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“Baby,” he coos, a low saccharine purr to your soft skin. “Baby,” he says, lips pressed against your pulse point, because Toji always starts with pet names when he wants to get his way. “It’ll be fun. Don’t knock it ’til you try it, yeah?”
And you feel your resolve start to crumble immediately, rocked by the shudder running down your spine, rough, calloused hands circling your waist, finding their way under your shirt. “How about it? You won’t even have to do a single thing. Leave it allll up to me.”
But the voice of doubt that you’ve learned not to listen to, it still persists, whispering in the back of your mind, even as Toji licks a path from under your jaw up to the shell of your ear, even as you are tilting your head to give him as much skin as he wants. He loves when you are pliant, you know he does, so you lean back against him more, when you tell him about your doubts.
Just like that, the hand that’s been creeping its way up to your breasts stops. The palm against your ribcage falls away, and he rests his forehead on your shoulder. A full pause, before he completely steps away. “Baby,” he says again, and just the tone in his voice, disbelieving and hurt, it sends you into a panic. “You don’t trust me?”
You turn around to face him, reaching up to cradle his face into your hands, telling him no, no, it’s not that at all — you do everything in your power to convince him that you trust him, that you love him — but the look in his eyes, avoiding your pleading gaze, never wavers. It breaks your heart. Crushes it to bits, when he asks, “Then why won’t you do this for me?”
You can’t find an answer to his question. He’s right, then, isn’t he? So, you find yourself nodding, as you stomp out the nagging doubts in your head, little fires you put out with the soles of your feet. You trust him. You don’t want him to get bored of you. You love him. But Toji is doubting it — it is plain on his face.
So, you have to prove it to him.
You hear your own voice, distant and small, telling him you’ll do it. Telling him, you’ll do anything, for him. Finally, he looks at you. The charming upward quirk of the corners of his mouth brings a soft, shy smile to yours. Teeth out, he smiles at you like a ravenous wolf. Finally, he touches you again, and immediately you are the scorched earth welcoming the rain. His hands moving from your shoulders to your face, he pulls you close, his rough kisses like a blessing from the gods. His breath is warm on your face, when he laughs, hands gripping you, never letting you go. “So, tomorrow night, then?”
Little fires, that you put out as you dance to his music. It is a choice, when you decide not to ask questions, not to wonder just how long he’s been wanting, planning this. It is a choice, when you nod into the kiss, all too enthusiastically, parting your lips in a soft moan to welcome his searching tongue.
—
Now, your mouth is being pried open by the fingers of a man whose cock hovers over your face, as Toji plows into you. You turn away, trying your best to bury your face into the plush pillow under your head, your free hand reaching to stroke his cock in an attempt to appease him. But he swats it away, now prodding at your lips with his tip. You hear familiar laughter, in all the chaos, and it is Toji, watching you struggle to keep a steady rhythm with your other hand as you once again turn away from the cock, only to be face to face with the one you’ve been stroking, leaking at the tip. Your eyes search his face, and all you find is amusement, a sadistic kind of glee, that you don’t quite know what to do with. “Open your mouth, baby,” Toji tells you, picking up his pace, and you cry out as the sounds of skin slapping on skin fills the hotel room, the other men circling you watching, stroking themselves. Laughing. “Be good,” you hear him say, while a hand grabs you by the face, taking the opportunity to shove a cock into your mouth while it hangs open in pleasure. “Be good,” Toji says, voice low, raspy. “Don’t disappoint us now.”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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cw: friends with benefits, cloth kink, handjob, teasing, sub!yuuta, everyone is 18+, overstimulation, begging, penetration denial, grinding, first kiss, gender neutral reader, reader has a vagina
Crossposted to ao3! A lovely commissioner asked for a continuation of the first sub!Yuuta x Reader scenario. Thank you so so much for supporting me.
If anyone wishes to have a custom x Reader commission, feel free to message me!
This is only the first part since tumblr's character limit likes to nerf my blabbing, but Click here for the full fic if you want to read more!
