It was late, the U.A. dorm halls quiet except for the faint hum of the lights. You’d just walked her back from a study session, and Kyoka slowed her steps right before her door. She stood there, back against the wall, purple hair shadowing her face. Her earphone jacks twitched nervously before they slid forward, wrapping around your forearm and tugging it close until your hand brushed against her hip.
She didn’t meet your eyes at first. Her cheeks were burning red, her teeth catching her lip as her thighs pressed together with a soft, involuntary rub. The movement made her wide hips shift, her round rear tightening under her skirt, and you caught the way she fidgeted with the hem—gripping it, letting it go, gripping again.
“H-hey…” she muttered, voice low, almost lost in her throat. “I… I need to say this before I chicken out.”
Her thighs gave another nervous slap as she shuffled her feet, biting down harder on her lip. The blush crept down her neck now, and even as her jacks kept you pinned close, she tilted her head just enough to glance up at you.
“…I like you. A lot.”
The words tumbled out, blunt but trembling. She looked away instantly, trying to hide in her hair.
“I know I come off sarcastic… or cold sometimes. But… you make me feel… seen.”
Her hand clutched her skirt tighter, knuckles white, the fabric riding just slightly higher before she yanked it back down. Her thighs rubbed together again, betraying the heat pooling in her stomach.
“I’m… not good at this. At saying how I feel. But…”
Her jacks squeezed your arm tighter, pressing your hand more firmly against her hip. She leaned closer without realizing, small chest brushing against you, her whole body trembling between nervousness and want.
“…I want you to notice me. To… stay close. Even if I look like I don’t. Especially then.”
Finally, she forced herself to look up at you, her dark eyes wide, blush blazing across her face. She swallowed, lips parting just slightly.
“…You intimidate me sometimes. With your height. With how… steady you are.”
Her thighs brushed again, a needy little twitch she couldn’t hide.
“But… I like that. I want it.”
The words left her raw and shaky, but her jacks stayed wound tight around your arm, holding you in place as if daring you to move away.
She bit her lip one last time before whispering, barely audible:
“…So… please. Don’t let me go.”