don't be afraid of me (i'm what you need)
pairing: yutamaki x reader
synopsis: After becoming best friends with Maki Zenin and meeting her boyfriend Yuta Okkotsu, you think he hates you. I mean why wouldn't he, you and Maki are close, concerningly close. However, you don't realize that contempt is far from what he feels.
contents: dubcon smut, porn with plot (+18 only.) fem!reader. spiritual successor to this piece. maki and yuta are kinda dark in this; sub!yuta? dom!maki; naive!reader; maki who does not act how a best friend is supposed to act; homophobia (not from the main three tho); stalking; cunnilingus (yuta gets lost in it); my first smut pls be nice yall
word count: ~9.1k (i know, got lost in the sauce)
playing: the diner - billie eilish
Yuta Okkotsu is staring at you.
You fold your hands together under the table, your eyes pointedly zeroing in on the menu laying on the table. Though you didn't really need it, as you and his girlfriend, Maki Zenin, had been regulars to this place as long as you had been friends. You just wished that he would stop staring at you in the way he does when he gets all cold and serious, much unlike the sweet, warm version of him that you've been told that he is when others are around.
Not that it was unusual, because all things considered, his behavior was fair.
In many ways, Maki is your saving grace. She's everything that you aren't basically: strong, brazen, no-bs, and almost everyone knows who she is because she's a star of the women's rugby team. To you it doesn't even make sense that you became friends, but to her, she'd say that you two perfectly complement each other.
Your thoughts are interrupted as Maki slides back into the booth right beside not her boyfriend, but you. Effectively caging you in from where Okkotsu's gaze had you about ready to bolt. She adjusts herself, getting comfortable on the red leather cushion. You can't miss the way Okkotsu tracks the path of her arm as it comes to rest behind you on the backrest. You swallow as you look down once more at the menu that you have almost memorized at this point.
You know exactly what this looks like. Everyone else knows exactly what this looks like. But this is just who she was, confident, and so open about how much she cared for you as a friend. She doesn't just talk to you in the class you two share, she walks with you across campus to take you to your next one, you eat meals with her in the dining halls, she invites you to her ridiculously early gym sessions (which you sparingly went to), and you hang out with her at almost every free chance that you have. She's managed to weasel her way into every facet of your life, hers almost completely consuming yours. And who are you to be upset about it? It's not like you had that many friends to begin with.
That's why when Maki finally told you about him three months into your friendship, you couldn't stop the shock from bleeding onto your face. Not because you couldn't imagine her with a boyfriend, she's totally gorgeous so it'd actually surprised you when you first met that she never brought one up, no, it's just in all the time that you've known her, she'd never mentioned him once. Hell, you were even sitting in her apartment, and there was not even a trace that a man frequented the space. Looking down at the selfie she showed you, it was least a year or two old at that point. You took in a younger version of Maki with one of her rare genuinely happy smiles, and the boy she had her arm wrapped around, a gentle yet pleasant look on his face.
“So what do you think,” she had asked you back then. You weren't sure if she meant the whole secret boyfriend reveal, or his appearance.
Staring at the light blush on his cheeks that was visible even through the pixelated image, you go with the latter.
“He's cute,” you muttered, still distracted by the absurdity of it all.
What you didn't notice was the quirk of her eyebrow from where she was seated behind your shoulder.
The sweet visage that you gazed upon in the photo is nothing like the man sitting in front of you. He has been hardened by time, his hair longer, and dark bags gathered under his eyes. A hint of that boy —that warmth— shows up each time his gaze shifts back to Maki. But none for you. It's not like you can blame him.
You can only imagine what you look like to Yuta, some girl who spent more time with his girlfriend than he did. So much so to the point where it drew weird looks from people all around campus.
The longer you sit at this table, the more frightened you've become that he'd drop his collected attitude and make a scene for the whole restaurant to gawk at.
“So, what were you two talking about?"
Maki's voice carries through the short distance between the three of you. You say nothing for a moment, peeking up at Yuta, who also continues to stay silent, but his expression had notably warmed back into the expression that he always seems to wear around Maki. You dropped your head again in embarrassment ? shame?
“Nothing much.” He answers for the both of you.
The suspicion on Maki's face was evident as she peeks down at the way that your face is still tucked into your chest. She scoffs.
“Yeah, like I believe that.”
Because you haven't lifted your gaze you miss the look the two share, how Maki raises her eyebrows and he shrugs a bit, an amused smile lingering on his lips. She rolls her eyes once more, though Yuta can't miss the mirth swimming in her gaze.
“Not that I expected you two to have anything to talk about anyways.” At her point, you finally lift your gaze, completely unprivy to the silent conversation between the two.
“I mean, I am the only point of similarity, aren't I?” Your eyes meet hers at that, and you can see the humor there.
“Yeah, I mean, I guess so.” Emboldened by Maki's presence, you become brave enough to share your voice at the table, though you can't help the way your lips pull down into a pout. You pretend to ignore how the humored look in Maki's eyes become mirrored in Okkotsu's as he looks down at you.
“But now I'm ready to learn all about you.” Okkotsu confirms, like he hasn't been sizing you up the entire time that he's been sitting across from you. You swallow dryly as your gaze meets his, unable to completely decipher the look in them.