Enjoy :)
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Night after night, your feet always end up leading to his door. It’s become your own little ritual: waiting until everyone’s long turned in before you exit your room, quietly following an imaginary pattern through the floor tiles you’d draw in your head as your feet are led by something akin to a magnetic force, every movement now long memorized until you reach your destination. After that, every single time would be like clockwork, and his warm smile melts through the evening cold, uttering the same words as always: “You’re here.”
It never gets old.
You would think things would never be the same after the first time. Once the two of you had made that dent in your relationship, all the “what ifs” floating about felt harrowing: The two of you could never speak of it again and take it for what it was: an accident that got out of hand, and moved on as if nothing happened. You could’ve gone even further and established your relationship (had he asked to, you might just have gone along with this option, too), forever changing the dynamic between the two of you and your teammates and adding weight to the already heavy burden that comes with being a sorcerer.
In the end, one of those outcomes was partly true; You hadn’t really spoken about it or anything, but it was far from a gesture of denial. It all just had a way of falling into place between the two of you without all the fuss, and you couldn’t have been more grateful for the lack of drama.
Despite it all, intimacy wasn’t a nightly occurrence. The desire is there, obviously— but there would be times where it felt like you had built your own little world, legs tangled together as you talked and talked throughout the night until you both passed out in each other’s embrace. Other times, there just wouldn’t be the chance to do much thanks to the duties that awaited you the following day, and all you’d be left with was a lingering sadness as you traced your way back to bed, feeling the scent of his clothes on yours.
All in all, it was good… it would be perfect, even, if it weren’t for a couple of issues:
1) You haven’t gone all the way
2) You haven’t , for some reason, kissed.
And for someone who spewed all that big talk about how bad he wants it in the heat of the moment, both of these problems were Yuuta’s fault exclusively. It wasn’t a big deal at first— Yuuta had grown far more confident in the time you two grew close, but his shy nature was a tough one to beat. It is one of the many reasons you find him so adorable, and it makes pushing him around in bed all that more fun. But each time you find yourself being cut short from the cusp of your desires, you find your growing frustration harder and harder to swallow.
And now, in this very moment, standing by the doorframe he so casually rests a hand on, greeting you the same way he did the day before, the day before that, and all the other previous days, the metaphorical lid you’ve put on said frustrations is about to burst.
Normally you’d just let yourself in and respond “I’m here.” Today, you stand there, feet planted on the ground and look him straight in the eye, asking, “Why haven’t we kissed yet?”
Had you given Yuuta a mouthful of molten lava, his face might’ve been less red than it had turned just then. “Huh?”
“Why. Haven’t. We. Kissed yet?”
The hint of frustration in your tone makes him tense up further, and his shoulders shrug more and more by reflex with each pointed pause, as he tries to gauge how angry you are about the issue “Wow. Um.” He blinks, a shaky smile slowly growing across his crimson red features while he makes way for you to step in. “Can we talk about this inside?”
“You know,” You start, accepting his invite —but not without shouldering past him to prove a point—“There’s steps to this stuff but it feels like you’re sooo content with skipping all of them, and with me just touching your dick and getting you off, it’s almost like you’re not begging to go all the way every time, then shrinking back, then begging again without so much as a kiss to spare. So, what’s the deal? Are you just doing it to humor me?”
It takes a few seconds of buffering for him to take all the information you throw at him, but soon enough his brain catches up, and his mouth hangs open all but for a fraction of a second before he purses his lips in a tight line and sits on the edge of his bed, patting next to him to welcome you to do the same.
Skeptical as you are about his intentions, you can’t manage to say no to his pleading eyes and sit next to him with crossed arms, waiting for him to plea his case.
“It’s not that I don’t want to.” He finally answers, scratching the bridge of his nose with a finger. “Believe me, I want to do all that, but it’s not like I have the experience for it. I want to make you feel good, I just kind of don’t know where to start because I’ve never… kissed. Or done any of it before we started, really.”
Oh.
“So you’re saying we’ve been doing all that, but you’ve never…”
He nods, now bringing his hand to the back of his neck bashfully.
