You’ve been stealing his hoodie for weeks—well…more like months.

It had started a few weeks into your relationship. His hoodies were and are warmer, softer, and a lot better than what you own (and that’s really just your excuse). And they fitted you a lot better, not oversized enough to engulf you—but not too tight either (the kind that doesn’t hug your body properly).

And Otoya is painfully aware that’s it’s been you who’s been stealing them; not like anyone else could.

He knows you love stealing his hoodies, and he loves it even more when he sees that little smile painted on your lips the second you slip on them on. The comfort evident on your face.

And that’s when Otoya started his side of mischief, slipping in notes on the pocket of his hoodies, and always watching (from the corner of his eyes) your reactions. Some notes were flirty, others outright disturbing and some that made you cover your mouth so you wouldn’t laugh too loudly,

You remember each and every note he slips in, keeping them hidden in a little box that you assumed he wasn’t aware of. Though he knows exactly where it is.

One time, he slipped in a flirty note: “This pocket isn’t the only thing that wants your hand in it”. And you initial thought it was sweet and wholesome, though it didn’t last when you saw his smirk and realised what he actually meant.

Another time he slipped on a note that—made your cheeks burn in embarrassment. His messy and rushed handwriting didn’t make it any better. “I was gonna spray this with cologne to be romantic, but I tripped and sneezed on it instead. Enjoy my DNA.” And that quite literally made you stop wearing his hoodies for a good two weeks.

Otoya’s been watching you all this time, never directly confronting you, but admiring you from the distance.

Although this time, he doesn’t miss the way your breath hitches, your fingers trembling the slightest as you read yet another note he had slipped in.

And then, he’s suddenly right behind you. Voice low, a warm breath brushing against your ear—making your cheeks flush a little more, a breath caught on your throat, allowing those stupid butterflies to roam freely on your stomach.

“So…which part made you blush? The part about kissing your neck, or the bit where I said I like you better in my clothes?”