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hxltic · 1 year

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I’M SORRY. MASTUKAWA ISSEI

• 200 FOLLOWERS!! 😻😻😻

• Genre: smut

• Warnings: female reader, college, slight angst at first, overstimulation, rough counter sex, choking, hair pulling, degradation, daddy kink, cunnilingus, pretty long but please don’t let it scare you off lol

-I just love comfort roommate Mattsun

You slept horribly. You thank the universe your classes had mercy. Though you still called into work, unfortunately, and even more to your demise— there was a huge sale that made folding restock clothes a pain.

Slumping through the door, getting your shower in, and throwing on the first shirt you found from the laundry room was very efficient until you got into bed.

You lay there.

Comfortably uncomfortable.

You were hot, but taking the covers off wasn’t an option. You felt every fiber or hair against your body. Your feet were cold. A growling noise erupted from your stomach.

Angrily, the covers are thrown off, where you stomp your way to the kitchen while dismissing the new breeze of air brushing your skin. No jacket, in shorts, waltzing around the apartment scavenging for food. You wish the feeling of the air conditioning didn’t bother you as much as the sound did, because it printed an obvious sign of irritation on your face.

Then the fire alarm beeped.

Taking a deep breath, you begrudgingly conclude yourself unsuccessful in finding something to nibble on. When you turn around, the corner of the kitchen table seemed to stick out more than usual.

Lo and behold it hit the corner of your already cold foot. You drop to your elbows on the counter in annoyance where hold your head, tugging probably unhealthily at your eyes from stress, trying your best not to fall to the ground and cry.

You immediately removed even the thought of tears when the door sounded.

“Honey I’m home.” Mattsun closes the door behind him.

He just got back from afternoon classes with only a handful of groceries. Your roommate started the “I’m home” thing as a joke, yet it carried farther than that as time went on. You correct yourself and try to help with the groceries at least a little bit, picking up what you could find in the bags and placing them in their correct spot.

Mattsun could obviously tell something was off the second he walked in. He watched you stutter and quickly regather yourself even though it looked as if you were on the verge of tears. He would’ve asked why by now, if he didn’t know that you probably didn’t know yourself. He was right. You didn’t.

Hard days never got to you, but as the homework piled up with your micromanaging boss, it went straight to the mini notepad in your brain listing all you had to do. It was fine until you had to flip to the next page, then the ink started getting all runny. You aren’t sure what caused it; but it happened. You held the milk mindlessly in your hand.

Mattsun scooted behind you towards the refrigerator. You were in the area between the island and the main counter, causing his front to press up against you innocently, an angered grunt dropping from your lips.

“Could you not go around?” You turn to him swiftly, your palm facing upwards to emphasize your feelings.

“Didn’t really think it mattered. You calling me fat?” He opened the refrigerator door. Usually you’d laugh, but it only turned your brows farther inwards.

“Yeah, it does. Go the other fucking way.” You spat. With the roll of your eyes, you slid the milk into the already opened fridge. You stepped back so that Matsukawa could close it, hand already on the handle—but when nothing happened, you turned around to see the tall male staring at you in disbelief. He literally just got home.

“…What?”

“The hell is up with you?” He asks regularly.

“Nothing,” you shrug and brush it off, “it was just unnecessary.”

“Well it’s clearly something,” he retaliates, “I’ve been practically crucified the ten seconds I’ve been here.” He closes the door and laughs humorlessly to himself.

“Whatever. It’s nothing.”

He starts, “Really? The-“

“God-it’s nothing! It’s nothing.”

The aggressive hand motions come back, then you finally take about four different things from the second-to-last bag and put them up hastily, even in your tired state.

He observes you from the counter with every step you take and every heavy breath you let in. Like you’re fighting an entire war with yourself.

It finally clicked in his mind: he said the wrong things in the wrong moment, and it wasn’t what you needed right now. He just wished he would’ve noticed sooner.

“Hey, my bad—I’m sorry. Should’ve went around.”

