closet perv isagi closet perv isagi closet perv isagi-
What is happening right now.
Isagi feels the heat creep up the sides of his neck all the way to his forehead. Heβs sure heβs beet red as he stares at you, emerging from his shower, in his house, in his clothes.
And- holy shit. His t-shirt billows near your belly button, riding out the stretch from where the shirt swells around your chest. When you turn around, he can see the swell of your ass stretching his sweatpants in places they usually donβt stretch.
βYoichi, thank you for letting me borrow these,β he hears something that sounds like your voice. βIt started pouring out of nowhere, huh?
He forces his eyes up to your face and regrets it immediately. Your eyebrows are pinched together in worry, lips pursed, and eyes downturned, like youβre so woefully embarrassed. He subconsciously shifts, hunching over a bit to accommodate the sudden tightness of his pants. You're a creature of innocence. One that heβd love to-
When he says nothing, you continue. βI tossed my clothes in the dryer,β you say. βIt should be done in a couple of minutes.β
He nods dumbly. He leads you to the kitchen and gets you a cup of warm tea, looking anywhere but you as you settle into one of the chairs and swing your sweatpant-clad legs.
He only breathes the biggest sigh of relief when you hear the dryer go off and disappear back into the bathroom. When the door opens, you appear back in your school uniform, prim and proper, and Isagi feels his heartbeat begin to return to normal. He thinks heβs in the clear until you open your mouth.
βUm,β you start awkwardly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. βCan I take your clothes home to wash before returning them?β
βOh, uh, thatβs okay. You only wore them for a couple of minutes.β
βYou really donβt-β
βI wore these clothes.β
βNoβ¦ I mean, all of my clothes were soaked. Like all.β
Your eyes are glued on the floor. βLike I was totally β¦ you knowβ¦ under your clothes.β
His eyes widen. Images of your chest and your ass squeezed into this clothes, your bare crotch pressing into his pants when you were sitting in the kitchen.
Catching his realization, you toss a mortified apology behind you before running out the door.
Itβs shameful the way Isagi belatedly wishes he had insisted on washing them himself. Not to not inconvenience you, but so he could just touch, see, smell his clothes that had touched your bare tits and pussy.
The thought leaves Isagi there, popping the most mortifying but absolute hardest boner of his teenage years.
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