“Oh.”
Well, now you can’t help but feel bad for him.
The air following his confession is so thick it could be cut with a knife. The both of you avoid eye contact for what seems like ages- fidgeting with the wood frame of the bed, picking at a bit of dust stuck in the sheets, listening to the faint sound of a cricket somewhere outdoors. It feels nearly impossible to recover from such an awkward turn of events— despite that, Yuuta seems to surprise you, though, starting to lean close so he could meet eye to eye with you, speaking as if he were sharing a secret between the two of you. “Would you like to try?”
His earnest demeanor never fails to get to you. You suddenly feel a knot in your throat, a stirring in your chest you can’t seem to describe when the mere idea of taking Yuta Okkotsu’s first kiss begins to materialize in your head. You stare into his eyes, dark and earnest as always, but you can’t seem to find yourself capable of holding contact for too long. Instead you try to find anything else to divert your attention towards: the strand of hair that hangs slightly over his eyes, the bridge of his nose sloping down to his perfect cupid’s bow, his lips, barely parted as they wait for your answer.
God, will he ever stop being cute?
You shift in bed, bringing yourself to your knees in front of him. There was always something about having the upper edge when being able to tower over Yuuta when you normally wouldn’t be able to that gave you a rush— the look of surprise in his face whenever you catch him off guard was a treasure to behold, a thing so precious that you cannot resist to cradle in your hands, your palms curving along his cheeks ever so gently as you lift his face up, your mouths nearly inches away from each other. “I’ll teach you, Yuuta.”
The gasp Yuuta emits is barely audible, but you can tell he’s trying his very best to keep his cool. His fingers shake, lifting from the sheets to your sides, ghosting above them before holding on with as much care as you do him, and he gulps air before he nods expectantly.
Had it been this simple from the beginning, it might not have been this much fun. You take in his expression for a few seconds, your thumb rubbing over his lower lip in a single, slow swipe. You study it’s softness, the way it gives against your touch and how easily you can tuck that finger into it, pulling it down gently and watching the rest of Yuuta’s mouth open so obediently that you could devour him in kisses until your mouths give out. You want to kiss him, you want it so bad, and by the way he lets you handle him you can tell he’s wanted it too. It’s a relief for you, knowing your desire isn’t one-sided, and you’re just about to cave…
…until your thumbs dips into his mouth instead, pressing against his tongue. “Suck on this first.”
Where someone else might have protested and demanded their kiss already, Yuuta, ever so eager to please you, only averts his gaze downwards, closing his mouth around the digit and rolls his tongue around it, letting a long breath out his nose. The warm, wet feeling sends a lovely shiver down your spine as you echo his breath with a sigh, keeping his cheek cradled with your free hand as your finger pushes in, then out slowly. You marvel at the sight, but only briefly before you slide it back in with ease, shuffling above him to straddle his lap, making yourself comfortable on his legs. “Good. Just like that…show me how bad you want to kiss me. Can you do that for me?”
Yuuta obliges, opening his mouth to allow you to pull your thumb out, making room for your index and middle finger. He closes it again with a soft moan, leaning in to take their full length before pulling his head back, then forth once more as you can feel his tongue dart between them, coating them in his spit. He nearly leaves you speechless with his eager sucks, the smack of his lips ringing in your ears as he kisses and dribbles around the tips of your fingers nearly making your head spin with arousal. I want to kiss him, you think. And you do want to, you’d do anything to make your tongue take the place of your fingers right now and feel his lips against yours, your tongues pushing together, your arms wrapping around each other desperately as you finally get a taste of each other.
And yet, what’s a bit more waiting?
For Yuuta, probably torture. The realization nearly makes you giggle but you decide to hold back, opting to push him further. Your hips dip down, and you can feel him already hard against you, not to anyone’s surprise. By now you had both long accepted that Yuuta was pretty easy to rile up, and you had no complaints about it— if anything, you really got a kick out of driving him crazy, and tonight wasn’t going to be any different if you had a say in it. Pulling your fingers out, you ask him: “Hard already?”
