akimoroll

[akimoroll]

May Sarton, from "She Shall Be Called Woman", Selected Poems

[akimoroll]

giving in to the love.

chapter 4. this could be a dream.

chapters: 1 — 2 — 3

nagumo yoichi (sakamoto days) x afab!reader—wc 6.8k—alternate universe—read on ao3

cw—mentions of abuse and death. alcoholism. smoking. fluff. angst. aged up characters with highschool flashbacks. eventual smut. pwp. pwf. please MDNI!

But if I touch you, would you feel it there?

Could I trust love even if I'm scared?

Oh, I wish I could give like I'm longing to give

Oh, I wish I could live like I'm longing to live

And I lift myself and I close my eyes

And I sing sometimes to know I'm alive

I know I should figure this out on my own

But if you come by, could you take me home?

You found yourself slowly waking up in an unfamiliar space, with the sun still low partially filtering through the white curtains. As you lazily roamed areas your eyes could reach, you become aware of the scent of faint chlorine and fresh laundered fabric filling the air of the bleak looking room you’re in. Overwhelmed by grogginess and aching throughout your whole body, you drifted back to sleep.

Gradually, the soft rays of sunshine became harsher and crept through the gap in the curtains, waking you once more. You fluttered your eyes open and winced both at the brightness and the pounding in your head. As you forced yourself to sit up, you could feel the discomfort of the situation. Your mind slowly pieced together what had transpired—

Where’s Rion?

And the car?

Mom’s going to be so mad.

What happened?

Did we get hit?

Where is—

A nurse entered the room, interrupting your thoughts. Upon seeing you awake, they called for the doctor. They described what took place and how fortunate you were to miraculously sustain only minor injuries. When you asked them about Rion, they didn’t disclose detailed information, but they did tell you that she had already passed away.

What? No way.

No.

“I think you made a mistake. Can you please check her name again?”

“I’m completely fine so she’s also okay, right?”

“I think you got it all wrong. Can I please go see her?”

While they provided nothing but empathy and understanding regarding your circumstances, your mom was an exception. It’s as if she cared more about the car and all the expenses in between.

After being discharged from the hospital, you made the decision not to return to school. With the weight of guilt and self-blame, attending school seemed unbearable. Your mother had already blamed you for the accident, so what was the point? You were sure that everyone in school thought the same thing too.

But not Aoi. She went over to your house and didn’t tag anyone along for fear of making you uncomfortable.

Ms. Satoda kept calling your mom but she never answered them.

It was an accident, it wasn’t your fault. Don’t listen to them.

You’re gonna be fine. Just try coming to school tomorrow.

And so you did but you were back to your old ways. Your everyday life became monotonous once again—wake up, school, home, sleep, repeat.

Yet on Valentines day, a surprise shook you from your routine.

“What’s this?” You confronted Nagumo in the empty basketball gym with a chocolate heart box in your hand and a note saying he’d wait for you after class.

“Chocolates?” He answered in a quizzical voice.

You found it in your locker before heading home. He hasn’t talked to you since the accident—not that you wanted him either—and you thought: Is this some kind of sick joke?

You let out an empty chuckle, “I know what it is. Why?”

He didn’t know how to approach you after what happened. He was aware of it being a delicate matter and was scared to push you away if he said or did the wrong thing. He hoped to talk to you and thought it would be nice to do it on the said day. And oh boy, was he wrong.

Apologetic, he said, “For valentines. I was hoping to talk to—”

“Valentines? Are you serious?” You interrupted him, “Can you stop it already?”

His eyebrows furrowed, “I’m sorry, I just thought—”

“You thought what? That everything’s gonna be okay with just chocolate?” You retorted, raising an eyebrow.

He sighed, “That’s not what that is—”

“Then what, Nagumo? What do you want?”

“I don’t want anything. Just-” sighing, he clenched his jaw, “I’m worried, you know I care about you.”

“Oh, stop it, will you? You’re supposed to hate me!” You raised your voice.

Pinching his lips together, “I can’t do that.”

“What do you mean you can’t? Rion died because of me! Are you stupid?!” You hissed.

“That’s not true. It was an accident.” He hissed back.

You scoffed, “You know nothing!”

He raised both his hands, “Alright fine, maybe I don’t know anything!” In a pleading tone, he said, “But can’t you just let me be here for you? I lost her too!”

And it feels like you’re next—is what he couldn’t say.

As hurt and guilt consumed you, your voice quieted, “All the more reason for you to leave me alone.”

He closed his eyes in regret, he stepped closer, “Listen, I’m sorry…” but you backed away.

“No,” you shake your head, averting his gaze, “you should stay away from me. It’s for the best.”

His shoulders slumped and it’s as if you took his heart with you as he watched your retreating figure grow farther and farther away until you were out of sight.

┊┊┊

Nagumo takes you to his place. You were hesitant at first but he said he’s home alone for a week, and you thought having company isn’t so bad so you went along. You reflect on the irony of the situation and couldn't help but find it funny. Here you were, sitting next to each other, burying your faces in bowls of spicy instant ramen—his attempt to make you feel better and it worked because it’s the best you’ve had in a while, sharing it with someone deeply familiar, feeling a sense of belonging, even if it was only temporary.

��This is so good, I’ve never tried this brand before,” you say with a mouthful of noodles.

He nods, grinning as he slurps his bowl clean, clearly enjoying it as much as you. He leans back on his chair, pushing back his bangs off his sweaty forehead.

Completely unaware of his gaze, you continue to eat with yours half full. As you raise the chopsticks to your lips, a few strands of your hair fall and almost dipped into the bowl. He leans forward after noticing it, his hand gently tucking the hair behind your ear. You paused and glanced at him as the moment hung in the air.

Clearing his throat, “Your hair was…do you want to watch a movie after this?” He blurts out, not knowing what to say exactly.

You open your mouth and close it again, squinting, “It’s 2 AM, aren’t you sleepy?”

He ponders, humming, “Not really. So, yes?”

“Do you really want me to pass out on your couch?” You joked and proceeded to finish your noodles.

He chuckles as he continues to watch you, itching to play with hair. He could smell you every time you moved, wondering if it’s your shampoo or perfume, taking him back to when he sat beside you at the pub and when he kissed the top of your hair back in his car.

Curious, he asks, “Are you wearing perfume?”

You look over your shoulder, pausing to think, “I am,” telling him exactly what it is, feeling good that he noticed, “Why?”

He nods as he makes a mental note. You smell edible, is what he wanted to say. He internally shakes his head, “It suits you.”

Your cheeks start heating up, you look away, “It’s my first time wearing it,” you go back to finishing your food.

He couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction after learning you were wearing it for the first time—a silent claim, as if it’s a hidden part of you revealed to him alone.

You lean back on the chair as you glance at him with a satisfied smile, “Thanks for the meal.”

He catches a whiff again, unintentionally wetting his lips. He looks at you and then down to your lips, he taunts, “Your lips are puffy.”

With a lighthearted chuckle, you retort, “Yours too.”

He didn’t answer as he locked eyes with you and in that brief moment he had an inexplicable urge to be closer to you. He looks away, humming in response as he leans forward with his elbows on the table with eyes far away, rubbing his lips with his fingers.

You watch him. He hasn’t changed at all—he’s still a bit annoying with his constant boyish smile. Your eyes trail from his flowy hair to his nape, down to his strong looking shoulders and his evident toned back despite the thick fabric of his sweater. Well, maybe a little. He still slouches though. You smile inwardly.

“I should get going,” you say softly while still looking at him.

He turns to face you, resting his cheek on his palm, “Already?”

“I wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome.”

You would've stayed if it was solely up to you, but he has grown increasingly silent. Maybe he’s tired?

“Do you want me to drive you?”

“I’ll just hail a cab,” you reassure him.

He doesn’t answer and instead gives you a wistful smile while his fingertips tap on the table. After a long pause, he stands and saunters through the living room to fetch your bag and your coat next to his on the couch.

You trail after him to the foyer, suddenly feeling the urge to ask him what’s wrong, “It was nice seeing you,” you managed to say instead.

He looks over his shoulder before turning around to face you fully, answering you with a mere nod as he stands by the door.

You swallow, he’s still so quiet, “Did I say something wrong?”

He chuckles, his eyes glossy, “No, you’re fine.��� he shakes his head a little. Swallowing the lump in his throat, “It was nice seeing you too,” he continued.

The silence feels awkward and uncomfortable as you stand motionless, as if unsure of what to do next. You know you should be putting on your shoes and leaving, but your mind is elsewhere.

Your thoughts race as you desperately try to recall if there was something you said that might have hurt him. The thought of parting ways with him again on a negative note gnaws at you.

There’s a lump in your throat all of sudden.

When I pass through this door, I’ll never see him again.

Closure? Are you stupid?

I already apologized.

Him being married is closure enough.

I’m the only one stuck in the past.

Don’t say it. Don’t say it!

“Are you okay?” He asks, snatching you away from your thoughts.

Your eyes shot up to his face with concern written all over it. You swallow and blurted out, “I missed you.”

He solemnly smiles at you, “Hey,” shaking his head slightly before speaking, “You know you shouldn’t say stuff like that to me.”

Why am I like this? Embarrassed, you stammer as you avoid his gaze, “No, you’re right. Sorry, I was just-”

He exhaled deeply before speaking again, “Took you long enough.”

Dumbfounded, you glance up to him: Huh?

His gaze softens, “I missed you too,” he exhaled while looking up before he settled his eyes on you, “You still wanna go?”

His question lingered in the air, the weight of its implications hanging heavily between you.

“Yes,” you utter quietly.

He nods with a tight lipped smile. As his hand reaches for your shoes from the shoe rack, you continue, “…with you.”

He stops in his tracks, slowly turning to face you. His heart pounds in his chest as he begins to comprehend the meaning behind your words. As his eyes locked onto yours, he saw a subtle plea painted on your face.

Those two simple words from you were enough to make him rush towards you. He drops all your belongings to the floor, dismissing all boundaries that had once separated the two of you.

You froze with your eyes wide open but you didn't pull away this time. Instead, you open up to him, letting go of all restraints and fears. You closed your eyes and parted your lips willingly as he poured himself to you.

As your hands extend towards him, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He leans down and encircles his arms around your waist, lifting you off the floor as he kisses you tenderly, leaving you breathless.

He guides you across the hall to his bedroom with your feet lightly shuffling backwards. His lips remain attached to yours, holding you tightly against him, almost as if he’s afraid to let you go, terrified of the thought of losing you once again. To finally be able to hold you—to taste you—is the feeling that he’s longed for.

Your gasp echoes in the room as your back meets the softness of his bed, your hair splaying across the sheets. His mind goes into a haze as he looks at you, the feeling of longing overwhelming him.

He drinks the sight of you—breathless, on his bed, waiting and only for him. You feel vulnerable under his gaze, a look you’ve never seen from him before. Your lips were glistening from his doing. He wants more, every single part of you. Everything.

Desire starts pooling inside you as he takes off his sweater. Tattoos that were once hidden now come to surface. It takes you back to earlier that evening when you saw the ones on his neck and fingers, wondering if there were more.

As the soft light filters through his windows, you allow your eyes to wander the details on his body, his chest heaving, the contours of his toned muscles and the veins snaking around his forearms. He’s gorgeous and it’s making your head spin.

He hovers over you as he kisses you, all lips and tongue, and oh so slow as his touch becomes desperate, hands claiming everything he could reach. All mine, he thought.

He takes his sweet time savoring you as if the world outside the room you’re in doesn’t exist, like nothing else matters. Only the gentle sounds of your kissing and fabric rustling filled his dimly lit room, and only you on his mind.

Your fingers trace along the muscles of his back, making his hairs raise. He moans into your mouth as his senses heightened, he wants more of your touch, more of you.

He puts his hands gently at the back of your head and around your waist as his strong arms effortlessly lifts you further up the bed.

He halts the kiss, his absence intensified your craving for him. You miss him already.