His voice wasn’t careless now, but soft. You heard him but just moved on to the last bag. Before you can pull something out, he takes it and tells you that you can go lay down. Better yet, that he’d handle everything else.

“It’s fine, I can do it.” You reach again and he pulls it away. “Give it.” The quicker you are, quicker he is.

You sigh and pull back. You wanted to slap the shit out of him but he wouldn’t budge.

“Do you always have to be like this?”

He cocks his head to the side. He was curious. It could tell how you actually feel about him, the kind of things you don’t tell people to their face.

“Like what?”

“Aggravatingly annoying,” you blatantly answered.

His expression changed for a second. He refuses to get louder, only talking in a low volume, casual tone.

“That I am.”

“Why can’t you just come in and go to your room to study or something?”

“I will next time.”

“Why do you always have to be by me?”

Hm…

Accepting it and having it your way he felt was the best thing to do. He’s been called annoying before, even irritating due to his constant teasing. But hearing it from you—really the main one he talks to that isn’t Makki— hurt a bit. You saw his eyes widen for a slight half a second more before reverting to his usual apathetic face.

He knew you didn’t mean it. He knew you were overstimulated. Giving in to you and whatever you said was what you needed, not someone to fight you on things. Yeah it fucking hurt; however, you were speaking out of temporary emotion rather than logic or feelings, so if not stressing you out in this way was what he’d have to do, he’d do it.

The truth was: you really couldn’t stand being by him. Hearing him walk in while you read in your bed, then casually throw his things to the wall and flop down at your feet. Or when you would come in later and he’d be sat criss cross on the couch, a spot waiting for you right next to him. You couldn’t decipher if these were regular friendly activities or not and it swam through your mind all throughout the day.

Was it just his personality? Did it mean anything to him? Were you being dramatic? All the hugs, the studying, the dinner nights. Were those dates? Did they have the same effect on him that they had on you? Were they even on purpose?

The silence was deafening and palpable, the gaze he held intimidatingly normal. Didn’t you just yell at him? How is he so calm? You had come back to your senses, staring up at his non-changing face, ready to say something.

“I-“

“Do I need any reason more than I want to be?” He utters first delicately.

There wasn’t a hint of negative energy. It made you sad, just how much he’d do for you. You actually almost wish he would’ve gotten mad.

He’s never once yelled at you, called you out for dumb things like breaking a glass bowl, or not being taught some things around the house. You just let out an entire day’s worth of anger onto him and said something that was nowhere close to what you feel. You even used him as a placeholder for what you wish you could say to your boss. He is always so, so good to you.

He watches as your eyes suddenly get tighter and your eyebrows inch upwards. You’ve done nothing but look at him, yet the mere thought of what you said and what he’s actually done forces you to drop your head slowly and take a few steps forward into his chest. Droplets fall silently to the tiled floor.

His arms softly found their way around you.

“I’m sorry.” You mumble.

“You’re okay.”

He hugs you back, progressively getting softer with every passing minute. Not “It’s okay,” “You’re okay.” Sometime later, you pull back with a deep breath, and you send a tight lip smile to him. Then while he puts away the discarded item (that was previously fought over), you hop up on the island counter.

“Okay. I’m better now.”

“Good.” He closes the fridge. Your legs sway back and forth. You’ll try to explain what happened, even if you know it won’t justify the outbursts directed at him.

“Hey I didn’t mean it.”

“I kno-“

“No, no, wait.” You interrupt.

Dark eyebrows raise and his arms cross as he leans back against the counter in front of you to listen. He nods, telling you to go on.

“I’m so stressed. I just had a really, really bad day and put you at the end of it. I do really enjoy your company—I promise—It’s just…it’s just I don’t really-”

You think for a moment and sigh before your head drops into your palms again. It was because your mind was racing to find the words. Do you tell him? Would it count as a confession?

“I don’t even know anymore. Do you ever…um…”

“Take your time.” He sits patiently.

Damn, did you have to trip over your own words now?

“…What do the dates that you plan usually look like?”