“Sorry…”
“Wanna put it in?”
“W-whah—Huh!? Okay…”
“Nope~”
And there it is, that adorable little whine he makes when you dangle something in front of him and take it away. The urge to laugh nearly gets to you again but you stay strong, anchoring yourself with the feeling of his pants pressing against yours. You tell yourself the long game will be worth it once you see his eyes gloss over, threatening tears. He will be worth it. “Take it out, though, I have something fun in mind.”
--
Full fic here
cw: mutual pining, caught masturbating, handjob, teasing, sub!yuuta, everyone is 18+, overstimulation, begging, praise/humiliation kink, yuuta might be a stalker/closet pervert
Crossposted to ao3 ! my first x reader POV as requested by @bai-kage . Thanks again, Bai!
Part 1 , Part 2
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As you make your way in again, the first thing you do is avoid looking at the bed or The Pillow that laid pathetically back in its place, clearly fluffed and made to look like it wasn’t just at the receiving end of Yuuta’s excitement. You simply sit at his desk, hands neatly resting atop your lap while he plops down on the edge of his bed.
And then, silence.
Yuuta pulls all the stops to avoid eye contact with you. You could cut the tension with a knife the way he braces himself to talk every time, his lips hanging open for a fraction of a second before pursing shut, over and over. His blush is persistent, hands shaking lightly while gripping onto the edges of the mattress for dear life, and your patience runs lower and lower, until you feel the words tumble out of your mouth.
“Well?”
Jumping from his seat, he puts a hand over his chest as if to still his heartbeat. That alone is enough to send him into a frenzy, and he finally begins to speak, rushed and stuttered. “I’m sorry— I’m really sorry, it was already pretty late, you know? I didn’t think you’d come in by now and I was all by myself so I— I— well, you saw— and now that I think of it I should’ve locked the door, but you come visit every now and then and I got used to leaving it unlocked, so I did, and then I forgot… this is is such a mess, I’m sorry, I swear…”
…Cute.
You let him drone on, watching the shade of his cheeks turn redder and redder as he musters any he can, nearly a step away from getting on his knees and begging for forgiveness. Little did he know, though, that the more thought you put into it all, the less you felt that he should be trying to justify himself from his actions. You’re suddenly brought back to your semi-nightly meetings and the edge you always found yourself teetering over when you end up wondering what lies past the collar of his shirt, where his collarbone peeks out in the slightest.
“Next time if you want you can text me, or, not—well, I’m not saying I always need a warning, it’s always okay for you to come see me, y-you know that—b-but— I… ahhh… C-can you please say something? I feel like I’m just going on and on now.”
“Ah, yeah, sorry.” You reply, barely out of a daze of your own. As Yuuta sits there, nearly hunched over and wringing the hem of his shirt into a crumpled mess, you take in the sight before you, and you can’t help but think once again: Cute. Cute Cute Cute. Yuuta was undeniably adorable in the way he made himself so small after being humiliated like that. It made something begin to simmer at your core, something dark that wonders just how much further you could push him if you really tried. “You don’t have to apologize” You continue, your hands leaving your lap to make room for crossing your legs. “I saw the picture, though.”
“Oh.” Yuuta’s eyes widen as he becomes the very picture of a deer in headlights, the grip on his shirt loosening slightly, before tightening again with a pull as he fidgets with it further, shrugging his shoulders in shame. Nearly about to burst into tears again, he bites his lip to fight the sting in his eyes, gaze glued to the ground while he braces himself for the worst.
“Yuuta, look at me.” You beckon, not taking your eyes off him. Your tone is soft, yet confident. A rope of stability for him to grab onto in the midst of panic.
“I can’t.” He speaks under shuddered breaths, still fixated on his own feet to avoid your stare.
“Look at me.” You instruct again, leaning slightly closer. This time, he listens, his lips nearly quivering in fear of what you might have to finally say to in response to all this. “Do you want to do it?”
“Huh?” He asks, barely above a breath. “Do it?”
“Don’t play coy-“ You chuckle, leaning just a bit closer. “Do you want to fuck me or not?”