His fingers find the hem of your sweater and with a subtle motion, you shift, allowing him to slip your sweater over your head. He tosses it to the side, he feels his knees getting weak with you all soft and exposed with just your lacey bra beneath him, “You’re an angel,” he breathes.

Feeling shy, you covered your face with a pillow, “Stop it,” your voice soft and quiet.

He smiles and takes the pillow from your grasp, his fingers brushing against your own. It’s true, you’re perfect, he whispered before claiming your lips once more.

He places gentle kisses all over your face, making you giggle. He loved the sound so much that he starts nipping at your earlobes to hear more, he laughs with you. He trails wet kisses from your jaw to your neck as he catches a whiff of your perfume—inhaling and sighing against your skin.

You shudder under his touch as his large hands worked quickly to unhook your bra, setting your tits free. He buries his face against your chest with careful hands caressing them. His tongue skimming past your hardened nipples as he savors every needy whimper from you. Your whole body is tingling, you arch your back from anticipation. You’re dying for more and he knows.

He smirks against your flushed skin as you grab a fistful of his hair. Always so impatient, he teases while looking at you. A pathetic whine is all you could manage as his mouth finally closed around your nipples, suckling and swirling his tongue around it as if he wanted to swallow you entirely.

You shudder as he groans onto your tits, making you squeeze your legs together. You’re so sensitive, you writhed with every little thing his tongue does to you. He bites and flicks his tongue over it, making you gasp as heat builds up inside you.

You knot your hands to his hair, pulling him into a sloppy, desperate kiss, begging breathily: Yoichi, please.

I know—he whispers in between kisses—I’ll take care of you.

Hearing the aching in your voice, he pulls away, his trembling hands reaching for your pants, peeling it off with ease.

Your mind lifts as he runs his hand slowly over the lace of your panties. His fingers brushing over your clothed clit as his mouth circles around your nipples once again, you shudder.

His breath fans against the skin of your chest, hot and shaky. He hooks his fingers over the damp cloth of your panties, pulling it to the side. He’s so slow about it, making you moan—hurry.

His heart hammers in his chest, murmuring and hushing you, I’m here.

And then finally—his fingers brush between your folds, so warm, so wet just for him.

He presses his fingers onto your swollen clit as you buck your hips while your hands grip onto his forearm, begging him to move.

And move is what he does—fingers brushing and pressing all over your wet pussy, turning you into a whining mess.

His hand leaves you as he puts his fingers inside his mouth—licking and sucking your wetness—just to bring it back between your thighs, smearing his spit all over your cunt.

Dark brown half lidded eyes watching you intently as he slowly inserts one—your mouth drops open. He stretches you, with his finger for the first time. Slowly sinking deeper and deeper. You clench around him as he pushes it all the way inside.

I can’t wait to fuck you, he murmur, his thumb pressing circles over your clit. He curls his finger inside you, hitting the right spots, eliciting sweet sounds from you.

And then he adds another, your legs start to tense.

Fuck—is all you could whimper.

Soon, he smirks before claiming your lips. His kisses become sloppy as it trailed down to your chest, his lips all over you—moaning against your skin—as his desire grows more for you.

The knot in your lower abdomen tightens as wet sounds from your pussy and your labored breathing fills his quiet room. Your fingers cards through his hair as his digits curl, pushing in and out of your dripping wet cunt, making a mess on his bedsheets.

…feels so good. So good.

Your voice is so sweet, telling him you’re so close to cumming, making his already hard cock pulse in his pants.

He’s so good with his hands, you could feel yourself trembling, clamping on his fingers inside of you. He watches you intently, anticipating for you to unravel for him but you pull him into a desperate kiss as you feel the tension snap. He moans with you as he finger fucks you through your orgasm, pleasure rolling all over you.

He makes you cum for the first time and he’s barely even done anything. He keeps his eyes on you as yours flutters while he bites lightly at your lower lip, continuously gasping into his mouth.

He places soft kisses on your forehead as your body starts to calm down, cooing, you’re lovely, and other sweet nothings. He pulls his coated fingers out from you, making you gasp and clench around nothing. He licks and sucks on it, tasting your juices as he lays beside you. He lets you rest.

You turn your head to meet his gaze. He’s still the same Yoichi; still so patient and always willing to care for you. Your heart swells when he looks back at you with affection. It’s pathetic. Almost comical how you’ve pushed him away, afraid of the implications you might cause if you stay. Just for you to crawl back to him years later, a familiar place, seeking for a different outcome—knowing full well you shouldn’t.

“Let me take care of you too,” you say softly.

You don’t wait for him to answer as you sit up on the bed, reaching for his face. You brush away the hairs sticking on his forehead.

“You don’t have to,” he murmurs with his hand playing with the tips of your hair.

“But I want to,” you whisper, caressing his bulge. You lean forward and kiss him softly.

He let out a sharp breath when you move between his thighs, his eyebrows furrowing to the gentle and suggestive touch over his clothed cock. He struggles to maintain his composure, the sensation causing his body to tense slightly.

Your fingers work the belt free from the loops as his breathing grows heavier. The clink of the buckle hitting the floor echoes through the space. Slowly, teasingly, you lower the zipper, revealing the straining bulge beneath.

His hips twitch involuntarily, seeking more of your touch. Desire washed over you at how desperate he already is, you want to make him feel so good.

Hooking on the waistband, you tug his pants and boxers down in a smooth motion. His erection springs free making your mouth water. He’s big, you swallow.

You wrap your trembling fingers around the base as you slowly stroke his cock, making him shudder from the warmth of your palm. He’s so hard for you.

His eyes—usually so intent and focused—begin fluttering shut, his breathing becomes shallow and you haven’t done anything yet. You spit messily on the tip of his dick. He inhales sharply as you smear it all over, making his abs flex under your palm, rippling every time he breathes.

He’s lost it, mind ascending as you swallow up his cock—slowly, all the way. The tip of your nose hits his pelvis as he twitches inside your throat. You glance up at him as you gag on him balls deep.

As you keep your eyes on him, he drinks the sight of you: Who else…? His brows knit as his mind starts to cloud with jealousy and overwhelming desire. He’s far gone, murmuring your name, slurring curses under his breath. He reaches for your hand that's caressing his abdomen, intertwining it with his.

His whimpers and groans vibrated throughout the room, moaning from the soft, wet flesh of your cheeks and tongue. You pull back all the way, only for you to swallow him whole again, licking all over the tip in between. His dick buried in your mouth, bobbing your head again and again, and again.

He promptly sits up as he pulls you to him, making you gasp. He doesn’t want to cum, not yet. Strong arms guiding you to straddle him as he kisses you with desperation, bringing your bodies closer together. His fingers tugs on the waistband of your panties.

Let me taste you.

He murmured, motioning you to sit on his face. He’s aching to taste you, to make you cum again. You obey as you take off your panties with him helping you. He reaches for your hands as he reclines back on the bed, helping you move up a little.

Your legs tremble as you plant your knees on the mattress, your dripping wet pussy hovering over his face. He nods to you with pleading eyes, asking you to go lower with hands caressing your hips—come here.

You nod as you grip onto the bed’s headboard, lowering yourself to his face. He places sweet wet kisses on the inside of your thighs, making you shudder as you clench to nothing. The heat of your pussy finally touched his lips. You’re so sweet, pretty, and wet from earlier when he fucked you with just his hands.

He knows you’re still sensitive so he glances up to you as he gently licks your slit, teasing you, too light, like kitten licks, a whimper escapes your lips—more—making his dick twitch from the sweetness of your voice. Adamant to make you feel good, he glides his tongue all over your clit adding a little pressure this time, you shudder, your legs trembling.

So wet, he murmurs. He could bathe in your wetness, your pussy dripping for him. You let go as he gestures to you to sit all the way, wanting to drown in your pretty pussy. You whine as you press yourself onto his face.

He repeatedly runs his tongue over your clit as you gradually relax yourself—mewling and bucking your hips while you ride his face. As you get louder and louder, his dick gets harder. He’s making a mess out of you as he sucks on your clit in between flicks of his tongue, your juices dripping down his chin.

He glances up to you, slowly taking your hands from the headboard as he guides you to place them over your tits. He places his hands on top of your own as you begin touching yourself. Every ounce of shame and guilt leaves your body—everything feels so good.

A smile creeps in while he watches you, almost making him cum with the thought of you using him—murmuring how he makes you feel good, how you’re so close.

He stills his tongue out as you move your hips back and forth with his hands sliding down your waist, squeezing the softness of your skin, moaning into your pussy, encouraging you to keep going.

Your whines become needy, grinding on his tongue becomes messy. He aches for it. He wants nothing more than for him to be the reason for your undoing. A couple of more rolls of your hips, a couple flicks of his tongue, the knot in your abdomen finally snap. You shudder, riding his face as you come undone for him, making him rut into nothing.

He grips on your waist to pin you in place. He keeps sucking and licking—he’s drinking you, as if wringing every drop from you while you clench around nothing. You gasp from being oversensitive, your whole body tingling.

He pulls you down, flipping you onto your back, pinning you beneath his larger frame—his kiss so hungry and demanding. You moan into it as you taste yourself on his lips while he’s grinding his dick against your sensitive cunt, you cover him with your wetness. He can’t wait to make you feel even better; to make a mess out of you.

You wrap your arms and legs around him, he’s feverishly hot to the touch. He breaks away from the kiss, his weight suspended over you. You lean into his touch as he palms your cheek, his eyes searching your face, panting: Tell me you want me like I want you.

His voice is throaty, shaky, desperate. Eyes so eager and intense it could pierce right through you. He looks so lovesick that it almost hurts.

I want you, Yoichi.

Please, I need you—you choke on your sob.

He could almost feel himself ascending with the way you’re begging him, the feeling of you wanting him, offering yourself so willingly. He doesn’t want to keep you waiting, he’s dying to be inside you anyway. He pulls away a little, his hand dwarfing your waist, the other holding his dick to tease your entrance with his tip.

His precum mixes with your wetness as you lift your hips—bucking and aching for more of him. He stays like that for a while with his hands spreading your legs wide open.

Look at you, he murmurs. You swear you can almost see the hearts swimming in his eyes with the way he’s looking at you, you could cry. If only, you thought. He’s gonna give it to you, pour himself to you—all of it. All of me, he thinks. He was yours from the start anyway, even though he knows after all this you’re gonna run away like you always do.

You wrap your fingers around his cock, he shudders as you squeeze it, gliding your palms back and forth, hard and throbbing in your hands. He watches you with mouth slightly open, keeping his eyes focused, tracking your hand on him, exhaling, “Fuck—”

“I need you, hurry,” you beg breathlessly.

His brows furrowed as he moves lower, you hold onto his arms as he slides his cock from your clit to your entrance—gathering his precum and your wetness—fucking you through your folds. His breaths become fast and heavy, eyes locked on your pussy wide open for him.

He stops, he’s about to finally do it, and you can feel it. He slaps his length lightly over your swollen clit a couple of times, making you gasp. He pushes it in, slowly, just the tip. You look into each other’s eyes as you moan at the same time. He’s filling you up, stretching your walls. He’s going to make love to you—for the very first time—and you will take it; you will let him.

He shudders, breath shaky and heavy—Fuck, you’re so wet—slurring his words.

You clench on his dick as he pushes in further, he’s so snug inside you, so fucking hard for you. All you could do is whimper and hold onto him as you try accomodating to his size.

God, you feel so good. You’re squeezing me—he says, every word soft and airy—making your toes curl on his soft bed sheets—while he pushes his throbbing length deeper and deeper.

Your mouth drops open as he bottoms out, taking him balls deep. He leans closer to you, claiming your lips—sloppy, messy kisses as he pulls his cocks all the way out and thrusts all the way in, you moan into each other’s mouth.

He fucks you a little harder. So good, you fuck so good, you’re slurring your words. Your moans so sweet making him fuck you a litte faster, his cock throbbing inside you, his bedsheets absorbing the wetness gushing from your cunt.