“There's not much about me to know,” you counter, feeling a bit like an animal in a trap. He hums, the look in his gaze as sharp as ever, fingering the straw in his soda. Your eyes track the movement.
“I wouldn't be so sure about that.”
For the week following that awkward first meeting with Okkotsu, you have taken to subconsciously distancing yourself from Maki. You can no longer ignore the how the outside perspectives of your friendship with Maki have begun to sink in. How on earth would you feel if your partner spent more time with their best friend than you? Doing all of the things with them that you would and should be able to do with them. Out of complete respect from Maki you've decided that maybe it's best that the two of you aren't so close anymore. Because that's why he had such a weird look in his face at the restaurant, right?
Your plan doesn't really work all that well. It doesn't work at all actually because Maki seems to know exactly what you were doing even before you had fully executed your plan.
After a Sunday of declining offers to hang out and study and eat, she's standing right outside of your final lecture of the day as you exit. You jump in surprise, although you really shouldn't. All things considered, this is normal behavior for her. What isn't normal are her furrowed brows and sharp glare as she zeros in on your figure.
You look behind you at the gaggle of students in the hall, weighing your chance of slipping away just from sheer embarrassment and partial fear (as you can distinctly recall the way Maki pummels down her opponents in rugby) when she steps right into your escape path.
She regards you with a stiff posture, and a single raised eyebrow.
“So you've just taken to ignoring me then?” A cold pearl of sweat rolls down your temple.
“What no!” You immediately attempt to appease her. The deep frown on her face details how unconvinced she is.
“It was just— I was just trying to—” You flounder, trying to simultaneously come up with a good excuse and avoid looking at the furrow deepening between her brows.
“Was it Yuta?” The mention of her boyfriend gives you pause. Your shoulders slump, adrenaline melting out of your body.
With a weak voice you surrender, “I just don't want to make him upset.”
A long second stretches between you as you stew in guilt, not even sure what it's fully directed towards. You jump as she barks out a laugh. You're know sure how what you said was funny, but Maki apparently thinks so, as a grin stretches across her face.
“That's probably the last thing you've done.” Your brows furrow in confusion.
“But at the restaurant he looked—”
“Yuta's an idiot, he's always been bad at expressing his feelings.” You have no idea how to even begin to answer that or to even think about the idea that Okkotsu didn't hate you. How else were you supposed to interpret that look that he gave you?
She doesn't let you stew in your uncertainty, wrapping her hand around your upper arm and pulling you down the hall.
You barely have to question where she is taking you, recognizing the path to her dorm like the back of your hand.
It's only once you she opens her door and recognize the second pair of shoes sitting just inside the doorway that you decide to say something.
“Maki wait, I don't know about this." You dig your heels into the floor just outside the threshold.
With her strength, however, you are barely even a hindrance.
“I told you, he doesn't care.”
You're not given another chance to object as she fully pulls you in. She calmly pulls off her boots, kicking them besides the pair you know to be Okkotsu's. You can't bring yourself to do the same, body tense as she walks further into the space, plopping herself onto the couch.
She looks over her shoulder at you, amusement curling the side of her lip as she gazes at where you anxiously linger besides the door.
“What are you waiting for?” You look at her, and peek around the living space once more like Okkotsu is going to jump out of nowhere to scare you.
Banishing the obviously irrational fear, you take a deep breath, finally pulling off your shoes to go sit beside her on the couch.
As you sit, her arm comes to rest behind your shoulders. Your back is rod straight, looking everywhere but where her green eyes scan your profile, unshrouded from the glasses that normally cover them.
The silence stretches between the two of you, unbroken by witty quips, bad jokes, or simple conversation like it normally would be. Instead, the incessant tick of the clock speaks for the both of you, and hyperaware, every click of the second hand digs deeper into your skin.
Her exhale barely brushes the skin of your exposed neck from where she's facing you. Goosebumps rise on your skin. She's waiting, content to watch you squirm. Knowing her, this is probably some sort of retribution for her. A revenge for how you dared to avoid her over the weekend.
Your gaze drops to your lap.
Your head swivels to meet hers. Unable to fully make out the emotion floating in her gaze, aside from the way that she is almost looking through you.
You shake your head in disbelief. “But I'm—”
She holds up a hand to stop you.
“You were being stupid,” she shrugs, thinks for a second, then adds on, “like Yuta.”
“But if you ever decide to do something that stupid again." She stares deep into your eyes as her next words chill you to your core, “I can't promise that I'll be this forgiving again.”
You wordlessly nod, unable to say anything else.
But the moment passes, and so does the dark look in her eyes.
“So what do you want to watch then?” You're barely able to swallow the hard lump in your throat as you detach your gaze from hers. The shelf underneath the television is filled with rows of familiar cd cases. Perusing them carefully, trying to ignore the way that your pulse still hadn't settled both from Maki's threat and the invisible presence of Okkotsu you know to be lingering around the corner. That look Maki gaze you was one that you had seen before, but had not once been directed at you. At opponents on the rugby field, or drunk boys who thought you were an easy lay at parties? Yes, you had seen it all the time. But to have that look directed towards you, you're finally starting to understand why so many people turn the other way when they see her coming in the hallways. Pushing your thoughts to the back of your head, your gaze finally settles on one film. You go to voice your choice, when the presence that you've been dreading fills the threshold into the hallway.