The way you say the word with no frills or hesitation stuns him for a moment, and he gulps down the knot in his throat, before croaking another “Oh…that…”
“With the way you were getting off on that pillow, I’m guessing you want to pretty bad.”
A few seconds pass with Yuuta trying to look at any other spot in the room that isn’t you, before giving in and looking into your eyes once more. He can’t bring himself to say it, not as explicitly as you can so easily do, at least. Instead, he speaks the language you two have been speaking for a while, now and begins by holding his stare for a few beats, before looking down slowly, to your lips, your neck, your chest…until he is so red he looks like he might nearly burst. You’re filled with mirth once again at his adorable attempt at an invite that you just want to prod further, putting a single finger to his thigh. “Does looking at me like turn you on?”
He nods, tensing up under your touch.
You use that single finger to try and pry his legs open, and to your surprise he is pliant, spreading them as far as you’ll push them. You stop once you can see the his crotch, delight spread across your features when you can clearly trace the shape of his hardened cock underneath the fabric. “Yuuta, is this your first time touching yourself to me?”
You can feel the restraint in his legs as he fights to keep them open, shaking his head. He mutters a small “No…” within a shuddered breath, letting go of himself to prop his palms by his sides, exposing himself to you to his best extent.
“Then,” you purr, drawing a circle around his thigh that makes his breath hitch in surprise. “Can you show me how you do it?”
“You already know how! P-probably!” He retorts, scandalized at your request. “You’re treating me like I’m some kind of pervert!”
“Aren’t you?”
“Huh!? T-that’s…”
“That’s…?”
The truth, that’s what it was.
Yuuta himself knew it was inevitable to hide his true intentions from you at this point, and yet god knows he’d give it one last miserable try, before looking back at you and reaching for the front of his pants, cupping his own hand over them, making you immediately tut. “Come on, be serious.” You groan, using your finger to poke at his thigh. “Pull it out.”
With hesitation, he does as he’s told and dips his fingers into the waistband of his pants, taking a grab of his erection and gingerly pulling it out of them, the head of his cock as pink as his cheeks, slick with precum from his previous interruption.
“Cute,” You finally say it out loud. As you watch his furiously flushed cheeks and make a line to his wet dick, clear beads dripping past his fingers, you lick your own lips, briefly wondering what he would taste like right now. Not yet, you think, wanting to see how long you could draw this little show out.
To your remark, Yuuta whines, his grip tightening while he begins to stroke himself in short, timid movements. Once his fist touches down the full length of his cock, he sighs, eyes fluttering half closed as he eyes you up and down, almost wondering if this is all just a dream. Another fantasy he’ll wake up from in a cold sweat, only to run into you in the morning and have to pretend he hadn’t just dreamt of being coerced into masturbating in front of you. The thought doesn’t seem to stop him, though. On the other hand, he looks up at you through half-lid eyes, giving you a once-over until he stops at eye-level, staring shamelessly towards your breasts as he strokes himself faster, feeling further worked up when he notices your nipples peeking through your shirt.
Nothing escapes your perception as you carefully inspect his every movement, and you just feel endeared at how simple he is, getting off whimpers and all just at the sight of your chest. Reaching over to his free hand, you grab it and lift it under your shirt to lead him past the lower curve of your breast, squeezing your fingers over his. You expect him to react in some way given the situation, but he far exceeds your expectation when he follows your lead and squeezes harder, rubbing a thumb at the head of his cock and gasping, hanging his head low while he gives in to the pleasure.
“Soft..” He whispers, twisting his hand gently as he feels the contour of your breasts, pinching and pulling at your nipple before gripping again, moaning once his fingers give into the softness of your skin. “Soft, soft, they’re so soft, Haah, feels so good…”
You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, your chest hollowing out slowly, then filling once more, rising and falling as he fondles you like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to do so. Watching him is fun, sure, but that feeling you can’t quite put your finger on stirs within you again, and you decide that it simply isn’t enough. “Yuuta.” You breath out, and he promptly ignores, far too gone in his sensations to acknowledge your call. “Yuuta.” You try again, but all you receive is his current mantra of “Soft”, and “So good”, over and over, until you decide nothing will get done unless you take it upon yourself to snap him out of it, pushing his hand off your chest. “Yuuta.”