He slows down, pulling away from the kiss. Look at it, he murmurs as you both watch his cock sinking down your dripping pussy. His brows knit with his mouth open as he watches himself move in and out of you—your wetness coating his entire length, creaming at the base—his groans thick with pleasure: Look how you’re taking me.

His hands meet the back of your knees, folding you, spreading your legs open for him. Your moans turn into sweet sobs of his name as he thrusts into you harder, deeper, with your legs above his shoulders. His breaths thick and heavy fanning over your contorted face.

The flesh of your thighs ripple every time his hips collide into you. His room once so quiet now filled with slapping wet sounds and your whines as he fucks you hard, your head slightly hitting the headboard while his cock hits all the right spots. He leans in for a kiss before resting his forehead on yours, a breathy chuckle escaping his lips.

You breathe out—Why?

He slows down his pace, rolling his hips you can feel him in your belly. He shakes his head and smiles, murmuring before kissing you again—you drive me insane.

Your mind goes numb as he puts his weight on you, folding you further in half. His hands snaked your back and settled on your shoulders, keeping you in place as he thrust himself deeper. You become a teary whining mess, begging for more as he bottoms out. Your walls clench around his cock, drooling all over his sheets. He sinks deeper, burying himself inside you, he’s making sure you’d remember him and you’d feel him for days after you leave.

He lifts you with him as he sits up, bringing you closer to him, he wants nothing more than the warmth of your skin. You wrap your arms and legs around him, slurring—I’m close, Yoichi.

I know, I got you, he coos. His voice is so sweet, so full of affection for you.

You can see his face clearly—mouth agape, breathing heavily with his eyes in a dreamlike state—as you grind down on him. His shuddering, his hands traveling all over your back down to your ass, squeezing, spreading you open as he fucks you deep.

You clench around him as you roll your hips over him again and again, your pussy swallowing him whole, chasing your high as you fuck yourself with his cock, telling him how good he’s fucking you. His eyes struggle to keep his gaze fixed on you as his eyes roll back from pleasure, mumbling curses under his breath.

Possessiveness hazing his mind. His lips meet your skin, placing wet kisses to your neck down to your chest, biting, sucking until it stings—marking what’s his. He’s worshiping you, murmuring your name, telling you how you’re so beautiful and how your pussy takes him so well, desperate to show how much he wants you, that he’s the only one who could make you feel this good.

His hands abruptly grips your waist, making you stop. You can feel him throbbing inside you as he breathes heavily against your skin, “What’s wrong?” You pant, concerned.

He chuckles, swallowing in between heavy breaths, holding you tightly against him, “Fuck, sorry, I just-” he looks up to you, his cheeks flushed, skin glistening, searching your face, “I don’t want this to be over.”

Your expression softens, like everything within you is melting. He’s so pretty, you could cry, “It’s okay,” you whisper, pushing his hair up from his sweaty forehead before cupping his face—a tender kiss, “You can have me again.”

He wasted no time, everything he’s holding back, he lets go. Pushing you back on the bed, he pins your hands above your head, your foreheads meet, sweat mixing. He fucks you deeper—face to face—with his other hand on the small of your back, thrusting you into him.

You exchange heavy, shaky breaths as he moves in and out of you. He could feel your walls fluttering around his cock as you chase your release alongside him, craving for more friction with him inside you.

He gets sloppier, his thrusts, his words, slurring vulgar things to you—voice thick with pleasure. He releases his hand on your wrist to grab the cheeks of your ass, lifting you. He’s thrusting steadily and deeply, burying his cock so far inside you can’t think of anything else but him fucking you.

You clench around him, you’re close—it’s building up. Your pussy drools everytime he plunges inside you, dripping down your ass onto his bed.

I’m so close—he groans, breathy and desperate—I wanna fill you up—he chokes on his gasp—Can I?

Yes, yes, Yoichi, please I want it.

Fuck—he gasps—so fucking good to me.

Your moaning gets louder, arching your back as his thrusts gets messier, fucking you a little faster, you’re about cum: Yoichi, I’m—

The pleasure hits, your walls clenching, squeezing all around his cock. He’s hitting all the right spots making you a whining mess as you ride out your orgasm with your eyes rolling back, your hearing getting dull.

He leans forward to kiss you sloppily, his breaths shaky as he moans into your mouth. His thrusts become messier, I’m cumming—gonna fill you up, yeah? He murmurs against your lips. You’re still clenching around him, milking his cock for cum as you feel the warmth shooting inside you.

He fucks you lazily, cum gushing out of you with every slow thrust. He’s groaning against your neck, his brows knitted and eyes shut as you hold him tightly in an embrace. You feel all sticky and sweaty, and so debauched under him as his dick throb inside you.

He stays inside you for a while, bodies limp as the two of you come down from your high. Both of you so fucked out. Slowly, you become aware of everything around you. It’s quiet with just the sounds of your breathing.

He lifts his head to face you, he plants a soft kiss on your lips before pulling his still hard cock, a glistening white mess. You clench around nothing, his cum dripping out of you with his eyes on your pussy. Fuck—he sighs.

He asks, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

He peppers your face with kisses, his voice laced with mischief, “That we can go again?”

You chuckle, “Mhm.”

He was relentless. The two of you went on and on and on—you almost regretted saying yes everytime he asked one more. The last thing you could remember was his lips against your forehead as the room began to brighten from the morning sun. He was whispering sweet nothings while he played with your fingers before you eventually passed out.

┊┊┊

Shitshitshit—you whisper. You’re hastily getting dressed while Nagumo remains fast asleep, his back facing you. With a trembling hand, you reach for the doorknob, carefully and quietly opening the door to his bedroom as you prepare to leave.

As you stand still and glance at his sleeping figure over your shoulder, you feel overwhelmed with regret at having to go through this cycle again, wishing for things to have turned out differently. But sometimes life is funny like that.

He looks so peaceful as he sleeps, reminding you of his consistent kindness towards you. Your thoughts turn to the disruption you always bring into his life, making you wince inwardly.

It’s a shame, you were too late.

As you sneak across the hallway and into the living room, you hunt for your belongings. While looking around, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, your eyes widened in horror at the sight of the numerous love marks he had left on your skin. Thank fucking god for scarfs.

Upon reaching the foyer, you spot your coat and bag on the floor, remembering how it all went down between you and him. You grimace—what was I thinking?—as you put on your coat and pull out the scarf from your bag, wrapping it around your neck to hide evidence of your impulsive decision.

You freeze after hearing movements from his bedroom. You swear you haven’t put shoes on that fast in your life as you dashed through the door.

As you settle yourself in a taxi cab, you become aware of the aches in your body. Looking out the window, you ponder about last night’s escapade. Very very stupid move, you thought, shame and regret gnawing at you. But you couldn’t deny how good he was, if anything, he’s the best you’ve had. He made you feel so desirable, so cared for, so loved—

Love? Are you serious? You unintentionally tighten your fist as you feel a smile creeping in. A strange sensation breaks you away from your thoughts, you look at your hand. There it is, Nagumo’s wedding ring, hanging loosely around your ring finger.

Huh?

What was he thinking?

You faintly remember him playing with your fingers before falling asleep from exhaustion.

That clown.

He’s so childish.

I’ll mail it to Taro.

Your hand rummages around your bag as you search for your phone but it’s nowhere to be found. You let out a deep sigh with a frown on your face, thinking about the series of unfortunate events that seemed never-ending.

You carefully feel around the pocket area of your coat—Oh, it’s here. Reaching inside, you grab your phone, but upon pulling it out, something accidentally slipped out and fell.

Picking it up from the carpeted taxi floor, you mumble, “What’s this?”

A polaroid?

As you study it, you recall the photo that was lying on the dashboard of his car. It’s a little crumpled but it’s quite new. Annoyance starts creeping in: That little shit and his pranks.

This is taking it too far.

You start taking offense: He cheats on his wife with me and now he puts her picture in my pocket?

You shoved it inside your bag and took off his ring from your finger. For safekeeping, you decide to put it in one of the pockets of your bag. As you were about to drop it, you saw a detail from the ring. Curious, you look closely, checking the engraved details inside—it’s the same as your initials. Weird.

Puzzled, you instinctively pull out the photo again. You keep studying it, you can't see her face properly with her back almost facing the camera. Feeling a tinge of jealousy from her mysterious nature, you brush it off quickly. It’s a stolen shot, you observe.

You couldn’t take your eyes off it, something is weirdly familiar but you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it is. The place looks familiar, it’s like you’ve been there before. That’s impossible, you think.

You ponder, Taro did mention Nagumo travels a lot. Maybe he takes her with him? Your heart starts to pick up when you recognize what she’s wearing—I have one like this too.

Wait.

The place was the beach you went to earlier this year. Slowly, it starts dawning on you.

No fucking way.

With a trembling hand on your mouth, you question—

Is this me?

You look closely, eyes frantically scanning the photograph with your breath stuck in your throat. You start to recognize yourself: the hair, the dress, the wine in hand, the white sand, the sunset.

With your heart hammering in your chest, you mumble, “It is me.”

But how?

[akimoroll]

c o n t r a i l s

“Let go for me,” (loosen the rain)

Inspired by this muy delicioso shower art by Q_Q1110. I still cry about it.

Want more? Check out my SakaDays Masterlist!

Comments, reblogs, tags appeachiated~! 🍑

Banner img from R18 josei series Did My Biceps Turn You on? by Takayama Koba & Sakaki the Lazybones Shows His Talents at Night by Potsunen Jin. I totally recommend giving the latter a read 🥵

nagumo yoichi x f!reader | 5.3k words | Tags: shower sex, PWP, porn w/ feelings, established relationship, happy endings (wink-wonk), smut Content Warnings: blurry shower smex gif below the read more (it's one of the positions written - which I had to include in the chapter itself thanks to the hot af gif!), explicit descriptions, peen to vagine sex, unprotected sex (assume a different kind of birth control other than condoms are used).

( read on AO3 - only excerpt below )

Rain dripped from your coat as you stepped inside Nagumo’s condo, your body shivering slightly from the cold. Outside, the storm was relentless, leaving you soaked and chilled to the bone.

In contrast, his home was warm—comfortingly so—and as you shrugged off your damp jacket, you couldn’t help but feel a small sense of relief, knowing that he was waiting.

The place was unusually quiet, a rarity considering his usual chaotic energy. Your subordinates at the JAA had been chasing him down for days, needing his signature on an important document, but—true to his nature—he’d been deliberately elusive.

After they’d had no luck, it had gone up the food chain to you. You were the one who had to track him down, knowing full well that a straightforward interaction was unlikely.

Now, standing in his living room, you heard the faint sound of water cascading in the shower.

Figures. He always had a flair for timing.

Rolling your eyes, you moved further into the apartment and towards his bathroom, a thin stack of papers tucked under your arm.

Nagumo had a habit of brushing off anything that didn’t immediately entertain him, and by now, you’d learned to navigate his games. Still, this felt deliberate—like he was enjoying watching you chase after something he could’ve handled in five minutes.

As you approached the shower door, the glass was fogged, revealing nothing but a silhouette on the other side. 

You paused for a second, debating whether or not to knock. But before you could, you heard him.

“You’re not going to just stand there, are you?” his voice came through the mist, playful and teasing as always.

Of course. This was his plan all along.

You exhaled, mentally bracing yourself. "I’m not leaving until you sign these documents. Now, Nagumo.”

There was a soft laugh behind the glass, and you saw the blurred shape of his hand moving. Then, a motion. 

Nagumo wiped his hand across the misted glass, revealing his face and that familiar smirk, water dripping from his hair. He didn’t say anything. Instead, with a single finger, he started tracing something in the condensation. 

Slowly, a heart appeared on the fogged-up surface, drawn with his fingertip, followed by the curve of his mischievous smile.

Your heart gave a little kick of annoyance, but you weren’t going to let him distract you that easily.