Your voice dies in your throat as your gaze connects with Okkotsu's. A beat passes.
“So did you do it?" Maki's voice interrupts your staring contest. His gaze breaks from yours at he looks at her from where she's seated right beside you. He has nothing to say about her close proximity.
Your eyes find your fingers in your lap, as they so often do in his presence, completely missing the way a sly smile makes its way onto his face at your fidgety nature.
He hums in assent to Maki's question, making his way fully into the living room. You look up at the both of them, eyes flicking between the two, trying to understand the silent conversation.
Maki fills you in immediately. “We ordered takeout.” Your lips part in understanding as you nod.
“Don't worry,” there is a soft lilt to Okkotsu's voice as he speaks, but it doesn't do much to comfort you, “I made sure to get your favorite.”
The emphasis on the I is lost on no one in the room. But even then, your brain turns in circles, not fully wanting to process what possible insinuation he could be making.
He's making fun of you, you conclude. That must be it. Because any other option just can't be possible.
Okkotsu, who must be unknowing to your inner turmoil, sits calmly on your other side. Your muscles tighten as you realize that you are stuck between the two, a bunny ensnared in a trap.
“Have you decided what to watch yet?” Maki asks yet again. Finding an out, you almost leap from your chair as you dive for the cd shelf.
“Y-yeah,” the stutter betrays your nerve as you curse inwardly. You grab the first film you hand could reach, “I was thinking this one.” You sit back on your knees on the floor as you turn to show Okkotsu and Maki the film that you're holding.
Maki simply hums, her lack of rejection is agreement enough in itself.
“That's a good one,” Okkotsu offers. Your lips part.
“Of course I do.” His eyes glitter, as you avert your gaze back down to the CD case that you're holding, finally reading the title. You know that he knows that you didn't actually look at the movie you picked. He was making fun of you, of course he was. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you pull the disk out of its case before pushing it into the CD player. The once dark television screen comes to life to the disc player menu. You're unsettled by his agreeable attitude, though you're trying your hardest not to show it, knowing that you're probably failing spectacularly. Also, by knowing that the two of them are staring hard into your back, silently.
You clear your throat, pushing yourself to your feet as you move back to the only open spot on the couch—still stuck between the two of them. Your hands twist together in your lap, as you barely relax into the couch.
The next ten or so minutes go by just like that, in painful silence, at least for you. You can't even pretend to be entertained by whatever is going on the screen even though it's a film that in any other circumstance you would be enjoying. You're instead hyper focused on the brief passes of Maki's fingers over your exposed neck and the soft puffs air that gently brush your hair as Okkotsu exhales. There's an almost imperceptible brush of fingers on the side of your thigh that Okkotsu is sitting on. You tense as you feel it, he couldn't possibly be—
The moment is broken by the sharp raps on the door. The three of you look over at the same time. You take the moment to look down at where you were sure his hand was, but they're both now perched in his lap.
“That must be the food,” Okkotsu remarks. Maki hums in agreement.
You must have imagined it then.
“I'll get it then.” She's off the couch before you can voice an aversion at her leaving you with Okkotsu. She disappears into the short hallway that leads to the door. As soon as she does, Okkotsu turns his head to look at you instead. He says nothing for a moment before speaking.
“You can just call me Yuta, you know.” Your eyes dart to his. You can't exactly decipher the look on his face, but there must be enough of a question on yours, so he answers.
“Maki told me that you always refer to me as Okkotsu, so." The casualness, the simple familiarity of his name is something that you feel like you don't deserve. You don't even know if it's something that you fully want.
“No that's okay, I don't want to make you uncomfortable—”
“You're not making me uncomfortable,” he interrupts. “All my friends call me Yuta, and I want us to be friends too."
“..” Your brain lags like a faulty computer at his words, your lips unable to do anything except silently open and close from the lack of words able to form on your tongue. But Okkotsu Yuta smiles brightly at your tongue-tied disposition. His hand reaches over to where yours is still resting on your lap, just as his fingers brush the back of your hand, Maki announces her return with the food.
Yuta spares you one last warm glance before getting up to help her set the food out on the counter.
You stare at the spot where his fingers touched.
The bass of the sound playing over the loudspeakers vibrates your body. Your hands cling tighter to the red cup you have grasped between them. What drink was this, three maybe? Four? On top of the shots you and Maki took before leaving her apartment. You hate to admit that you've lost count. You hate even more to admit that you don't care that you've lost count. But this is what parties were for right? To let loose and let go of the incessant troubles that have been swarming your mind.
So yes, maybe you've been nothing but focused on your best friend, and her boyfriend, the two of them, like curses imprinted onto your mind and soul. You should be having fun, you should be, the music is good for once, and this particular cup of jungle juice is actually enjoyable. But thrum of the bass has started sloshing around the alcohol in your stomach and is making you feel pretty nauseous.
Where was Maki? She disappeared just a moment ago, pulled away by a mutual friend or teammate or something. You pout as you scan the crowd of sweaty bodies, none of the figures matching her silhouette.
