched for the rare opportunity to walk amongst centuries of careful retention of history, to read what few hands had ever been permitted to touch—a certain perversion in the eagerness caressing your perception, and he knew it; always had known exactly which temptation to place before you.
And now, predictably, half the monastery was looking for the cause of the crash whilst you were afforded little dignity.
One of your knees was drawn awkwardly against your chest, whilst Nagumo had somehow folded himself into the opposite corner with an ease that was maddening; the toe of his boot caught beneath the hem of your cloak beneath your legs. Every breath brought the front of his coat brushing faintly against yours as outside voices drifted from two corridors over.
A tilt of his head as he listened, "I think that's the same guard who—"
You sent him a sharp look through the clouded moonlight, warning and betrayal alike, and in response: the brief glint of teeth.
"—keeps clearing his throat. Oh, don't look so annoyed with me. It almost makes me want to—"
A hiss escaped you before you could stop it, sharp whispers, "Shut up, idiot. They'll hear us!"
"I can't make it out," he murmured, altogether too pleased, too jovial about the outcome of events, "but I know you are blushing right now."
"I am not."
"You are."
"It starts here," Two gloved fingers lifted, brushing lightly along the curve of your cheek until they settled beneath your eye; the touch so absurdly gentle and fleeting, the warm leather suddenly entirely too cool on an even warmer skin. "And then—"
The words had barely left his mouth before another voice echoed somewhere closer; much, much closer. Undeterred, there was a glint in his eyes and he drew breath to continue, when you reached for him without thinking to press your hand over his mouth, dissolving the words right at your flesh.
Footsteps receded, their speaking growing more distant, and he laughed, muffled. Feeling it against your palm as his shoulders shook once, the warm breath gathering against the centre of your hand before slipping away between your fingers in amused exhalations and your pulse stumbled for reasons you refused to name.
His knee had wedged in between yours, realising far too late that he was keeping you upright; the fabric of his leather gloves smooth on your skin, his other ended up against the wall just beside your waist. Warmth trapped between you and your traitorous body noticing it all when he leaned closer.
The cloud passed by, and within the illumination, there it was. The familiar mischief dancing in the dark depths of his gaze, yes, but beneath it—that, which you looked forward to seeing: something quieter and something searching, as though he, too, had only just realised how impossibly close the two of you had become.
And then, his eyes smiled at you with an unmistakable delight that you had to look away.
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
haiaiai i LOVE your writing, can i pls request asakura shin x reader? Like reader who regularly visits the shop to buy stuff and small chats until it grew more than that? Plsplsplsslsl i’ll take anything u give me of asakura shin
౨ৎ SHIN ASAKURA : You and Only You
ʚɞ ،، ⤿your eyes are like poetry, your lips are so sugary, you're all together, wonderful to behold ``
⋆˚౨Shin Asakura x gn! Readerৎ
˚. ᵎᵎ contains: fluff, frequent interactions turned into long conversations that formed a feeling that didn't happen with customers at the local convenience store
(aaa thank you so much!! Sorry that i took a while!!! )
•ᴗ• IF FALLING for the cashier at the local convenience store was a challenge, Sakamoto would obviously take first place. Though, if falling for the customer at the local convenience store as the cashier was a challenge, Shin would be the one setting history.
Love at first sight? Ridiculous. That's what Shin used to think. Until the first time he saw you walk in, with something already in mind. And from then on, an energy drink has been placed on the counter ever since then each time you walk in. The same flavor and brand each time.
It seemed absurd that Shin already had a massive crush on you despite the only words he has ever said to you being standard customer and cashier conversations. He took note of whatever small things you shared about your life. Your name being the only thing on his mind most of the time.
Was it ridiculous to say he wanted just a bit more than that?
"You're switching it up today?" He didn't know what compelled him to peel away from his usual silence. Maybe it was the opportunity of seeing a different flavored energy drink that you usually don't choose.
He must've startled you as he saw you look at him with wide eyes before answering. "Oh, yes, there wasn't anymore of the one I usually get so I settled on the next best one." You simply smiled and he could already feel the heat rising to his face.
"Sorry about that, hopefully we'll have it restocked for you soon," Shin laughed, knowing he'd go hunt down that drink for you if you so much as asked. With the simple beep from the payment going through, you took your drink off the counter. Yet, he noticed you slightly hesitate as you looked back up.
"Could I get your number?"
It was almost embarrassing how fast he typed his number into your phone. It was almast embarrassing how fast he typed his number into your phone.
The small talk turned into longer conversations with Shin being so lost on you, he had to snap his attention back.
He would fight to be the one at the register when you would walk in right before work shoving Lu and Heisuke out the way. Aoi would giggle at Shin's antics, seeing strange similarities in the way him and Sakamoto went about their love life.
Shin was sweeping the floors and just like always, he could already sense your presence."Honesty it's surprising your heart is still beating after an energy drink everyday." As the fridge door closed, Shin had a small smile on his face with the broom clenched in his hands. You laughed at his comment, lightly shaking your head. "Right? l'm suprised too."
What followed after was silence as he cleared his throat, trying to lean against the fridge door. "So...could I take you out on a date sometime?"