He seemed lost in thought for a second, prior to returning towards the sight of you nervously twiddling your fingers. He noticed the emphasis on the word ‘plan,’ as if you were trying to differentiate between real dates from him and whatever the hangouts you two had were. Saving you the trouble, he’d just tell you.

“I like you.”

…huh?

The sudden confession makes your eyes almost pop out of your head. That was not the answer you were expecting, but not the answer you didn’t want.

“What?” You whisper. You did hear that correctly, right?

He goes on to elaborate with a sigh and a shrug.

“Listen, I’ve been through a million different of these confessions and I don’t want that delay with you. I like you a lot, period.”

It was a while back ago when Mattsun decided he’d focus on you alone. He cleared his phone, and (which you noticed) somewhat cleared his defiled reputation of past debauchery. Many older women have came up to him asking if he actually would pursue during his libertine phase, to which he’d respond no, so he has experienced almost every subtle confession ever made. It was like déja vu.

Wide-eyed you sit. That was a lot easier than you expected; you were worrying all for nothing. The bearing weight that had you in a hold was finally lifted.

“So all of those were-“

“Yes. I haven’t done that with anyone else and I prefer to keep it that way.”

Your heart probably jumps in your chest and your eyes light up. A wide smile inches its way onto your face, and it almost dies down when you remember what you did, but he brings it back with a light, mature smile of his own. After all this time he actually was crushing on you like you were him. You never, ever could deny the way you were eager to see him once he would return from his classes and crash the night with you.

Speaking of crash, a sudden returning wave of exhaustion brushes your body. You ignore it though. There are better things.

“Well, that’s somehow where I was going; I like you a lot too. But if I actually asked you would you say yes? I know how-”

“That depends. Does it come with a ring?”

You stop and your dimples start to show as a smile crawls onto your face, again, “Um…no?“

“Then I object.”

He uncrosses his arms and walks unhurriedly between your legs. He was so content, large hands brushing up your thigh from the knee.

“Yes, I would,” he admits delightedly whilst gingerly coming closer in the face, “the ring comes later though.” He’d whisper a breath away from your lips. You’d wondered how you could be so lucky, the confession not even falling from your sheepish mouth, and still end up with the same outcome. When his eyes go from yours to the plump of your mouth; So, so ready to feel him on you, your eyes close and anticipate him.

Nothing happens. Once your eyes open and he stands there mockingly with the trademark grin (still only hovering an inch away from your nose), if you didn’t know any better you would’ve shoved him away and hopped off the counter to your room for playing with your feelings. But Mattsun was just being Mattsun. First he laughs genuinely at how gullible you are. Then, his trail of sight goes back to your lips unashamedly once more with a dimple-showcasing smirk. He slowly pushes a falling strand of hair away, and slightly turns his head to melt into you with a hand on your cheek sweetly.

You could feel the free smile that was on his lips as he kissed you. It was cute. The kind of things you see in movies at little coffee shops riding along the street. It was unlike him, an unfamiliar feeling this was—like sunlight rather than a rainy or cloudy day. It sounds stupid, but Matsukawa is always slow moving and effective. Watching tv with your legs kicked up or tucked in a blanket as the pitter-patter of the rain decided the kismet of your day. The lambent lighting of the morning making it significantly darker than it usually is with the blinds open.

He caught you before you were too far gone by groaning happily. Throughout it, the entirety of your mind was buzzed by the way your lips gracefully slow danced against his on the counter of your shared apartment. It felt so good seeing him just utterly happy, especially with you. Warm and steady like molasses in January. His fingers eventually connected in the small of your back. You were still tired so his energy was just as lazy as your own; like when your hands floated around his neck and feathered through his hair.

He did it as if it had been years since he was kissed. Yearning for absolutely any ounce of touch from someone. He was accidentally pushing into you, needing to be closer, your arch slowly getting deeper.

The second he pulled away for necessary air, he caught the crevices of your thighs and pulled you with him. Now that the hard part was done he’d give you the full experience.

“What are you doing?”

“Relieving stress.”