A tap on your back interrupts your perusal, and you swivel, albeit clumsily, and a pair of unfamiliar hands come to steady you. Your eyes follow the hands up to a face your drunk mind can't place.
It's a boy. Another student you presume, and he grins at you, irregardless of the confused expression you know you're supplying.
“Hey, you're Maki's friend, right?” At the name of your best friend, you're sure you get even more confused and apprehensive at this stranger who still hasn't taken his hands off of you. You wordlessly nod. He grins even wider somehow.
“You're pretty cute you know.” You immediately tense at his words, trying to pull back and escape the situation. You vehemently wish that Maki will return at any moment, saving you from this too-forward stranger as she usually does. But she doesn't. And your drunken tongue is tangled in your mouth, trying to twist into words that appease the way you know men can become violent when rejected.
“Haha thanks but no," you laugh awkwardly as you continue trying to pull out of his hold, "I'm not interested.” Your rejection doesn't deter him, no. Instead, his grin grows into something slimy and foul. You can't predict the next words that come out of his mouth.
“Is it true then? Are you two and Maki lesbos for one another?”
Your body freezes in shock in result of his audacity, mind and mouth floundering for an answer. He pulls you even closer still, uncaring at the way you careen backwards, avoiding his face. At his proximity, you can smell the stench of alcohol coming off of him in waves. Your free hand pushes against his arm, though in your uncoordinated state, your strength is greatly depleted. Disgust swells through your body,
He leers at you. His body completely invading your space. “That doesn't matter to me though, I've always wanted to—” In just a second, the stranger's grip leaves your body and the wide expanse of someone's back fills your vision. You recognize the white jacket, you don't think you've seen Yuta not wear it when he's been outside like this. He's not touching you, but he's close enough to the point where you can feel the warmth of his body radiating through the cloth covering his back. After the chill of disgust that had previously overtaken your body, you can't help but be drawn to it.
Your attention is directed to the scoff of the stranger who is now separated by Yuta's body. You can't make out his face, but the stranger's expression is perfectly clear over Yuta's shoulder. His sneer almost splits his face in two as he stares into Yuta's face.
“Back off." The iciness of Yuta's tone shocks you, the timbre hostile to even you, who has been on the receiving end of his ire for weeks. But this is entirely different. Though you still can't see his face, a frost rushes through your body. And the stranger, whom you still don't know the name of, must feel exactly what you do, because at whatever expression Yuta is making, his own drops into something that you can only describe as fear. You're almost flabbergasted because Yuta, sweet to everyone Yuta except for you (with reason), has this guy a look away from pissing his pants. You're tempted to peak around to look, but before you're even able to, the stranger scoffs, raising his hands in surrender before fleeing.
The muscles in Yuta's back barely relax before he's turning to you, face already made up into his usual pleasant expression. Your eyes flicker from his face to the retreating back of stranger, lips attempting to form a sentence to make sense of what just happened.
“Are you okay?” Yuta's voice interrupts your attempt. His eyes are sincere, more sincere than you've ever think you've seen them before.
“Um,” you swallow, “yeah, I think so.” He nods in understanding.
“It was pretty scary though, right?” His voice is low as he asks, effortlessly sympathizing with you. Immediately the scene from only a moment ago floods back into you mind, along with the disgust and the fear and the shock. You nod, barely able to swallow past the lump in your throat.
“Yeah I-”, you swallow as Yuta waits patiently for you to finish your sentence, “I think I need to go outside." He nods once, and before you can say anything else, he's taking your hand and pulling you through the throng of sweaty college students.
Surprised by his haste, you immediately think of who you were waiting for, voicing your concern.
“Don't worry, I'll text her once we get outside,” he tells you from over his shoulder. You're not even sure how he heard you over the noise. He keeps going until he's pulled you through the kitchen and out the back door, past the group smoking around the firepit, around the corner to a secluded stretch of wall. Once Yuta stops, he turns to face you fully, and the nearby porch lights deepen the shadows on his face, presenting an almost frightening picture. You think back to the stranger who fled in the party, is this the version of Yuta that he saw? He shifts once, and the shadows move, dissipating the hallowed creature who had taken over his face.
“It's a lot easier to breath out here, yeah?” He asks, and you nod without even fully processing what he's said, still trying to reckon with the version of him that you didn't even know existed until now. He looks at you for a long moment, and for some reason, your heartbeat flutters rapidly in your chest, to the point where you're scared that he'll hear it. But he seems to find whatever he's looking for, and turns away to pull his phone out of his pocket.
Your heart continues to thrum as you look at Yuta's side profile. In your drunken mind, you're able to admit things that you would never dare to otherwise entertain. Like the fact that he's quite cute. Your fist tightens at the thought, red plastic crinkling beneath it. Your gaze drops in surprise at the cup you didn't even realize you were still holding. You peak past it's rim, swirling the red concoction around, the funneling liquid entrancing your mind, reflecting the swirling thoughts that continue to consume you. Maki who acts way more than a best friend should. Maki who acts like your whole relationship is nothing weird to her. Maki who spends more time with you than her own boyfriend Yuta. Yuta protecting you against that guy. Yuta looking out for you. Yuta saying that he wants to be your friend. Yuta wanting to learn all about you. Yuta who was quite frankly confusing the fuck out of you, because he was supposed to hate you, and Maki who doesn't seem to notice his strange behavior. Looking down at the swirling liquid, the words leave you before you're able to stop them.