“Huh? Wha…I’m sorry, did I do something wrong? Why’d you stop—”
“I’m kind of offended…” Dropping his hand to the side, you make a show out of your disappointment, sighing theatrically. “I don’t really think you want this.”
“I do!” He wails, letting go of himself to quickly grasp at your arms. “I want it, I want it so bad, I’ve been thinking about it for so long. I want you…”
“Do you?” You hold your feigned interest, checking your nails briefly before eyeing between his legs, then back to his face. “I don’t think you want it enough, you’re being so timid.”
“It’s how I usually do it…” Guilt washes over his face, loosening his grip on you slightly. “Is it not enough? What do you want me to do for you?”
“I have an idea,” Lips curling into a smirk, you reach down and take a hold of Yuta’s dick, slowly wrapping your fingers around them. “How about I show you?”
Yuuta immediately goes rigid to your touch, a small “iih!” escaping his lips in surprise. Before he can react any further, though, you begin to stroke him firmly, flicking your wrist ever so slightly while bringing your hand down his length every time. The mere thought of you touching him couldn’t compare to the real thing. He’s immediately intoxicated by you, his mouth hanging open with gasps and strained moans while mumbling a messy, garbled version of your name. “Ah— please, wait! w-wait… that’s too much—I feel it so much— please, slow down, I can’t—”
“Nope~” You coo, bringing your hand to the head of his cock and rubbing your closed fist around it, your fingers coated in precum. “You said you wanted me, didn’t you? Come on, I want to see that little perv who was fucking into his pillow thinking of me just earlier. Come on, say you want my cunt.”
“Aah! Haa… please… please… please give it to me!”
“Give what? Use your words, puppy.” Your hand stops, and you use your thumb to dig into the slit of his thumb, eliciting a cry from him.
“Nngah, please give me your cunt! I want it so bad, I wanna know how it feels inside, I want to cum inside it, I want to make you feel so good—ah— please— pleasepleasepleaseletmefuckyou—
“Good boy!”
“Ah!!”
“Ah.”
It happens quicker than you expect, but within two thrusts of Yuuta fucking into your hand he reaches his climax, spilling cum all over your palm with a cry, slowly unraveling into a fit of gasps and sobs and he slowly rides it out on your hold, hips shaking and bucking against your touch. “Haa…hic…God…I’m sorry, I…”
“You’re so eager to please, aren’t you? You came so fast…” Leaning in, you find yourself so endeared that you can’t help but lean in and begin to kiss the tears that roll down his cheek.
“That’s because you kept teasing me...”
“Is that a complaint? ‘Cause you looked like you were having the time of your life there.”
“No…” He says defeatedly, rubbing his cheek against yours.
“Well,” You nuzzle back, cradling his other cheek with your free hand. “I had fun. Maybe I should try and walk in on you more often. What do you say?”
“Ahah… How about you just stay over from time to time instead?”
“Fufu, sure. I’d like that.”
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cw: mutual pining, caught masturbating, handjob, teasing, sub!yuuta, everyone is 18+, overstimulation, begging, praise/humiliation kink, yuuta might be a stalker/closet pervert
Crossposted to ao3 ! my first x reader POV as requested by @bai-kage . Thanks again, Bai!
Part 1 , Part 2
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Yuuta, ever so dependable and eager to please, would always be there whenever you needed him. Regardless of it being training, studying, or simply sitting in each others company, it seemed like he if he would, he’d craft time out of nowhere if it meant he’d spend it with you. It was cute, really, the big eager smile he’d give you whenever you call his name, the way he’d immediately worry and scramble to help you up once he’d knock you to the ground after you explicitly told him for the hundredth time that you could take it, the way his tired eyes would light up in the slightest as they locked with you, once he’d come home from a particularly tiresome mission. It always made you wonder what prompted this special treatment towards you. It’s not like he wouldn’t be dedicated to his other teammates, but for some reason, where you are, Yuuta seems to always follow, and it fills your chest with a weird sense of pride.
