ـــــــﮩ٨ـ yuuta okkotsu + gn! reader
⚠︎ warnings/notes: mdni!!!, dark content: stalking, male mastrubation, he yorking it on the phone with reader but they don't know, this is my favorite flavor of this man ok, not edited not revised not anything lmfao
The blue light of his phone shines on him within the darkness of his bedroom, hidden under his covers, grinning to himself. Yuuta has been working with you since last week (the job you've had for 3 months and 15 days, the job that you work Monday through Friday from 9 to 4, the job that's so close to your apartment that you walk home.) He got off 4 hours ago, offered to walk you home instead of matching your steps 10 paces behind in the shadows, and you agreed.
Now he sits in bed smiling like a mad man at his phone, humming to himself as he stares at the new contact and scrolling through sparse texts. He got your number, you gave it willingly. A pretty smile, kind eyes, and a wet personality was all it took.
The few messages within the thread were simple ones: a means to get the number from the other, a small exchange about work, and a goodnight with a smiley face. He scrolls through them over and over again, rereading every word like a religion. But his phone vibrates and he chokes when a new message comes in from you.
"You still awake? I can't sleep for shit"
He knows you often take melatonin to go to sleep every night, but you toss and turn regardless. Some rare nights, when you're exhausted from work or the fatigue finally hits you, you sleep soundly. Those are the nights he loves. The nights where he can creak open your door instead of watching through a window, and smile as he watches you sleep and tucks you in.
He immediatly gets a call. The caller ID staring back at him as he jolts up in bed. It's your name with a heart (he added it as soon as his door closed to his apartment), and he feels his heart squeeze as he starts to panic. It's a giddy, overwhelming panic, staring at his phone in shock awe before finally answering on the last ring.
"Yuuta?" Your voice rings through the phone and he chokes on his spit, coughing before humming to let you know he's there. "You ok?" Sweet and saccharine like honey but muddled with sleep to make it syrupy.
"Ha- yeah, I'm ok!" His voice cracks slightly, and he sheepishly smiles like he thinks you can see it. You chuckle and he lets out a sigh laced in adoration. "Why can't you sleep?" He bit his tongue to cage the pet name he had given to you in his dreams, his daydreams, every waking hour of the day he thinks of you. There's not a single second of his day that he doesn't think about you; the way your hips sway when you walk, how you're stunning in any article of clothing you wear, how good those clothes would look like on his floor. . .
You groan and he can hear that you flop back against your bed. He knows your bed is right across the window, pushed against the wall. He knows it's a full and you never make it; plushies, pillows, and blankets are always strewn about. You believe that all of it will relax you to go to sleep, but he believes all you'll ever need is him to fix your every need. "I dunno," you sigh, "I keep tossing and turning tonight." But he knows you do every night. "Bad day at work, I guess?"
"Aw, what happened to make it so bad?" He would fix it if you asked him, he would do it anyway - because it's you. It's always been you. You've been front and center in his mind for almost a year now, and the obsession has been gnawing at his skull every day he gets to see you at work. You scrunch your nose when you disagree, you roll your eyes at petty customers, you glance at him every now and then and it makes his mind go numb, and you bite your lip when you're focused. He thinks about your lips far too often than he should. You're lips would look so precious around his-
He shakes his head again.
"People are just so fucking stupid," you laugh, he joins you. "I can only handle so much stupid in one day, and I feel maxxed out." He hears you shift in bed, most likely to put your blankets on top of you, and he sighs again. You keep your apartment cold and you wear next to nothing to sleep, but you toss and turn so much the blankets come off of you in your dreams. Sometimes he watches you sleep, admiring your body how it's sprawled out in bed: hair messy, tank top hiked up, and your nipples peaking through your shirt from your cold room.
He adjusts himself, his pajama pants getting tighter at the thought of your sleeping form, and clears his throat. "Is there any way I can help you sleep?" His voice is sweet like candy but turns sour once his hand is on his cock again. He can think of all sorts of ways to get you to sleep, all the positions to put you in until you're fucked out and cuddle up next to him. He hums over the phone.
He shakes his head again and closes his eyes, "I shouldn't do this," but his hand never leaves his clothed cock regardless.
You sigh, "do you mind staying up a little longer talking to me?"
"No not at all!" Spoken abrubtly, as he didn't hear the breath you took before wanting to speak again. You only chuckle at his eagerness; meanwhile he palms his cock against his better judgement.
"Maybe I'll eventually talk myself out and go to sleep, who knows?" "Or maybe you can lose your voice from my cock down your throat."
"I don't mind," he swallows thick as his fingers dive underneath his waistband. "What did you want to talk about?" He pulls the phone away from his ear when his cold fingers touch the head of his cock, sucking in a breath before putting the phone back.
"Well- I got some new furniture?" You let out a breathy laugh, the same moment he wraps his hand around his cock. He listens intently, hanging on to every mundane word about shelves and boxes while he strokes himself with fervor. He feels a sense of shame wash over him, pleasuring himself silently while you're on the other side completely unaware.
It only makes him so faster and buck his hips upward.
"You alright over there?" Your voice is airy, with sleep starting to mingle in your tone. He knows you can hear his breathing getting heavier, and the small groans behind gritted teeth.
"Yeah, just a little tired." His voice cracks but he chuckles after trying to hide it, he feels a pit in his gut and he has to all but cover his mouth. Pre cum is dripping down his hand and he's making a mess of himself, but he just can't stop thinking about how good you would look sprawled out on his bed. He wished for the day that you would be doing this to him, making him shudder and moan from your touch alone; begging and pleading for you to let him cum.
You keep talking about routine things: hobbies he already knew about, places he already knew you like to frequent, and books he knew you loved. He has to put the phone on speaker just so he can cover his mouth with his hand; part of him loves that you could be able to catch him so he refuses to mute himself.
His hand is slick and he can feel himself getting close, he's torturing himself by going slower but it doesn't matter as the sound of your voice is enough to take him over the edge. His vision goes white and he bites his hand until he breaks the skin as not to moan into the phone. Ropes of white, sticky cum are now in his lap, and he strokes himself until every last drop is out.
He's out of breath, sweaty, and now covered in his own pleasure. But he flops back down in his bed and grabs his phone again with the biggest smile. There's a silence over the line, he chuckles. "You tired?"
You yawn, "yeah. Thanks for listening to me." You're smiling, he can hear it over the phone. Your voice always turns up when you're happy, and his heart squeezes knowing that he was able to do that for you.
"Of course I would listen." He would listen to every thing you say, he has since he saw you at the train station all those months ago. He would always be there, would always protect you, would always listen, always care, always be anything you want him to he. "Call me whenever you need."
You hum, "goodnight, Yuuta. I'll see you tomorrow."
He says a simple goodnight back and the line goes down. His cheeky smile turns to a grin as he stares down at his phone, an emotion swirling in his eyes that could only be pinned as obsession. "Goodnight, my love, I hope we can do this again sometime. I came so hard just for you, because I love you that much."
