#yoichi nagumo | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

akimoroll · 9 days ago

Text

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?

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