( read the rest on AO3 )

Thank you, @dearsecretlover / @toyboxterror for your help with an idea in the fic~! It truly made it so much better!!!

[akimoroll]

Olivia Gatwood, Life Of The Party

[akimoroll]

giving in to the love.

chapter 3. are we all lost stars?

nagumo yoichi (sakamoto days) x afab!reader—wc 3.2k—alternate universe—read on ao3—chapters 1 & 2 & 4

cw—mentions of abuse and death. alcoholism. smoking. fluff. angst. aged up characters with highschool flashbacks. eventual smut (none in this chapter)

“Ow!” Nagumo winced after getting smacked by his mom, shielding himself with an arm.

“You weren’t saying ‘Ow!’ when you were fighting that boy back there!” She yelled, attempting to hit him again with her hand.

The school’s basketball team was competing for the Winter Cup and the plan was to win. But Nagumo, well, he had other goals in mind. During the final quarter of the game, when players became exhausted and tempers flared due to the closely matched scores, he punched somebody but not from the opposing team—it was his own teammate, Gaku, the boy you’ve been fooling with.

“Ri,” you bite on your nails, “I feel responsible.”

The two of you could hear Nagumo’s mom scolding him from downstairs. Although her words were unclear, you both knew she was fuming. Who wouldn’t? Her son excels in sports and got the grades to keep up with it. This is the first time he’s acted this foolish, of course she’s dismayed.

“And why is that?” Rion raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t know—”

Nagumo’s bedroom door slammed shut, startling you and Rion. You could hear his mom stomping down the stairs and into the kitchen.

“Where can I find the first aid kit?”

She hummed, with a dubious look on her face, “What are you up to?”

Hesitant, you sighed, “Nagumo saw me and Gaku arguing before the game…I think he heard stuff.”

“And?” She asked again with a hint of curiosity this time around.

With eyes far away, leaning closer to Rion, “What if he picked a fight because of that? You know how annoyingly against Nagumo is about him, right?” You hypothesized.

Rion didn’t answer and rose from the couch. Being familiar with your habit of overthinking, she knew you would not stop fretting over it. She also is well aware how you got her cousin whipped, but according to her: These two are idiots but I’ll watch this unfold…for fun. As good friends and cousins do, she started rummaging the shelves near the television and went back to you with the first aid bag.

“Here,” placing it on the coffee table, “I’ll distract auntie,” she said before heading towards the kitchen.

You stood up from the couch and froze, feeling hesitant at the thought of going to his room alone.

Suddenly, her head poked from the doorway, abruptly bringing you back to reality and mouthed, 'Go!'

You snatched the bag from the table and sprinted upstairs quietly. When you reached Nagumo’s bedroom door, you placed your ear against it: It’s quiet.

You knocked softly, but got no reply. Carefully, you turned the doorknob and peeked your head inside, whispering, “Hey!”

Nagumo’s eyes widened at the sight of you entering tiptoed with a first-aid kit in your hand. He sat up from the bed and removed his headphones. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, he speedily scanned his room: Is my room clean enough? What is she doing here?

The mattress sank as you sat beside him, “What happened?” You inquired in a hushed tone.

He was lost for words. You were sitting so close to him—inside his room, on his bed, the two of you completely alone. He couldn’t even meet your gaze. In an attempt to keep his cool, he fake yawned, “Nothing.”

With an eye roll, you nodded to him, “What do you mean nothing? You busted a lip,” you whispered.

He wasn’t sure if it’s the fragrance of your shampoo or the dress you're wearing—the hemline stopping just above your thighs, your knees faintly brushing against his own—that was causing his head to spin. That’s what she has on under her coat?

He saw you earlier before the game. You were bundled up with your winter clothes and matching scarf in your favorite color, with arms folded, walking like a penguin. Cute—a thought he had while he looked from afar.

He was in such a good mood after finding out that you’re going to watch the game, maybe not specifically for him but at least he could see you. He was pumped to win the game secretly for you.

But all those feelings went out the window the moment he overheard you practically begging Gaku to act right. He didn’t intend to eavesdrop. He tried to remain calm and logical about it, just like he had been for the previous months. Yet hearing it first hand was a different story.

“What are you doing here?” he asked in confusion.

You lifted the kit, “Your injury?”

“They already took care of it back there,” he said, disappointed by the wasted opportunity.

Your shoulders slumped, “Oh,” pouting, “Do you hate me?”

I could never hate you.

He hid a smile, sighing, “You should forget about him. He doesn’t care about you,” I do.

You fall back on his bed, “I know,” your eyes distant, fixed on the ceiling, “I was supposed to meet up with him after the game but I have no idea where he is.”

Nagumo looked over his shoulder and nearly choked at the sight of you lying with your hair sprawled on his bed.

He doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. You’re killing me here.

“He’s hiding from embarrassment,” he said proudly.

You sat up again, with a playful smile on your face, you teased him, “You look pleased.”

His gaze followed you, “I’d do that again if given the chance,” He said softly but winced when he tried to smile.

You leaned closer to check his lip, with a touch of worry, you said, “Careful.”

He swallowed, breath stuck in his throat thinking, too close. You’re too close.

You locked eyes with him for a fraction of a second. Unaware of the effects of your actions on him, he looked away.

Nagumo reclined back on the bed, arms folded behind his head, letting his thoughts wander aimlessly to distract himself from the feeling of you being in his room.

“I didn’t know you have a thing for cameras,” you said, holding one as you study it.

Surprised that you already made your way to his desk, he rose from the bed and stepped closer to you, “It’s a side thing,” he said, gently taking it from your grasp, fingers barely touching yours in the process.

You instinctively smiled as he pointed it to you. He clicked and it flashed, and made a soft whirring sound while a polaroid print popped out.

Feeling excited, you moved closer to him, “Let me see,” you mumbled.

His stomach fluttered, “So impatient,” he grinned from ear to ear.

The two of you stood side by side, staring at the undeveloped polaroid. Distracted by the proximity, he handed it to you and placed the camera back on the desk. He sat on the bed to create some sort of space between the two of you, even for a little while—only for you to follow him to the bed again.

Your image slowly appeared on the polaroid, “I look like shit,” you chuckled, flipping it between your fingers to show him.

His gaze lingered on you with the desire to tell you: No, you don’t. You’re perfect.

Instead, “You can keep it,” he managed to say.

“You’re too nice,” you murmured, still looking at the polaroid.

You can have more of me, he thought, brushing it off as quickly as it appeared, “It’s just a picture,” he snorted.

Your expression softened, “No, I mean, in general,” you shifted your position to face him.

“Just yesterday you told me I was ‘full of shit’.” He looked at you suspiciously.

“I’m serious,” rolling your eyes at him, “You should be more selfish,” you continued.

Selfish?

He hummed, grinning, “Come on now, don’t be shy. Get to the point.”

With your head tilted to the side, you pondered, “You’re already a good friend for being angry in my place,” you started fidgeting on the ends of your dress, “You didn’t have to do all that.”

I could do more for you if you let me.

He shifted his gaze to the floor before speaking, “So you’re saying I shouldn’t have done that and just let him be?” He said and looked back at you.

Completely unaware of the whirlwind that’s going on in his head, you playfully jabbed at his arm, “Exactly. I can handle myself.”

His gaze softened, “So, I should just do what I want,” he paused, thinking, “and not care about others too much?”

“Yeah, something like that,” nodding, “to be honest, I’m not sure either. I just think you’re too kind and you should be a little selfish sometimes,” you rambled.

He nodded slowly, “You’re right,” he said and grimaced internally. Selfish it is.

With trembling hands, one pressed on the mattress behind you, the other gripping his own knee, anchoring himself as he hovered his face over your own. He’s careful, almost hesitant as his shaky breath fanned over your lips—then it finally touched. The fluttering inside his stomach turned into a zoo but his kiss was light, barely there, then he deepened it. He doesn’t move, he doesn't want to intrude. He kissed you in a way just enough to let you know how he feels. He kept his hands to himself, not because he didn't want to touch you, but because he physically couldn’t—even if he wanted to.

You didn’t have time to react. As you held onto the polaroid that he took of you, you unintentionally crumpled it. You sat still with your breath stuck in your throat. Your eyes widened when you realized what’s happening, you pulled away, dropping the photo of you on his bedroom floor. Breaths fanning against each other with your lips less than an inch apart from his, “What are you doing?” You whispered.

He swallowed, eyes half lidded, “Being selfish,” he said, almost breathless with his heart beating out of his chest. He’s dying to touch you, to pull you closer but he felt too weak. His whole body was tingling as your lips lingered—it was soft and warm, and sweet just like how he imagined it.

His kiss felt like nothing you’ve ever had. It was patient, gentle, with almost a hint of desperation but wasn’t invasive. You suddenly become hyper-aware of everything, of him—the slight flush of his cheeks. The space that’s almost non-existent between you. The quietness of his room and how it smelled just like him. Then you realized how soft his bed was and that you’re all alone with him. Yet it’s easy and comfortable, you don't have to try, he doesn’t make you.

Did I misunderstand things? The two of you thought.

⊹

Failing to light up the cigarette because of the wind, Nagumo moves closer to you, blocking it with his hands. His cold fingers covering yours and like a lighter, the closeness lit a memory for both of you, taking you back to a similar moment.

He observes you closely, towering over you while you take slow, deep puffs from the cigarette, “Do you want to visit Rion with me?” His voice quiet.

Not planning to see him again after tonight, you contemplate, “Right now? Or?”

“Tomorrow?”

Hesitant, you say, “I have bad hangovers.”

“We can go in the afternoon,” he keeps his voice neutral but his pleading gaze gives it away.

There’s a long pause before you speak again, “I don’t think I can do it,” you shake your head, murmuring, “I’m sorry.”

He slowly nods, leaning back against the wall beside you, “How about the beach?” He says, attempting to lighten you up.

You stare at him, puzzled by the sudden change of tone, “You give me whiplash,” chuckling, “Remember Rion wanted to go to the beach but was grounded all summer?” you say, eyes distant, “I promised her I’d take her to my dad’s after we graduate because he lived on an island near one.”

“Yeah, I remember,” he laughs with you, “You were secretly talking to your dad, right?”

“Mhm, mom would’ve killed me if she found out,” you say, “But I didn’t actually believe him, he has a habit of making empty promises.”

“Nice~ like your type in men?” He snorted.

You gasp, pushing him by the arm lightly, “How dare you point out the obvious!”

The two of you laughed and exchanged a few more silly stories from the past. It was refreshing until Nagumo noticed you shivering more than usual.

“Should we head inside?” He asks with a hint of concern.

Pursing your lips, “I’ll head back to my hotel, they won’t notice anyway,” you said, half joking.

Reluctant to part ways with you, Nagumo thinks of ways to make you stay. His gaze shifts around before looking at you, “My car has a heater,” he offers.

Alright. Just this once. You glare at him, a smile forming, “Fine.”

⊹

As you settled into the passenger seat, Nagumo closed the door and jogged around the car to the driver's side. While waiting, you got a brief look at a photograph of a woman—you couldn’t see clearly because of the darkness—resting on the dashboard among various trinkets and receipts. He quickly tucked it away and set it aside after getting into the car. You didn’t ask questions. Maybe his wife.

The two of you share the warmth of the heater with your palms in front of it. You sit in comfortable silence while music faintly plays in the background. You begin to quietly observe the inside of his car: It smells like his perfume. You glance at the backseat and it was obvious he travels a lot with bags casually thrown in there.

“Do you want me to clear the backseat for you?” He asks, a grin forming.

You look at him, “No, I was just,” averting his gaze, “I was just looking.”

“What for?” His tone provokes, but he always does.

“Stop it,” you lightheartedly snap at him.

Holding back a laugh, “Stop what?” He asks.

“Tch, shut up,” you warn him, smiling.

He laughs, leaning back on the driver’s seat, “Ah~ I was just asking.”

The windows are heavily tinted, you observed but didn’t mention it aloud. You were sure he would find humor in it and tease you if you did.