This time it was your turn to be embarrassed at how fast you agreed to him..
@kkuka 's works﹒banners by —﹒images from Pinterest ﹒
⊹ ࣪ ˖ uzuki kei (sakadays) x gn!reader, fallen angel x demon, rion mention.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ written for my kinktober event last year but i got busy and kinda demotivated so this doesn't have the smut nor a definite ending (if u see mistakes or things that don't make sense, no you do not.) sfw, ~1k wc.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ i'll link my other ktober fics (kaji/sako, ngm, nrm) at the end of this post !
Order was absolute in the skies above.
There were established rules and sacred codices. Gods and angels, familiars and slaves. He was one bound to the supreme deities, a messenger of the divine. A medium between the earthly and transcendent realms, Kei firmly believed he would spend the rest of his immortal life being tethered to such duties.
He wonders when exactly did the sky start falling apart at the seams.
Kei once had a good companion. She used to watch over the Earthlings, finding joy in their compassion and resilience. Rion was beautiful, strong, an angel with a fiery soul that burned brighter than the sun. She was fiercely protective over her kin — a trait that he found to be admirable, but sooner became a tad questionable when he noticed it being directed towards her subjects.
Blessings should be bestowed upon the good, and punishments should fall on the wrongdoers.
Rion was too empathetic. She believed humans deserve a second chance.
Then, a chain of divine punishments just happened to be made delayed, and thus the gods' wrath became inevitable.
Kei's blood had nearly turned into solid gold when he'd first seen Rion's lifeless form. He kept telling himself this was all wrong — angels are tied to the heavenly principles, they do not die. He'd tried to speak to his gods, to his fellow angels; Are they not ought to be just? Merciful? Rion definitely didn't have to die just because she felt sorry for some puny little humans.
He began questioning his own beliefs when he realized he was the only one to believe in such a notion, and everybody else turned a blind eye to how corrupted these celestials are. After all, one should not be reasoning with verdicts placed upon by omniscient beings.
Kei's skepticism grew; all the answers he'd received dissatisfied him and he became more reclusive than ever. Before long, those around him started to see his hesitancy as him questioning the gods' will. One thing led to another, and soon enough his divinity was ripped away from him like a mauled bird in the hands of its captor.
・・・・・
Life among mortals didn't come easy for him.
Everything is loud, filthy, the humans obnoxious and boorish. It's all just too much that he'd almost envied those of the deceased. But a few years felt like the blink of an eye for an immortal, and it was enough time for him to get used to things.
The grief lingers in his heart, and Kei still mourns over the passing of Rion. He'd started to lose his feathers, his powers slowly growing weaker as the years went by, and yet along the way he had mastered the art of being ordinary.
It's a little dull, and monotonous, but the change of pace somehow brings a kind of peace to his heart he'd never felt before.
Until you.
Kei knew there are otherworldly creatures residing on Earth — those that do not possess any kind of higher powers, or those that merely exist due to the accumulation of energy from natural causes — he'd stumbled upon them a few times in the years he's been living here. Powers like his own attract these lesser beings, hence he'd learned to conceal his essence as consistently as he is breathing.
He just didn't expect to see another spiritual being from the transcendent realm, and pretty much a juvenile one at that.
The first time he came across you, your scent hit him like a giant boulder thrown at his face. You reeked of something abnormally sweet, tinged with a hint of smoke and ashes. Kei recognized the last two the most. He'd even seen it with his own two eyes; such blistering despair and so punishing he could feel himself getting scorched at the memory itself.
He could feel the traces of destruction. An inferno born from the depths of hell.
Unfortunately for him, you'd acknowledged his being just as quickly as your eyes fell on him. Your spine had tingled then, the pure celestial energy that radiated off him mingling with your own flaming one. For a second, you felt sorry for most of the humans' lack of a third eye, for they would've loved to see the beautiful wings he has. White and untainted just like the snow of his hair, his blue eyes deep as the ocean is calling.
He was beautiful.
Something in you had stirred at the sight of him. Something compulsive. Something malicious.
When you’d heard his voice, you could almost envision how it’d be like when Heaven’s gate opened up — something you’d never seen yourself before. It was mellow, with a certain baritone to it, but the resonance strong enough that you could feel it in your body like a harp melody echoing against marbled walls.
Every syllable he’d uttered to you swirl among the stars; nowhere you should even dare to be, lest your skin singes from the sanctity of his words. At least, in his current state you would.
Does he think the same, you muse.
Does he ever wonder how you could feel his presence as quickly as you did, even when he’d tried so hard to mingle with the mortals. Does he ever realize your being here would stray him further away from everything he’s ever known. One word, one touch, one look.
In a matter of seconds, he could be engulfed in a blazing fire of your greed, your deception — if only you’d manage to get him to forget, to let go of the tethers holding him captive within the wistful memory of his bygone paradise, so you can take, take, and take.
Consume him whole until the last of his transcendence withers away to dust.
Hence, you’d batted your eyelashes at him then, offering only an innocent gesture out of the desire in your heart for chaos.
“Have you ever wanted to kiss a demon before, mister angel?”
Kei had faltered to answer, and another one of his feathers fell off.
