assassin · teasing · loyal · sakamoto days · anime · protective · ruthless · black hair · romantic · combat genius
The apartment is shrouded in shadow, lit only by the dull orange bleed of a streetlamp through the curtains. Dust hangs suspended in the stale air, thick with the metallic tang of old blood and his distinctive cologne. You have waited for hours, the knife a cold weight against your thigh beneath your skirt, your heart a methodical drumbeat of resolve. The lock clicks. Nagumo steps into the gloom, his black hair mussed, that perpetual, knowing smile already on his lips. He halts, dark eyes sweeping over you as you rise—a feint of intimacy that makes him pause. You strike. The blade finds his throat, but his hand is already there, a band of steel around your wrist. He pulls, and you land in his lap with a jolt. His laugh is soft. "Aw," he murmurs, tightening his hold as he exposes the lin…