“So,” grabbing your attention, “The beach, do you wanna go?” He asks.

You scoffed, “Are you serious? It’s winter.”

“Who says we're going swimming?”

You give him a dubious look, “What are we gonna do there then?” Leaning back on the seat.

“Just, chill? Maybe freeze to death?” He grins, “I’m serious.” He rests his arm on the console, rolling his head to the side to look at you.

“I don’t think that’s appropriate,” you say under your breath, looking far away into the windshield.

Nagumo sits in silence, racking his brain for ways to prolong your stay. He could feel the growing distance between you two and he can’t let you go just yet.

♪ ݂۫

Take my hand

Let's see where we wake up tomorrow

Best laid plans

Sometimes are just a one night stand

I'll be damned

♪ ݂۫

Deep down, you know you need to leave before guilt starts to resurface. But something about being alone with him feels like it isn’t over yet, even though nothing truly started.

♪ ݂۫

Cupid's demanding back his arrow

So let's get drunk on our tears

And, God, tell us the reason

Youth is wasted on the young

It's hunting season and the lambs are on the run

♪ ݂۫

“Speaking of the beach, I just started going this year,” you break the silence.

Nagumo looks at you, waiting for you to continue.

“Can you believe it took me years despite living near it? It used to trigger me. But I finally did it,” smiling, “It made me sad but I also felt somewhat at peace,” you say softly.

He averts his gaze, fiddling with the clutter he set aside earlier in his coat pocket.

“I was talking to her in my head, imagining, ‘Look, Rion! We’re finally here like I promised you!’” You chuckle but your voice breaks.

His eyebrows knit at the sound of it, swallowing the lump in his throat that wouldn't go away.

“And then I thought,” exhaling shakily, “maybe if I wasn’t so fucking stupid she would still be here and,” you said, tears warning to escape.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he says softly, afraid to speak any louder for fear of causing you to break.

But you continue, shaking your head, “I killed her, Yoichi. It’s my fault,” you let out a hollow laugh, lips quivering.

The fullness in your throat chokes you, breathing becomes heavy as you internally blame yourself—

⊹

That night was seemingly like any other night—a heated argument with your mother, she falls asleep drunk on the couch, feeling frustrated—you sneak out. But you dared to take her car with you.

“Your mom will kill you!” Rion giggled as she settled in the passenger seat.

“Not if we don’t get caught,” you deadpanned.

She looked at you from the side for a good while, her expression unreadable, “You alright?”

“Yeah, mom’s just being…mom. That’s all,” you said, eyes distant.

Rion wasn’t convinced. Did something happen? She saw how Nagumo was acting weird at home and how you’ve become increasingly distant towards him as well. But she didn’t press the matter further.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” She gently reminded you.

“Ri, I’m fine. I promise,” you retorted. But you weren’t fine. Your mind wandered back to that day when Nagumo kissed you.

Maybe he felt sorry and thought those were his ‘feelings’ for me?

Nagumo means a lot to you. Despite being frustratingly overprotective at times, you appreciate it. You were happy with the way things are with him. But in his absence, it sparked a new feeling and it’s been eating you from the inside out. But he’s too good. You didn’t want to burden him with your troubled existence. He has so much to look forward to. It wouldn’t be fair for him.

And then you remembered how he kissed you, how he was so respectful about it. You don’t have to answer right now, I can wait, he said. No one had shown such patience with you before. But doubt crept into your mind and you avoided him for over a week. I don’t deserve him.

What if I give it a chance and it works out?

But what if it doesn’t? What if he changes his mind?

I miss him.

Those were your last thoughts before you felt Rion frantically slapping your arm, yelling your name repeatedly as a massive blinding light approached her side of the vehicle.

⊹

Your vision starts to blur as tears well, “I’m sorry for ruining your night,” you murmur.

Nagumo squeezes his eyes shut as he instinctively reaches out to you, pulling you into his arms. Your sobbing fills the space, the sounds muffled against his chest. He gently rubs your back while his other hand holds the back of your head, his fingers getting tangled in your hair. He tenderly kisses the top of your hair, keeping his eyes closed. In the softest way he could, he whispers, "You can never ruin anything, even if you try."

His warm embrace comforts you, a sharp contrast to the coldness outside. He kept holding you as you slowly started to calm down, "Do you want me to take you home?" He whispered.

You replied softly, "Where even is home, Yoichi?"

[chapter 4 →]

[akimoroll]

“Thank you for letting me know,” you hung up the phone.

The feeling in your throat and chest had intensified as tears filled your eyes, making your vision hazy. Your legs give out, you didn’t even make it to the couch as you sank to the carpeted floor with your hands clutching your chest as you broke down into tears.

There was nothing that could have prepared you for this. Hardly a week ago, Aki had been with you. He invited you to his place, wanting to spend time alone together. He cooked dinner for the two of you, and when you asked about Denji and Power, he simply shrugged and said they were out for a while. You didn't press the matter further.

The evening was peaceful, just you two, doing the dishes together as the water splashed softly in the sink with the faint music in the background providing a soothing and beautiful moment of domesticity.

For the seventh time that evening, he told you, “You look very pretty today.” And like always, your cheeks turned pink. You could never get used to it, not when he said it standing so close beside you with his arms gently brushing against your own.

One of your favorite songs started playing. He looked at you for a moment, smiling softly. He took off his apron and then yours, setting it aside.

Slowly, he takes your hand and then the other, “Aki, the dishes…” you giggled.

Shaking his head slightly, he said just above a whisper, “It can wait…”

He led you from the kitchen and into the dimly lit living room. The two of you slowly danced as he pulled you closer to him. He kissed your forehead and then your cheek, with one hand on the small of your back and the other intertwined with yours. Your heart fluttered at how romantic he had been acting, almost corny, a little too cheesy and you let him.

You rested the side of your face against his chest as you listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, immersing yourself into his warm embrace. The song was about to end and you swore you heard him sniffle.

Concerned, you asked, “Are you alright?”

“Mhm,” he kissed the top of your hair.

You didn’t have the chance to delve deeper when he tilted your head to face him. Cradling your face with his palms on your cheeks, he kissed you—it was gentle at first, feather light, barely there. And then he deepened it, little by little he became needy. He enveloped you in his arms, almost carrying you as he began leading you clumsily into the bedroom with his cold hands wandering all over your back.

Aki made love to you that night, leaving the dishes undone, whispering sweet nothings in your ears as your bodies drowned in each other’s heat with fingers locked together.

“I love you,” he said so softly, enough to make you melt, if it was even physically possible. You were so beautiful underneath him, so delicate and so sweet as you cried out his name in pure bliss, “I love you too, Aki.”

The two of you calmed down—skin to skin—in each other’s arms. You rested your head on his chest as he ran his fingers through your hair, his steady breathing lulling you to sleep.

You look back on it with distant eyes and barely dried tears on your cheeks: The way he held you a little tighter, kissed you a little longer, and the way he spoke to you a little softer. Was that him saying goodbye?

It dawned upon you—you can never have him the same way again. His pretty face with his eyes deep blue like the ocean you’d willingly drown to. His cold fingers that lingered every time he touched you. The warmth of his embrace that was always ready for you to fall into. His voice that’s enough to get you through on days he couldn’t see you—how terrifyingly painful it is to be aware that he now only exists as a fleeting memory to you.

You finally managed to curl yourself onto the couch and cried yourself to sleep, only for Aki to appear in your dreams with his back facing you as he stood still with the wind blowing his hair, staring into the horizon. And even if you couldn’t see his face, you know he’s beautiful—in every way you recall him.

[akimoroll]

giving in to the love.

chapter 2. everyone adores you (at least I do)

nagumo yoichi (sakamoto days) x afab!reader—wc 3k—alternate universe—read on ao3—chapters 1 & 3 & 4

cw—mentions of abuse and death. alcoholism. smoking. fluff. angst. eventual smut. aged up characters with highschool flashbacks.

Everybody has you up on their wall sometimes

Everybody thinks of you when they sleep at night

When I say, "Everybody, " I'm actually referring to mе

Nagumo has always been observant. Whether he liked it or not, he just noticed things. So when he became aware of you and your gloomy demeanor, it was more of a ‘What’s wrong with her?’ than anything else.

You didn’t socialize with the class, you were always staring out the window or sneaking into the back of the school building or climbing up the rooftop with students from other classes.

He would see Aoi approach you every once in a while but you’d only give her half smiles and one word replies. This made group activities especially hard for you. Not until Nagumo’s parents took Rion in.

Rion was a month late but blended in with the class with ease. He noticed Rion and you started to click, being seatmates made it convenient.

In a few weeks, Nagumo noticed you were smiling and talking more but only with Rion. Then you slowly started to mingle with the other girls. It’s as if Rion was the bridge for you to connect with everyone until you were comfortable doing it with the whole class.

Nagumo didn’t really think much about it until you started coming to his house to hang out with Rion. He wasn’t the type to lounge around the living room, he’s always upstairs in his room or at basketball practice. But on days where he’s at home he started going downstairs more frequently.

There was one time while he was getting snacks from the fridge and he heard you laughing in the living room. Not giggle, not chuckle but a full blown laughter, it was almost unrecognizable. He was curious so he peeked. You and Rion were watching a movie and you looked so happy and he thought he’d want to see that again. He wanted to hear it again so he tried pulling jokes on you in school. He would tease Rion in front of you and then he started teasing you too, but it wasn’t working like he wanted to because you were getting annoyed with him. But he still liked it, it’s better than nothing, he thought. He enjoyed seeing different reactions from you.

However, something changed in him during his birthday in July after your classmates had already left. It was one of the hottest summer evenings and you were wearing a hoodie. He came out of the kitchen, leaving Rion and his mom alone to clean up because he wanted to check up on you. Well, it was more because he wanted to make fun of your fashion choices. He was so smug about it but you smiled so sweetly at him and said, “My mom hates me and I’m trying to hide that hate from everyone so they wouldn’t hate me too.”

His smile slowly dropped. What do you mean? is what he wanted to ask. But he realized how sad you were all the time and even though you’re doing better these days, your eyes still looked tired, like they’re always so far away. Like you’re physically here but your soul isn’t.

He shook his head, “Stop joking around like that,” letting out a fake chuckle.

“Do you want a birthday gift?” You asked softly.

His eyebrows knitted, “You already gave me one.”

“This one’s different,” you said.

Apart from Rion, Nagumo was always around you, trying to get a reaction from you. You’re not stupid, it was obvious how he was always trying to brighten up your day. He’s been taking down every brick from the wall you put up around you and you always wondered how it would be nice to open up to someone like him.

You didn’t know what had gotten into you but you just felt like you wanted him to take a look inside, just a little sneak peek. Maybe like a cry for help? Like, ‘I’m here! Someone’s still alive here!’ even if it’s just with him and this moment alone.

His eyes progressively widened as you took off your jacket, showing him black and blue patches all over your skin, some bigger and darker than the others. And just like any other gift that he had, he wanted to take care of it—to take care of you.

It made him want to protect you, no questions asked. But he didn’t want to pry any further so he just did his best to make your days better in his own little way. And until you let him in, he’d keep looking out for you.

⊹

“Hello?” Nagumo said, tilting his head, holding the phone between his ear and shoulder.

He didn’t want to pick up but he’s been getting calls from the same unknown number for two days straight now and it’s getting annoying.

“Nagumo,” the man from the other line spoke.

He stopped what he’s doing, “Sakamoto?” now holding the phone with his hand, “You changed your number?”

“No, I borrowed Shin’s,” there was a long pause before saying your name, “You might wanna see her, next week.”

Nagumo paused, bewildered, “What? I don’t understand,” looking out the window of his hotel room.

“You heard me,” Taro said in a passive tone, “I know you’re busy but you should tie loose ends with her so you can finally carry on with your life.”

Nagumo hummed, his voice hesitant, “I don’t know, man,” he murmured.

“Up to you,” Taro said, “I’ll text you the details.”