“You can stop now,” the filter of embarrassment that normally twists your tongue in front of Yuta has been significantly weakened by the alcohol running through your veins.
He pockets his phone as his eyebrow raises at your uncharacteristic outburst and the way you fully pout at him.
You scoff, leaning back against the wall you've been leaning on. You swish your drink around its plastic cup, the sound filling the space between you.
“Pretending to like me for Maki's sake.” For some reason you're hyperaware of his cologne, the soft and musky scent floating between the two of you, gently coaxing you to keep talking. You almost loath to admit how much it's influencing you, its power almost as strong as the liquor. Your gaze breaks from his then, looking down into your cup at the murky red liquid. “I know you hate me, I mean it's not like I can blame you, I spend so much time with your girlfriend, if I were in your shoes I would hate me too, I understand—” the soft brush of fingers against your temple interrupt you. Your eyes jump to where Yuta has considerably closened, and in the drunken haze of your mind you can barely perceive the look in his eyes nor how he has basically cornered you against the wall.
He continues to silently gaze at you as his fingers continue their path across your face. You can feel the gentle scrape of his callouses, no doubt from his years as the goalie of the school's soccer team. Your lips part in question.
“Your hair was in your face,” he calmly supplies, “I want to see you as you explain how much I hate you.”
Heat immediately floods your face at his accusation. Also, at the warmth of his palm still on the left the side of your face. You want to duck your face at how deeply he's studying you, but his grip allows for no such movement.
Your drunken bravado still provides you no shame, however.
“See, this is what I mean!” You shrug off his hand then, but still stubbornly look into his eyes. “You always have these like, these like, quips or whatever.” You can't help the way your eyes haze over with a sheen of tears, the weeks of embarrassment and mortification finally starting to take their toll on your psyche. Yuta watches closely as they glitter. “And they always make me feel so bad about everything.” The final words slurring together because of your blood-alcohol level, and the way that your throat forms a lump in your distress.
You almost want to smack yourself at losing it like this in front of the one person that you probably shouldn't have. You sniffle, willing the tears down, but they don't obey as one slides down your cheek. The path is obstructed, however, by Yuta, who has come even more closer to wipe it off.
You have to tilt your head back to look into his eyes. And although there are about a few thousand warning sirens going off in your head, in your inebriated state for some reason you can only focus on his eyes. The dark blue, that in this light almost seems black, or, you notice, could be because his pupils have almost completely swallowed the midnight shade.
Is he on something? You can't help but think. Maybe alcohol like you, or some other recreational drug you know is floating around the party. A soft chuckle interrupts your pondering, and you zone back into Yuta who has begun to carefully caress your cheek with the thumb he used to wipe the tear. Heat floods into the skin underneath his thumb.
“I don't hate you,” he carefully remarks, like he's waiting for you to understand something. But you can't, at least not right now, because all you can notice is the soft smile that has made its way onto his face. The same smile that was in that photo Maki showed you forever ago that you called cute. The same smile that so many people have received from him. But not you. Never you. Until now.
Several things happen all at once.
Conflicting thoughts clash in your head.
Something rotten turns in your stomach.
The breath from his lips softly ghosting over yours.
Maki walks from around the corner, finally.
She pauses at the scene in front of her. Your head swivels, fear entangling itself with the knot already churning in your gut. Yuta goes to say something, his hand still holding your face.
You turn and empty your stomach on the grass between the three of you.
The humiliation of vomiting in front of Maki and Yuta follows you the morning after. Even though the both of them tried to placate you after the fact, the humiliation stays, seeped deep into your bones.
And beyond that, Yuta's revelation continues to consume your thoughts.
And the way it almost felt like he was going to kiss you?
Because what do you say to those things? How to make sense of the way he had acted the first time you met?
You can't. Or you don't want to at least.
And you can't pull another disappearing act because the week after the party, Yuta has made it his personal mission to show up every where he knows you'll be.
You don't think much of it at first.
At 11am the morning after the party, a knock rings out through your tiny one bedroom. You lay in bed for a moment hoping that the person will go away, thinking they have a wrong address. A moment passes before another knock rings out, and you groan, barely having enough energy and coordination to pull yourself out of bed. Your stomach lurches as soon as you're standing upright, the hangover nausea not at all agreeing with you.
But you pull yourself together, treacherously trekking to the front door, pulling it open without checking who is through the keyhole first. You open your mouth ready to curse the person out for making you move in your state when the words die on your lips at the fact that it's Yuta standing right outside of your door.
“Oh,” you say weakly, “hi Yuta.”
He smiles brightly, so much so it's almost too much for you at what you consider to be an early hour.
Still thoroughly confused at his presence, you slowly blink, looking past him, scanning the hallway on either side of him.
Wordlessly understanding you in the way that he's good at, he responds to your apparent confusion.
“Maki's not here, it's just me.”
Looking back at him, confusion only deepening the furrow in your brow.
“..but I asked her to give me your address, I brought this for you!” He raises the plastic bags in either hand that you didn't realize he was holding, slightly waving them back and forth.