Days and months go by, and you grow more and more comfortable with each other: he calls you by your first name, you by his, and you make a habit of simply walking into his dorm room from time to time, where he’d always welcome you to hang out with him way into the night. In those times, surrounded by the dim lights of the room, you begin to notice the distance closing between you each night, dancing around a line that’s been drawn between the two of you. His gaze searches yours, and for a shy person he surprisingly holds eye contact well— but in some rare instances it develops into something more, looking down and past your eyes, tracing imaginary lines across your lips, chin, chest… and you allow yourself to do the same, until the urge to break the tension and call him out wins over, if only to see his blood rise to his face along with the stuttering, blubbering mess he’d promptly become.
Cute.
Tonight was another one of those nights. After tossing and turning for what seemed like forever, you finally rise from your bed and make your way out of your room and towards that familiar walk towards Yuta’s room. As you walk down the dark halls barely lit by the moonlight seeping through the open garden, the chill of the night brings goosebumps up your arm, and you find yourself hoping that he’ll be awake, so you can refuge in the warmth of his room.
Something feels different this time, though, once you’re in front of his door. It’s usually quiet on the other side of the door, and once you’re in, Yuuta will be looking up from a book or whatever he’s engrossed on at the moment to greet you. This time, however, there’s a creak, something struggling under pressure, followed by the voice you had been looking forward to hear all along calling out your name with strain.
Alarms ring in your head, and you immediately brace yourself for the worst. He sounds like he is in trouble, under attack, even, as the creaking and struggling continues. Could he have called for you knowing you were there so you would assist him? Something unpleasant pools at the pit of your stomach at the idea of him in any real danger, and before your mind can formulate a more logical scenario, your body moves, pushing the door open with haste.
“Yuuta!”
“Aah—W-Wait! No! Get out!”
Whatever you were expecting would have never compared to what awaited inside Yuuta’s room. You blink a couple of times, letting your eyes adjust to the lack of light in his room, and contrary to his desires you seem to be stuck there, trying to make sense of what’s happening in front of your eyes. The very first thing you notice calling to your attention is the light of Yuuta’s phone resting on his bed. It’s not entirely clear given the distance, but you can somewhat make out that it’s a picture of yourself you’ve never seen before in your life. Once your eyes manage to move from that, you look downward, to a pillow tightly gripped by Yuuta’s hands against his crotch, and finally upwards, to a teary eyed, flushed, and utterly distraught Yuuta.
“Were you—“
“Please,” He interrupts, his voice a few pitches louder than you’re used to. “Please, get out. I-I can explain. Just—“
“Oh— Um— Yeah. Sure.”
And so, you leave as asked, closing the door behind you.
Should you stay? Run back to your room? A million options of what to do in a situation like this run through your head, glueing your feet in place instead of allowing you to take action. As you’re frozen there, the reality of having run into Yuuta in a Predicament begins to etch into your brain and you suddenly begin to feel your pulse throb all the way up your neck. It would have been one thing to run into him simply masturbating— it was your fault for not knocking, after all. But running into him fucking a pillow while staring at a picture of you is a whole other issue.
Just how in the world could you ever confront him about it?
Just as you come to the conclusion to bury it all deep in the back of your mind and turn on your heels to leave, the door opens once more, a now fully clothed Yuuta peeking out of it meekly.
“Can you come in?”
“No” is what you would’ve liked to say. “Hell no,” even. Not out any particular displeasure for what had just transpired between the two of you, surprisingly. But you almost feel sorry for him trying to welcome you in despite it all, probably to deliver some long winded excuse or apology that would add weight to the whole thing. You didn’t need to hear any of it, really. He’s just doing what anyone could do in the privacy of their own room, right?
“Okay.” Is what you say instead. It’s just too hard to resist those eyes nearly begging you not to make things awkward.
Continue to Part 2 !
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