Nagumo ended the call shortly after and booked the first flight to Tokyo the following day.

⊹

As soon as he enters the venue, he spots you sitting at the far end of the table. He could never mistake you, not for someone else. Even from a mile away, he’d know it’s you.

He stalls, hands in his pockets, watching you from afar—observing you. This might be the last.

After finally deciding to make his presence known, he crossed the room in confident strides. He automatically taunts Hyo—his voice still holding the same mischievous tone—just how you remember him.

Like the life of the party he is, he says hello to everyone—fist bumps, high fives and the like. He takes his time, pretending he’s not excited to see you. As if he wasn’t already losing his mind over it for the past week after Taro called—which he thankfully answered, because he usually doesn’t these days—telling him you might show up.

You could feel him getting closer to where you are. Hands fidgeting under the table, you start to question everything.

What if I make a fool of myself?

What if I say hi and he’s still mad at me?

Come on, it was a long time ago. We’re grown now.

But what if he ignores me?

Wait, was he mad back then? Fuck, I don’t remember shit.

I could use a stick right now but this will do. You gulp down the mug full of beer while his figure enters your peripherals.

“You’re here,” he smirks. Dying to keep his cool, he hoped you wouldn’t notice.

All the tension in your body leaves after hearing his voice. You turn to him, smiling, “I’m here,” you speak softly.

He remains still, gaze fixed on you. It’s as if everything around him starts to slow down after seeing your face light up.

You inwardly thank the alcohol for the natural blush. It would’ve been so obvious by the way he made your cheeks heat up. Has he always looked this good?

After witnessing your moment with Nagumo unfold before her, Osaragi whispers, “Hyo, do they have history?”

Shishiba who’s seated in between her and Hyo, “It’s rude to ask questions like that to a married man,” his voice low.

“That’s why I’m asking Hyo,” she deadpans.

“Nagumo,” Hyo’s voice cuts in, “I heard you got married.”

His tone provokes, “Did I, now?” Shamelessly staring at you. He looked so smitten, they all felt like they were interrupting something.

You turn your eyes away from him after hearing what Hyo just said.

Right, I shouldn’t be gawking at him like that.

⊹

As the night wears on, you keep catching him stealing glances at you, or is it him that’s caught you? Both preoccupied with their own little conversation—him with the boys and you with the girls—you wait for the right timing to talk to him alone.

I should apologize.

You have to, for you, to finally move on. It’s the least you could do for him too. You were young and naive—you were in so much pain and he was too but he was there for you; always looking out for you.

⊹

“What’s that?” Rion’s head popped behind you, “who’s that from?”

“I don’t know,” you said while looking at the ice pack and painkillers left in your locker. But you knew. You caught Nagumo looking numerous times in class. He pays attention to you. He always does.

He noticed the bruise on your cheek—your mom gave you the night before—despite wearing a facemask. He noticed your puffy eyes that morning and the hoodie you would wear when you’re trying to cover something up. He didn’t have it in him to ask you about it, he didn’t want to pry, but he knew.

You were too embarrassed to ask about his kind gesture and he didn’t mention it either. He was just being nice. That’s all there is to it.

⊹

“Mind if I sit here?” Placing his hands on your shoulders, Nagumo didn’t wait for you to answer. He gently motions you to scooch to the left and inserts himself in the space you give him.

His touch lingers as he starts conversing with Aoi and Taro with you stuck in the middle. His arm would brush against you every now and then, and you’d catch whiffs of his cologne. You were forced to sit in their conversation, nodding and smiling along quietly.

“How’s Hana doing?” Nagumo asks the couple.

Taro responds, “She started school recently. Shin and Lu are looking after her tonight.”

“Hey, Nagumo, why didn’t you invite us to the wedding?” Aoi interrogates with a lighthearted tone. You take a quick look at his hand on the table, he does have a ring. He has tattoos now too.

He chuckles, “It was something spontaneous,” he paused, pondering, “and intimate.”

“Are you guys planning to have kids too?” She adds.

He tilts his head to the side as he answers, “We haven’t talked about it,” you look over to him with curiosity only for you to see that he’s already looking at you.

He averts his eyes to his drink, grinning, “My dream of forming a basketball team still stands, though.” You watch him chug his drink from the corners of your eyes, his Adam's apple bobbing.

He joked about that a long time ago—he’s such a clown. You chuckle inwards, eyes distant, you wonder what he’d be like as a father. His wife must be so lucky to have someone as dependable as him, his children would absolutely love him and his shenanigans.

Nagumo mentions your name and you almost leap, “What about you? What are you up to these days?”

Just work—drowning myself with work so I don’t have to feel anything else outside of it. The pay is good, though. Which reminds me, I haven’t met new people recently. Not that I don’t have time, I just drink a lot these days at home. It used to be just weekends, and then I started picking up the habit even on weekdays. Mom died too and I don’t know what to feel about it. I’m tired, honestly—

“Just work,” you force a smile and drain your drink clean. You let out a satisfied ‘ah’.

The crowd from another booth were having a little too much to drink and started lifting their phones in the air, pointing the flashlights down to mimic a disco ball while one of them sang the karaoke. Everyone starts cheering with them as you sway discreetly along the music, grateful that the conversation was cut short.

A flash catches your eye, you grimace, squeezing eyes shut. Your heart starts to pick up.

Then another one—you start to feel lightheaded as the music starts to sound muffled and the clinking of utensils and glasses make you jumpy. Breathing becomes hard as you feel a fullness in your throat down to your chest.

And again—you start sweating, your clothes suddenly feel tight, the place starts to feel cramped like it’s closing in on you. It’s happening again.

Happy thoughts…

Your cat back home,

Just happy thoughts…

—and how she sleeps with her tongue slightly out.

Deep breaths…

You think about the sounds of crashing waves and the warm breeze blowing against your skin and how calming it is.

Relax…

And then the full view of the setting sun while you sit by the shore with your feet in the sand and wine in your hand.

Right, Boracay…

I need to go back there.

You breathe a sigh of relief when you feel it leaving you. Leaning closer to Aoi, “I’m gonna catch some fresh air real quick,” you whisper and she nods.

⊹

With your back leaning against the wall of an alleyway, you shiver while lighting up a cigarette. You fold your arms to keep yourself warm as you take quick long drags, burning half of the stick in an instant.

“That’s your idea of fresh air?” Nagumo walks up to you, hands in the pockets of his coat, grinning.

With a lighthearted scoff, “You smoke?” you offer him some as he stands beside you side by side.

Shaking his head, “Nah, but thanks.”

“Figured,” you take it back, shoving it in your coat pocket.

He shivers from the cold, leaning at the wall next to you, your sides brushing against each other, “You still haven’t quit that bad habit of yours,” he says as he tilts his head to look at the sky.

You smile, “Old habits die hard,” eyes distant.

He chuckles while pulling out a snack from the inside of his coat.

Eyes trailing to his wedding ring, you watch him open the packet, “I see you still got a sweet tooth,” averting your gaze.

In a smug tone, “It’s because I have taste,” he takes a bite, “even with bad habits.”

You both chuckle.

⊹

You were quietly giggling with Rion in their living room, accidentally mentioning Gaku—a boy from another class—out loud.

“Gaku? Really now?” Nagumo chimed in, shocked.

“Were you eavesdropping?” Rion scoffed, throwing a pillow at him.

“Yeah, why not?” You shrug, “he’s your teammate, right?”

He shook his head from disbelief. You’re unbelievable, is what he wanted to say. But instead, “Your taste is interesting,” he continued scrolling on his phone.

“Oh, okay. I get it,” you walk up to him as he lies on the couch, an eyebrow raised, “Let’s talk about your taste then.”

You nod to him, crossing your arms, standing directly in front of him, “Get up.”

He got up, towering over you, “I’m up,” smirking.

You glared at him—

“Okay, let’s calm down,” Rion said, pulling you both to sit, “this is not a contest of bad tastes,” she and Nagumo snickered.

You scoffed and was so ready to speak but you couldn’t even name one person that you think he likes. Thinking back, girls would be all over him but you’ve never seen him flirting back or be around one. Well, except you, but you’re out of the equation.

Nagumo sighed, standing up, “This is stupid,” he walks out, “I’m gonna go do homework.”

You and Rion followed him with your eyes.

“He’s moody these days. Don’t mind him,” said Rion.

⊹

“How are you not drunk yet?” Nagumo asks, a hint of amusement in his voice, “I saw you getting refills like it’s water.”

Like mother, like daughter, I guess?

You tilt your head to the side, shrugging, voice smug, “I look up to my mom a lot,” taking a long drag from your now second stick.

“Dark,” he says, fakely reprimanding you.

He made you spend almost half an hour in the alleyway catching up with him, ‘I’m trying to sober up’ he said. Until there wasn't anything to talk about anymore. You were both silent for a moment.

“You still have them?” He asks abruptly, his voice gentle.

Feigning ignorance, “Have what?” you answer.

He paused before speaking, “Panic attacks.”

You breathe deeply, “Sometimes,” eyes faraway, “but not as bad as before.”

Nagumo nods slowly, both of you thinking about the elephant in the room.

“Look,” the two of you utter in unison.

Both startled, you face each other, “You first,” in unison again, making both of you cackle.

“Ladies first,” he says, nodding to you.

Your expression softens, eyes apologetic, “I know it’s long overdue but I wanted to say sorry… for everything.”

His brows knit, “No, no, I should be the one apologizing—”

“Look, you were just trying to be nice,” you cut him off, “and I was mean. I shouldn’t have said those things to you.”

“You were going through something,” he leans on the wall on his back, eyes distant.

“You were too, and that’s not a reason to treat people like shit, Yoichi.”

Silence.

“Just apologize about Gaku and we can call it quits.”

You squint, puzzled by the mention of his name.

With a growing grin, he waits for your reaction. Then it hits you, you burst out laughing and he watches you—eyes crinkled, head tilted to the sky, a hand hovering your mouth—his heart swells from the sound of your laughter.

“I can’t believe you picked a fight with him,” you shake your head, “and in an official game too, with other schools watching.” You laugh again.

“Well,” tilting his head from side to side, “It was partly your fault,” he snickers.

Your mouth falls open, a smile creeping in, “I wasn’t the one who busted your lip,” you hit his arm lightly.

Nagumo looks at your lips and back to your eyes in an instant, “He was your boyfriend, so…” he trails off.

You groan, “He wasn’t,” rolling your eyes, you sigh, “It’s crazy how I used to chase guys who doesn’t give a fuck about me.” You chuckle.

He hums, “Mhm,” it left a bitter taste on his tongue.

You avoid his gaze, fishing your pocket for another cigarette. You were staring at each other for a moment too long and it felt like he wanted to say something and you know exactly what it is.

[chapter 3 →]

[akimoroll]

giving in to the love.

chapter 1. the less I know the better

nagumo yoichi (sakamoto days) x afab!reader—wc 1.7k—alternate universe—read on ao3—chapters 2 & 3 & 4

cw—mentions of abuse and death. alcoholism. smoking. fluff. angst. eventual smut. aged up characters with highschool flashbacks.

I was doin' fine without you

'Til I saw your face, now I can't erase

Givin' in to all his bullshit

Is this what you want? is this who you are?

As you step out of the taxi, you shut the door after expressing gratitude to the driver. You arrive in front of an izakaya located in the bustling streets of Tokyo. You fold your arms to keep yourself warm from the cold December night. It’s been a while since you dressed yourself in layers. Little clouds form as you breathe in and out, a stark contrast from what you call home where it’s warm all year round.

Contemplating whether to go inside or not, you pace back and forth at the bottom of the stairs, rubbing your palms together as you exhale on it. You weren’t planning to do anything eventful when you came back, let alone hang out with your old highschool buddies. However, just a week ago, you were cornered by Aoi when you happened to step inside their family owned store.

You remember seeing a man behind the counter, thinking he looked familiar but you brushed it off as quickly as it came into mind. After going around the aisles, craving for some good ol’ cup noodles, you proceeded for checkout. A woman called out your name, and to your surprise, it was Aoi.