“Oh!” You lean closer to make out the shapes of what you know to be to-go containers in the bags.
He smiles, confirming your assessment.
“I brought you some food for your hangover.”
You blush at the reminder of vomiting all over the grass in front of him and Maki.
Wincing, you go to apologize in the way that you did multiple times the night before.
Before you can, Yuta shakes his head, dismissing it.
“— how about you accept this as forgiveness then?” He raises the food once more. You look between the bags and him, your stomach continuing to churn.
“… are you sure?” The question leaves you after much pause.
He eyes crescent as he smiles again, “of course!” You pause again, still guilty as what you still see as generosity you don't deserve. At your hesitance, he pushes the bags out to you, almost forcing them into your arms.
You look down at what you're now sure is bags full of food. The unmistakable waft of shijimi miso soup floats up to your nose.
You look back at Yuta, a thousand and one questions all over your face.
He gives you no response.
Instead he smiles brightly, the one you're still not used to receiving and calmly turns to walk back down the hall.
You stare listlessly at his retreating back.
Yuta seems to pop up everywhere after that. Outside of your classes, in the library, waiting for you outside of your apartment with an umbrella when it's raining, in his car when your studying runs late. You startle when you realize after the fifth appearance or so that he's basically replaced Maki. Showing up where you'd be expecting to see her.
You try really hard to not think too much about it. He is just putting in the effort to be your friend right? And Maki is giving him the space to do so.
But it doesn't explain the other times that you though you caught a glimpse of Yuta. In moments that you couldn't exactly explain.
Moments where you could swear you see a flash of that familiar coat out the corner of your eye when you're shopping. Or trailing you on walks back from late night runs to your corner store. And in the worst and possibly most unexplainable moment, in the back of the restaurant where you got stood up on a date. Your eyes definitely must have been playing a trick on you then in your distress. Why would Yuta be in the location of your date that you didn't even dare to tell Maki about? It was impossible.
So much so that you try your hardest not to ponder on it when Maki invites you over for your next movie night. As your eyes pass over the familiar white sneakers by the door, you also try your hardest not to think back to the last movie night, and the ghostly touch you could have sworn was Yuta.
Your eyes fall on Maki and Yuta already perched comfortably on the couch, Maki sprawled in her usual fashion, Yuta politely, but still comfortably sat. But you can't miss the gap between them, left for no one else but you.
Their conversation ceases as they spot you, Maki's lips already curling up into that familiar curl.
She pats the spot between the two of them.
"Come sit, you're late." If you hadn't've been back-and-forth for twenty minutes debating whether or not to come you're sure you would've been on time.
"Sorry," you supply sheepishly, "my assignment took me longer than normal."
You catch the way they share an almost impercievable look. Your skin prickles, there's no way they could know you were lying.
It's Yuta who speaks next, and your eyes jump to his figure as he nods down to the food spread on the table.
"That's alright, we made sure to get your favorites."
His smile is soft, gentle. Almost too much so for the way you can see how his muscles are corded tight underneath that ever present white jacket.
You force a smile across your face.
A long second passes as they both stare at you, waiting.
You swallow, moving to sit between the two of them. These are your friends, there's no reason to be nervous.
Sinking down in the cushions, you will yourself to relax as you settle.
Maki moves first, reaching out to a bottle of sake resting on the table. The lid cracks open as she pours three shots.
She wordlessly hands one to each of you, and you will the tremor out of your hand as you take yours.
She raises her shotglass, her eyes twinkling at her next words.
"To strong friendships." A long moment passes as her and Yuta look at you, waiting for you to bring the glass to your lips, a tension you can't name crackling in the space between.
In your state, you probably should want to be sober. But with the way paranoia and fear and hesitation has taken over your life since you met Yuta, you can't but want one night with them where you're not second guessing everything you say or think.
Yuta grins and Maki whoops as you bring the glass to your lips.
One bottle quickly turns into two. Two blurs into three. Assisted by the way Maki and Yuta continue to pour you shots, eventually in your haste to drink away the weird feeling you were having about the two of them, you start to feel like you're floating with the amount of alcohol you've consumed.
You don't know what you're giggling about, but the bubbly bursts of laughter won't cease.
"What's so funny sweet girl?" Maki's hand sweeps the hair off your shoulder so that she can look at Yuta across the couch from where you've ended up in her lap.
Not an unfamiliar position exactly, you could recall moments pre-Yuta when you didn't think twice about sitting with her like this, but if you were sober you'd feel more shame about how you're sinking into her strong figure.
You shrug, muttering, "I dunno." Though the drunken smile still has not left your lips.
A soft smile lingers on Yuta's mouth, from his close proximity to you on the couch, notably closer than he was earlier. You can feel the heat of his thigh from where it just barely brushes yours.
"Is that so?" His question floats between the two of you.
You hum your assent, though your lips turn down into a pout at the idea that they're making fun of you, the question immediately flowing from you.
Yuta's smile deepens, as you feel Maki's body bounce underneath you in restrained laughter.
"Of course not sweetheart," Yuta replies first, creeping ever closer to you, his hands now ghosting over your ankles, the sensation barely processing in your hazed mind.
"Then why are you laughing at me?" You pout. Yuta glances over your shoulder, and you miss the conversation that flows between them in that one look.