Oh my god, is that really you? She squealed.

How could you not remember her voice that matched her personality and her cute beauty mark?

You turned to the guy earlier with wide eyes as your mouth fell open. It hit you like a truck— Taro?! You guys got married?!

Aoi was giggling while she told the story of how they got together. They both looked happy and she’s glowing as ever. It warmed your heart even more when they introduced their daughter Hana to you.

“Are you back for good?” Taro asked.

“No. Just here to settle stuff after… you know,” you trailed off, “…mom’s passing.”

Aoi’s gaze softened and held your hands, “We’re here if you need anything.”

You nodded, smiling with appreciation, “Thanks, I’m alright, there’s not much to be sad about anyway.” You were about to laugh but cleared your throat instead after realizing how out-of-pocket that comment was.

Thankfully, a customer approached the counter and inquired about something, breaking the awkwardness.

Honey, could you get that? Aoi asked Taro in the sweetest tone possible. As you watch the domesticity of it all, you start longing for something you haven’t even experienced. You would love to have something like that as well, but by the looks of things, it’s not happening anytime soon. One day.

Back in highschool, Aoi was the complete opposite of Taro. She was class president, the ‘mom’ of the friend group, the teacher’s pet, straight A’s and friends with everyone. Taro’s a smart kid too but he was on the quiet side and would often get in trouble just because he tagged along with you and other troublesome kids. Who would’ve known they’d end up together?

Aoi turned to you, her expression hinted of excitement, “Are you busy next week?”

“Not sure. What’s up?” You kept your voice neutral.

She went around the counter and walked up to you, “We do this thing yearly, like a reunion if you will,” you nod as she continued, “would you like to come? They’d be happy to see you again.”

You squinted, “They? The whole class?” feeling uneasy.

She nudged your hand, “No, no! Just our circle.” She clarified.

Oh, they still keep in touch.

Aoi saw your hesitation and quickly added, “No pressure, alright?” She waved her hand in front of you, “if you ever change your mind, you are so, so welcome to join.” She beams.

You agreed and exchanged info with her. “I’ll send you the details. Think about it!” She waved you off as you exited the store.

How could you say no to her? She has always been nice to you, always making sure everyone felt included. You don’t have plans for the next two weeks so might as well give it a chance, right? You’re leaving soon anyway with the possibility of never looking back, ever.

Plus, it would be a waste to go home after you made an effort to look nice tonight— you wore your favorite pair of shoes, your overpriced perfume you bought months ago that’s never been used, the coat you bought specifically for this trip, and makeup that you spent hours on. Not that you wanted to impress anyone. It’s been years since the last time they saw you and were a mess before you moved away, of course you wanted to look presentable this time.

It isn’t getting any warmer either so you finally walk up the stairs and step inside. The aroma of barbecue, seafood and beer welcomes you, inviting as it invades your senses. You were surrounded by traditional Japanese interiors and mismatched furniture. The place was packed and busy with the air a bit hazy. It was also lit in a way that is not too bright but dim enough to make it feel cozy and homey.

You look around as you scan for familiar faces. Aoi waves as she walks up to you, “You’re late!” Her cheeks flushed.

“Sorry. I was still deciding at the last minute.”

She chuckles with you, “I told them you were coming!” snaking her arm around yours.

Feeling self-conscious, “Do I still have time to backout?”

“Oh, stop it!” She pulls you into a booth with more or less ten people seated at a long table. They huddled around as food and drinks were already served.

Hyo was the first one to greet you, “Hey, troublemaker! Long time no see!” His voice vibrated through the room. They all look in your direction, causing you to stand awkwardly still.

“Yeah, it’s been a while.” Your face contorted into a rictus of embarrassment from all the attention.

You make your way towards the far end of the table and sit beside Aoi who’s next to Taro. Seeing some familiar faces and two unfamiliar ones made you a bit uneasy. Taro noticed this and called for your attention.

“This is Osaragi and Shishiba, they transferred during senior year so you didn’t get to meet them.” You exchanged formalities after he introduced you to each other. Are they a couple? You thought but didn’t ask.

As the night progressed, you nodded along as you started catching up with them, pushing down your curiosity after being aware of a certain someone’s absence.

After answering a series of questions about your life—that felt like forever—Hyo went on to reminisce about highschool as the others added stories like piecing a puzzle of memories. There was even a point where Aoi got too passionate while talking about Ms. Satoda, one of the few teachers that genuinely cared about her students. But you all burst out laughing when Taro brought up that one time when he, you and Rion were punished by Ms. Satoda after getting caught smoking at the back of the school building.

“She made us run around the field ten times.” Taro said, eyes faraway, “Nagumo got in trouble too for tagging along.”

You smile at the memory. It was partly Nagumo’s fault too because he just couldn’t shut up about his Pocky being better than smoking cigarettes. Rion got so pissed, she started chasing him around and made quite a ruckus hence getting the four of you caught.

Osaragi chimes in, “Speaking of Nagumo, looks like he’s MIA again this year.”

You glance around, your fingers started fidgeting on the beer mug.

“I think he’s abroad at the moment, right, Honey?” Aoi asked Taro.

“Not sure, he’s gotten aloof through the years.” Taro replied.

“You used to be best buds, right? What does he do now anyway?” You asked, keeping a neutral tone.

Taro pauses his drink midair, “Photography.”

You nod slowly, humming while you nibble on barbecue. Hmm. He does like taking pictures.

Osaragi looks at you, “Were you close to him too?” The atmosphere between all of you starts to shift.

Right, she probably doesn’t know. “Yeah, a little,” you nod, smiling. You peer down on your drink— definitely not little, you thought.

In fact, you were very close to him.

Hyo doesn’t call you ‘troublemaker’ for nothing. You were truly a troubled kid back then, an alcoholic mom who hated it whenever you breathe in her direction, paired with an absent father for most of your childhood. He went abroad and remarried and would wire money for you monthly. But your mom would use that to get dead drunk on the couch after coming home from work. You had to parent yourself as you balance home life and school responsibilities while also just being a teenager. Self-isolation became your best friend not until you met Rion. You and her became instant besties, sharing almost the same sentiments and reckless behavior made you inseparable. She’s family to you.

Rion’s parents weren't the best either, she was mostly neglected growing up just like you. As good relatives do, Nagumo’s parents stepped up and took her in.

Every so often, you and Rion would sneak out and stroll the streets of Tokyo, fooling around along with her boyfriend Kei and his friends. But on days when she and Kei are fighting, she would just chill at home with you. Since Nagumo’s always home, it made you conveniently close to him too.

Before becoming friends with Nagumo, you saw him as this cocky, overly friendly bastard. He always had this stupid smile on his face. He’s captain of the basketball team, a top student, and so annoyingly good looking that girls practically throw themselves at him. Although that was all facts, he’s so much more than that. He was also kind, thoughtful and—

“I heard he got married earlier this year,” Shishiba said, his tone impassive. Your eyes shot up, breaking you away from thoughts.

“Who cares,” Hyo exclaimed, “he’s gonna rub it on our faces anyway when he comes back,” he chugs his beer mug clean, “might as well wait for him to tell us all about it.” He then orders another round of food and drinks.

They held onto the subject for far too long, you smiled along trying to hide the feeling of… disappointment.

I’m disappointed? Why?

Maybe in the back of your mind you had hoped to see him again and try to clear things up with him.

I guess that’s never gonna happen now, huh—

“Woah! Hyo’s hogging all the beer~” Yoichi Nagumo arrives at the scene.

[chapter 2 →]

[akimoroll]

— adult. she/her. mdni.

— for aki hayakawa & yoichi nagumo.

— english is not my first language.

— writing for myself because murder is frowned upon ♡

— ao3┊twitter

— nagu pfp is from ray! go follow her she’s so talented!

[akimoroll]

nagumo yoichi (sakamoto days) x reader — college au

fem reader. slight enemies to lovers. fluff. suggestive. minors dni — wc: 2.1k

if you read kr bl manhwas, this one is inspired by (my beloved) semantic error. enjoy ♡

“Oh, hell no.” Your roommate cackled as she stood beside you, looking around your desk.

You turned to her, “Should I be worried?”

“Well…” she pursed her lips, “he is a bit of a menace and popular at that.”

You snickered, “Ooh, scary.”

“Just…” she trailed off, “be careful.”

You chuckled and continued writing your notes, “It’s not like I’m gonna hang out with him. It’s just… peer tutoring.”

She walks over to her side of the room, “Whatever you say, babe. You’re a big girl.”

You watched her from the side before speaking, “So, you’re friends with him?”

She hummed, sitting on her bed, “Same circle but we’re not close,” she gasped, “You know, this might actually be a good thing for you!”

You gave her a questioning look, “Elaborate.”

“It’s your senior year. Live a little! I’m sure he could help you with that.” She grins, her eyebrows dancing.

You huffed, rolling your eyes, you continued writing, “I am living! And like I’ve said, just tutoring.” you reiterated.

That was the plan.

So why on earth—so early in the morning, in an empty study lounge—is your back pressed against the door by Nagumo with his tongue down your throat?

You place your hands on his chest as you try to push him away but he’s so much taller and stronger than you. You feel him smile against your lips. This insolent prick.

He leans down to your level with his hands cupping your cheeks. He’s so careful not to strain your neck. His gentleness made you give in, you let yourself melt into him. His kisses were soft and slow, it tasted sweet— chocolate? Oh, those coated biscuit sticks.

He always had those on him. You want some?

No, thank you.

Why not?

Not that you didn’t like it. But for some odd reason, you were hellbent on not having that scent on you— his scent, to be exact.

You have a keen sense of smell and upon meeting Nagumo, it blurred the line between it being a blessing or a curse to you. He always smelled like chocolate: when he walks in and sits across from you, when he opens his bag, when he talks to you—

And also that time when you spaced out and watched him eat the thing slowly, the way it lingered on his lips before he took a bite, the way he licked his lips. But he then smirked and you were flustered that he caught you shamelessly staring.

Now you could taste it. So much for not trying to smell like him.

He gives you a moment to catch your breath. Your eyes flutter as he starts trailing kisses down your neck. His hands running down from your shoulders to your wrists, taking the straps of your backpack along, he drops it to the floor. And when he intertwined his hands with yours, your brain nearly shut down.

“We shouldn’t do this.” you pant.

He chuckles breathily against your skin, “You’re right, we shouldn’t.” he murmured. But he doesn’t stop— biting off the button of your blouse, he takes it from his mouth and puts it in the back pocket of your jeans. He kisses further down your collarbone, leaving moist prints, sighing against your skin.

“I- Ah- I’m serious.” you stammer.

He grins, “Mhm, I bet you are.” he mumbled, before claiming your lips again. He then takes your hands and places them on his shoulders.

He deepens the kiss, pressing his body against yours. You squirm as his tattooed hands travel your back.

You ache for his touch for a split second when you feel his hand leave you.

Click.

He locked the door behind you. After realizing what he’s up to, you pulled away, “Yoichi!” You warn him quietly.

“I didn’t know a kiss could unlock first name privileges.” He teases, tucking hair strands behind your ear, he then twirls his fingers with the ends of your hair.

Just a week ago, you were so adamant on how you should address each other strictly by last name, because according to you: “We’re not friends. I’m just here to tutor you.” He inwardly chuckles at the memory and how he’s looking at you right now, enjoying the view— face flushed, hair out of place, blouse half undone, lipstick ruined. And it was all because of him.

He was intrigued by you from the start, like a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out. You didn’t laugh at his antics, didn’t smile at him once, never answered any questions outside tutoring. But at some point, it did annoy him—how much of a stuck-up you are—so much that he made sure his presence shall be known for the next following days.

You kept seeing him with his smug grin and his fuckboy outfits, it made you cringe— in the halls, near your dorms, in the cafes you go regularly to, he was everywhere.

It really didn’t bother you that much, not until he started talking to you outside of tutoring. He didn’t care if you were alone or you’re with your friends, he would come and say hi or say something out-of-pocket so casually that he’d start conversing with your friends too, and they teased you endlessly about it.

But he’s so hot! Are you blind?!

I’ll take him if you don’t want him.

Did you not see the way he was looking at you?

God, you are dense.

And then his friends started approaching you too.

Have you seen Yoichi around?

Hey, you should come to the party tonight. It’d be fun.

Oh, you can’t? That’s too bad.

You see, Nagumo wouldn’t shut up about you.

You have become so annoyingly aware of his existence that the one time he didn’t show up for tutoring, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. You couldn’t focus in class. You were subconsciously searching for him in crowds. You passed by places you’ve seen him frequently. You even passed by his frat house despite it not being your route. You even went the extra mile and asked his friends pretending you bumped into them. Your routine was in shambles that day.

Just when you’ve finally talked yourself out of it and had given up— you saw him off-campus, stepping out of a car, with a girl in the driver seat. She was so, so pretty with her turquoise hair and looked so cool smoking a cigarette. She honked at him as he watched her drive off. He then turned around with hands in his pockets, beaming as soon as he locked eyes with you.

Insecurity started creeping in, you panicked and ran off. When you finally reached the dorms, you were relieved that your roommate wasn’t there. You wouldn’t know what to say if she asked why you’re so out of breath like you were fighting for your life. It felt so unlike you, like you were in a state of malfunction. It maddened you to a degree that when he met you for tutoring this morning, he felt it radiating from you.

He was seated across from you, stealing glances your way as you occupied yourself with a book.

“Rough night?” he asked in which you didn’t answer, you didn’t even move a muscle.

To make things less awkward for you, he ripped a piece of paper from his notes and started writing: Are you mad? He gently slid it across the table.

You don’t know what has gotten you but you had an urge to write back: Why would I be mad?

Pleased that you wrote back: Idk, that’s why I’m asking.

I’m not.

He held back a chuckle. You’re not very good at lying.

You glared at him after reading his response. How could you tell? You’re probably good at it.

He snickered a little too loud. Curious about me?

You scoffed quietly and wrote: Definitely not.

He snorted from holding back his laugh— I heard you were looking for me yesterday.

You shut your eyes and took a deep breath. I wasn’t.

He stared at you for a moment too long, amused. He wrote: So my friends were lying?

I didn’t say that. You put down the pen a little too hard.

Liar, liar.

You scoffed quietly, pointing at his work sheets.

But he was persistent— Were you jealous?

You pretended you didn’t see the note. He annoyingly tapped on it, making you roll your eyes— I have no idea what you’re talking about and I don’t care. You wrote with force, visibly getting angry.

He covered his mouth, uncontrollably laughing in silence. He wrote: Lying again LOL

You ignored him again but he didn’t back down— You think she’s pretty?

Without thinking you snapped at him, “No!” Your voice vibrated through the room.

You were both surprised, “I mean yes! I mean—”

A satisfied grin flashed across his face as he witnessed such a reaction from you.

Embarrassed, you rose, stuffing your bag with your belongings.

“It’s not what you think,” he explained, still smiling, leaning forward from his seat.

“I don’t care. I didn’t ask.” You zipped your bag and stomped towards the door.

Just as you were about to reach the exit, he grabbed your arm. You snatched it away, leaving you with the ghost of his touch.

“Does your girlfriend know you like chasing random girls?” You berated him as you fully faced him.

“You’re not a random girl.” His voice low as he moved closer, towering over you.

You stepped back but he was quick to block the doorknob with his hand.

“She’s my sister,” he paused to think, “Adoptive sister, actually. If ever you’re wondering why we look nothing alike.” he says with a faint grin.

Your chin dipped down as you leaned against the door. Embarrassed by the stunt you pulled, you couldn’t look at him.

“It’s okay.” he cooed. So cute, he thought.

You stood unnaturally still after the realization that he’s standing so close to you. You couldn’t even form a witty remark, the proximity was overwhelming. You could feel his breath faintly fanning over you making your face heat up. You were speechless.

Despite your annoyingly unsmiling demeanor, he admired your intelligence and the way you carried yourself. Although he felt like you were light years away from being out of his league, he wanted to try for fun.

But something about the slight flush of your skin, the smell of your shampoo, the sound of your breathing, your chest heaving, the shape of your lips, and how you’re standing directly in front of him, so close he could touch you. He wanted more than just try and more than just fun.

You looked so pretty, so delicate and— “God, you’re so beautiful.” he blurted out.

Your eyes widened by his confession. You didn’t dare to look at him. What the hell is he on?

He swallowed, “Can I kiss you?” he asked.

You unintentionally wetted your lips.

“I’ll stop if you say so.” he mumbled.

But he knew full well he wouldn’t be able to stop once you let him.

You finally looked at him—and holy shit—he’s more handsome than you remember. He looked like he could ruin your life and you’d happily let him. Your breath hitched as his face moved closer, dark brown eyes looking at you expectantly.

He uttered your name and it felt like your heart was going to burst by the sweetness of his tone, “Anytime now.” he whispered, lips hovering yours.

“Hm?” He gives you a peck on the cheek, still playing with your hair.

What?

“Right! First names- I-” you stammer, “I was just- uh- I was…testing it out?” You grimace, feeling stupid by your answer.

He tilts his head to the side with a satisfied grin. He looked down to reach for your hands, placing wet gentle kisses on your fingers. You watch him, mouth slightly open. His eyes never leave you.

He lets go of you as he removes his jacket, wrapping you in it. “Sorry for…” he trails off, pointing at his chest to mirror yours, he smirks.

He then hears you laugh for the first time. And oh boy, he was in awe by how it sounded and the way your eyes crinkled, like he was basked under the sun. He needed to see it, dying to hear it again. And he knows it, he knows damn well he’s finished.

You lock eyes with him in silence for a moment too long. He suddenly felt shy around you. You cleared your throat making him avert his gaze. He picks up your bag.

You watch him intertwine his hand with yours, voice laced with mischief, whispering, “You wanna test it out someplace else?”

♡

[akimoroll]

Anaïs Nin, from a novel titled "A Spy in the House of Love," published in 1954

[akimoroll]

[akimoroll]

Leila Chatti, from “Tea”

[akimoroll]

i’m okay with fictional men becoming unhinged over the loves of their lives actually 

[akimoroll]

nagumo yoichi (sakamoto days) x reader

fem reader. fwb. might be ooc. slightly suggestive. mutual pining. idk what to tag anymore lmao. minors dni. — wc: 1.2k

“Ah, it tickles!” Nagumo, a longtime friend of yours—and in most occasions, your fuck buddy—is complaining about your idea yet he grins from ear to ear.

You snap at him, “Shut up, you literally let a needle poke you thousands of times.” rolling your eyes.

He chuckles as he keeps his head tilted to the side, “Alright, little miss artist. Whatever you say.” you continued to color in his neck tattoo.

You have always wanted to color in his tattoos but never had the chance. This time you got a hold of him on your living room floor, using the couch as a table for your make up kit, all of your eyeshadow palettes on full display.

“I’d rather have you kissing me there than that brush.” He says with a cheeky grin.

“And I’d rather have you tied up so shut the hell up.” You hold his jaw to keep him still, giving it a little nudge.

He smiles from ear to ear, rubbing circles on your thigh, “Look at you bossing me around.”

You raise an eyebrow, “I am the boss.” you pull away and pick a new palette, “Take off your shirt,” you say in a commanding tone.

“Yes, ma’am.” he says playfully, pulling his shirt from the back and over his head.

You watch him shake his head a bit to remove the strands of hair poking his eyes. God, he’s hot.

But because you’re so painfully prideful, you didn’t dare to admit that you find him extremely attractive, at least to his face. You know he’d tease you endlessly about it.

“Enjoying the view?” he asks, face full of mischief as he caught you gawking.

Your brows shoot up as you come down to earth. Well, he does look like heaven. Frozen from being flustered, all you could do was scowl as you held the eyeshadow palette in one hand, a brush on the other, “I’m not.” You eagerly deny.

But gods, you were. No matter how many times you’ve seen it—whether you were showering together or him changing in front of you or when you’re beneath him—you never seem to get used to it.

“You were looking at me like I’m some piece of meat.” the says, teasing you. He waits for you to react.

As you start coloring in his Praying Hands tattoo placed on the left side of his chest, you say so casually, “Well, you are just meat if I chop you into pieces.”

He scoffs lightheartedly. But then he notices you having difficulty from your position and without a second thought, he pulls you onto his lap for you to straddle him, you squeal.

“Nagumo.” you warn him, cheeks turning pink as you try to get off him.

He grabs your waist to keep you in place., “What? Better position.” he shrugs, looking up at you with his devilish smile.

You frowned and didn’t answer, you just continued where you left off.

It’s gonna be awhile until he sees you again. He’s going to miss you, he always does but he wouldn’t say something like that. The norm was to ask if you want to hangout and if it comes to it, you’d fuck. It has always been like that.

“You’re awfully quiet.” you speak softly this time without looking at him. Although you find him a little annoying when he opens his mouth, he’s still quite endearing. You miss him when he’s gone and being aware of the nature of his work doesn't help.

He beams, “I thought you wanted me to shut up?” caressing the sides of your waist.

You didn’t answer and put down the palette and brush. Wrapping your arms above his shoulders, you gaze at him.

The silence has become deafening as you stare at each other. His usual grin now replaced with something serious, something mellow, something like longing. The only thing you could hear was each other’s breathing and the buzz of the AC.

There were many unspoken things between you two but neither wanted to ‘ruin it’. It has always been obvious— you miss each other when you're together and more when you’re apart. So who’s stopping who?

It was supposed to be just casual, or so you both tried.

What do you mean ‘friendship premium’?

Come on, it’ll be fun!

You’re an idiot.

The same loop that’s been going on for years.

You sigh, picking up the eyeshadow and brush again. You pause midair, you suddenly change your mind, “I don’t wanna do this anymore.”

Huh? His brows knit for a split second. Averting his gaze, he starts looking around his body, “Here.” He points at a wing-like tattoo on the left side of his waist, grinning.

As your shoulders slump, you utter just above a whisper, “that’s not what I mean, Yoichi.”

He’s taken aback by how you uttered his name. Oh, she’s serious.

“Then what do you mean?” He softens his gaze along with his voice. The question hung in the air.

Finally you speak, “this. Whatever this is,” motioning the both of you. “I want… other things.” You mumble.

You mean us? His heart drops, “What do you mean?”

Fuck it, you think.

“What- other things, like—” he rambles but you cut him off by crashing your lips onto his.

His eyes widened. You never do anything like this, it was always him initiating, always the one reaching out, always the one chasing after you… and it feels nice.

You kiss him like never before and he lets you. He wanted to take you right then and there but he stopped himself. Instead, he smiles against your lips as he makes out with you, savoring the moment. He takes the eyeshadow palette and brush from your grasp, setting it aside as you pull him closer.

He cups your face as he gently slides it down to your shoulders. He halts the kiss, leaving you wanting more, “Tell me what you want,” pleading through his eyes, “anything.”

You swallow as he stares at you with anticipation, and yours with worry. You’ve been thinking about what you guys have for a while now, and he was too. He wanted to say something but he’s terrified you might push him away. He was content as long as he could keep seeing you—or at least that’s what he tells himself—even if he couldn’t call you his.

But you want to change that this time. And he felt it by the way you’re looking at him right now, by how you asked to spend more time with him today, the way you were embracing him moments ago as he made love to you. Something shifted and he’s sure of it.

“I-” you hesitate, you purse your lips.

He nods for you to continue. Just like how it’s always been— he waits for you.

“You, Nacchan,” you said his nickname in the most gentle way possible, you continued, “I want you to be mine.”

He holds your face as if you’re the most delicate thing in the world, he sighs. His expression softens, as soft as the way he uttered your name, “I have always been yours.”

♡