You jump at the feel of Maki's lips pressed right under your ear.
"Because you're so cute." She whispers, the sensation sending shivers right down your spine.
Your brain struggles to process, connecting Maki's words to the way her lips continue pressing soft pecks down the side of your neck.
"Come on." Her lips brush your skin as she talks. "Don't act you didn't know."
"I don't—" Your mind lags, shock freezing your body. Her hands sweep up your leg, goosebumps trailing in their wake.
"I mean, friends don't act the way we act." She laughs, this time the bounce of her body making you acutely aware of the way her hips are tightly pressed into yours.
Her hands continue their path, reaching the hem of your already short skirt. Instinctively, your legs push together to halt her path, though her strong arms make quick work of pushing them apart.
"None of that now." Her hands finding exactly what she was looking for— the embarrassingly damp seat of your panties. You gasp as her fingertips brush over the wet fabric, fingertips pushing into the crevice of your most intimate part.
"You were never just a friend to me." Her nose nudges deeper into the flesh on your neck, shivers racing down your back as she breaths you in. "And I know that I'm not to you either."
"Don't lie." Her fingers sleuth up the material, electric pulses racing down your back as she finds the bundle of nerves. Tightly rubbing slow circles, your breath shakes on its escape.
"You're my best friend right?"
Your answer is immediate even in the tsunami of complicated feelings.
"Then you'll let us do this."
You jump at the feeling of wet lips pressed into your ankle, almost completely haven forgotten about the other person in the room.
Your eyes shoot down to where Yuta is crouched over your leg, pressing wet kisses to the slope of your leg. A deep breath escapes you at the feel of his tongue swirling around the skin with each press of his lips.
"I was wondering when you were going to make a move." Maki remarks, her fingers persisting in their slow circles, your body temperature raising with each pass.
"Didn't—." He interrupts himself with another kiss like he couldn't dare part with your soft skin, this one in the middle of your calf, lifting your leg to reach the area. "—want to interrupt your moment". Your skin heats as more of your crotch is revealed to the room, conditioned air cooling your damp center.
"I'm surprised you lasted that long, knowing how long you've wanted this." You can feel the way Maki's lips lift into a smirk at her words.
Even in the onslaught of pleasure, her words are enough to give you pause.
She laughs once more, her own leg kicking Yuta who groans at the sensation.
"He's had such a pathetic crush on you since I've showed you his picture." She admits shamelessly.
He pants up your leg, not at all deterred by what would otherwise be an embarrassing revelation.
"How long ago was that?" She asks the room, her lips connect to your neck, electric pulses racing down your body collecting in your cunt, the fabric of your panties ever darkening by the actions of the two.
Cold water douses your being at the revelation, unable to withhold the gasp that escapes. In perfect synchronicity, the two moan, mistaking your surprise with pleasure.
"Maki you're embarrassing me." Yuta mutters against your skin.
She sneers. "You can't be embarrassed, imagine having a crush on my best friend. You're lucky I'm even sharing her."
"And I'm so lucky that you are." He breathes out against your skin, his lips now on the inside of your thighs, pushing the soft flesh apart to make more skin accessible to him.
He sucks and nips, printing deep bruises into the flesh, each one releasing little sparks that ever cloud your brain.
Though you barely react, the revelation circles through your brain. So that means the weird feelings you were picking up weren't him hating you, but the complete opposite.
"But I thought you hated me?" Your voice barely loud enough to breach the heavy atmosphere between the three of you. His head raises at the question, his dark pupils almost completely swallowing the navy of his eyes, just like that night at the party.
"I already told you." His words remind you again of that night. "I can't hate you. Not when you—" His sharp inhale interrupts whatever confession was at the tip of his tongue, whole body sinking into the couch as Maki pushes the rest of your skirt out of the way to bare you to his gaze.
Most importantly to the way Maki's fingers still patiently, and as much as you don't want to admit it, painfully keep their slow pace. Enough to continue to rile you up, but not nearly enough to push you over the edge.
You squirm under her administrations and the way Yuta stares down at the damp fabric, and Maki's circling finger.
He's so close you can feel the warm exhale of his pants, though he makes no move to get closer, absolutely frozen in lust.
"God he's so pathetic for you isn't he?" Maki addresses you this time. "I should be jealous that he's so attracted to you like this but I get it." With each line, her circles get harder and harder, the combined weight and friction against the cotton zipping through your veins. You whimper at the finally rising pleasure, and the more you react, the more Yuta does, his back rising and falling quicker and quicker as his breath picks up.
"It's so hot." She finishes, her mouth raising into a grin against your throat.
You and Yuta moan out at the same time as Maki's fingers make unrestricted contact on your clit, in a split second after having pulled your panties to the side. The feeling immediately amplified by the raw feeling. She moans out against your neck as her fingers coat in the slick steadily pouring out of you.
"Look at him," she whispers, and you focus on the way Yuta is shaking, muscles barely restrained. "You can touch her Yuta." At her command, his hand comes up to hover over your cunt, not fully touching, reverently hovering like he still can't believe you're right in front of him.
"He can touch you, right baby?" Your back arches in her hold as she nuzzles your clit between her middle and index finger, successfully emptying out your mind aside from the pleasure she is giving you.
"Yes," you breath into the air, forgetting the weeks of weirdness and discomfort, only wanting more.
At your approval, Yuta finally makes contact, fitting his fingers underneath Maki's, carefully sliding though your silken folds. He moans at the feeling, entranced by the way you coat his fingers. Dazed, he pulls the fingers up that were tracing you, and slowly puts them in his mouth, swirling his tongue around them.
He moans at the taste, entire body wracking with shivers.
He looks up at you once more, not a single speck of his blue eyes present with the way his irises have been blacked out.
He's muttering something, quick in rapid succession, and you're barely able to make out the "i'm sorry I have to I have to" before he licks deeply into the folds of your cunt.
"Yuta!" The shout jumps out of your throat, back arching into Maki's.
Your thighs snap shut around his head, though his hands wrap around them, forcing them apart. He groans into you, tongue ferocious against you like he wants to taste all of you at the same time.
Your skin heats with the downright filthy noises that he's producing, slurping your wetness into his eager mouth. His adam apple bobs with each swallow, pushing closer until his nose bumps where Maki's fingers are still rubbing your slit.
"So good." Yuta's voice vibrates against you, barely lifting his head to respond and you moan at the sensation.
Your legs jump as his tongue presses into you, reaching deep into your wet cavern. A full body tremor takes over him as he feels the way your pussy squeezes his tongue. Electricity zips up your spin as he finds your spot, your moans rising in pitch and volume, pleasure taking over your body.
Maki grins, lips stretching over your cheek.
"He found it didn't he?" You nod, squeezing your eyes shut at the barrage of feeling.
"No, no baby." She uses her free hand to tap your cheek, bringing you back to the scene between the three of you. "Stay with us. Look at him. He's wanted this for so long." Your eyes flitter back down to where Yuta moves himself as close as possible, pushing your hips up, effectively folding you to provide the best angle for access to your cunt.
You don't have the mental space to even process what Maki is saying, as Yuta takes the new position to push his tongue into your g-spot, heat building and rushing underneath your skin building into something you can barely process.
Your breath shudders as Maki continues rubbing, swirling that little button, lubricated by the rush of sweet liquid that continues rushing out of you with their dual assault. Yuta inside of you, Maki on the outside, attacking you from the same spot.
Your abdomen tightens as you climb higher and higher, to the precipice of the greatest force of pleasure that you've felt in your entire life. Even in your haze, you can't ignore the way Yuta's hips grind down into the plush of the couch, like he's unaware that he's even doing it. You also can't ignore the way Maki's breath shudders as her hips swivel into your ass perched on her lap, invigorated by your mutual pleasure.
"That's it baby," she pants, "just a little more."
You whimper, body trembling as you leak down Yuta's chin, darkening the couch fabric. Sensing your peak, Maki doubles down, fingers speeding up to the point to where they're almost vibrating, Yuta basically fucking you with his tongue, nailing that spot inside of you with each pass.
You curse into the air, one hand grabbing onto Maki's arm, the other sliding into Yuta's sweat-dampened hair, gripping for dear life.
"I-I-" your voice breaks as you're thrown off the cliff, back arching and vision whiting out in your climax.
Maki and Yuta fall with you, simultaneous moans echoing through the apartment as they release into their underwear.
Your mind floats back down the earth, barely tethered by the way the two still hold onto you.
You come to, twitching with overstimulation as Yuta kitty licks your cunt, like he's cleaning off his plate after a meal. You use the hand in his hair to try to push him off, whining, though he tightens his grip like he can't dare to part from you.
"Yuta please," you whimper. He doesn't respond, only whining himself.
Maki intervenes, her hand landing over you, to help. At her touch, he obeys, detaching his mouth from you, though it immediately comes up to yours.
You can taste yourself on him, the tanginess of your essence passing onto your tongue. As string of spit connects the two of you, as Maki pulls him away from you into her mouth.
You should be embarrassed as the heat that pulses through you at the sound of their lips smacking beside your ear.
Maki moans as she detaches from him.
"You taste so good." She turns your head for her turn to kiss you, her soft lips covering yours as she licks into your mouth. You can't stop the moan you breath into her mouth.
As Maki kisses you, you also can't stop the flow of memories that take over your mind, subconsciously mourning what you assumed was only friendship with the girl.
Maki interrupts your pondering as in a split second, as she slides out from under you, trading spots with Yuta, manhandling your limp body into a position that she wants.
His head is upside down as he smiles at you. "I told you we'd be the best of friends by the time this was over." A shiver races down you as the truth you tried to fool yourself out of thinking has finally laid itself bare between the three of you.
You can't do anything to stop Maki as she fully pulls your panties from your body.
Your half lidded eyes gaze up at her, as her mouth stretches into a grin above you.
"It's my turn now." She lowers herself into a position that perfectly mirrors Yuta's earlier one. "After all you both should be thanking me."
Her lips connect with your swollen cunt, and your back arches into the air.
a/n: my first long fic! and my first long smut piece ahhh! pls let me know if it's ass. this fic took me wayyy too long to write, so i hope yall enjoy!
-mdni. all characters aged up, dividers by @uzmacchiato, art by @/atktmtm on X.