He pushes a leg up and over his own shoulder. His hands are placed directly atop your abdomen to apply light pressure as he kisses away the nerves from the main fat of your body gently. Remember all that cute stuff? Yeah, it just diminished the second he decided to eat you out on the marble counter.

You’re not very sure how it led to something like this, something like him pulling your shorts and panties off together. Once there, his mouth felt great against your clit, mainly when he’d stop and suck right between. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t dreamt of this from someone before because the form of the pink muscle inside you is unmistakable. So unmistakable even, that the feeling of the slurp that makes you squirm seemingly flows through your veins to your head like blood.

When Mattsun eats you out, he does it with precision. He knows where he wants to go and how he’ll get there. Compared to others he wasn’t as messy, but maybe that comes from the fact he’d prefer his fingers working inside of you. He’d love to watch your face contort on nothing but his hand because he knows it’s a favorited body part of his. He knows you’d love it. But, he will cup his mouth over you and give the same effect nonetheless.

And you loved that about him. He was careless, not nonchalant.

He was clingy, but independent.

He had morals, just not enough to get boring like when he jumped in the ball case in the store.

He was extremely opinionated, (especially when you asked him small questions like if he liked a shirt) but he also doesn’t care enough to convince you out of something you liked.

He’s hot, but also couldn’t care less about his appearance at times.

He was a walking juxtaposition.

And usually, when you’re alone, the relaxation of your mind helps you get off faster. This was the case, and going over his traits and features was clearly working well because now only your upper back was on the counter and anything below that point was lifted with his large hands. Both legs were in his possession. Your breaths were heavy and when your waist moves on him, his shoulders follow his head. Your own head moves to each side, but he doesn’t seem to care, this was incidental when he was holding your hips close to him so your wetness spread right under his nose. He was feeding off you since there was nowhere to run.

He’d tell you to sit still a bit but he likes the challenge. He likes watching your waist go back and forth as your pussy basically cries his name, and he would print his initials in hickeys on you if that’s what it called for. Others call it sadistic, he calls it motivation.

He could literally take both hands off of you and still be upright—the only reason he didn’t was because you’d probably make yourself fall. Though he did get close, a hand coming right up through your shirt to massage your breast. You unconsciously crossed your legs behind his neck in reaction. Damn, he was good.

He groans through you, and you wish you could watch but holding yourself together was a ground-breaking job. He hit each spot perfectly with complete control of his tongue and your shoulders were starting to hurt from bearing your own body weight.

His height made this fairly difficult but nothing he couldn’t handle—having to crouch in front of a pretty girl was the last of his worries. With your thighs covering his ears and temple, he sucked away. He was honestly glad he did this now rather than later, knowing you, you probably would’ve refused clamping on his head so you wouldn’t crush him or something like that. Mattsun believed his breath regulation was pretty okay considering he almost even got into swimming, but if by slim chance he did die he believed suffocating like this was preferred.

His tongue was literally inside of you. The only thing preventing your brain from fuzzing and your head from throwing back was there would be nothing left on the counter to hold your weight.

Once your heavy breathing developed to jagged and your heavyset eyes started to close, he set you back down gracefully. He heard your pleas but held out for as long as he could. Many “Mattsun please’s“ and “Mattsun I’s” later, he would finally relieve you; He knew his girl could do it.

He spent the last portion of your orgasm fulfilling his own desires and working you from the inside. He moved positions to rest on his left elbow and lean over your face, staring into your eyes, brows upturned and a smile showing. Was it a pity smile? Maybe, but it was for sure the face of amusement as you break down beneath him.

“H-holy shit…‘Sei- s’right there,” you declared.

“Huh? What is?”

A very implying whine followed. Matsukawa scooped his arm under your head like a pillow, his left hand turning your chin to face him. He loved that face. That pretty face only dusted with fatigue and sadness but smothered in want. That same face he’ll get to see whenever he looks down. Huh. Maybe he was a little sadistic.

Your body scrunched and your knees came up in ecstasy.

“Talk to me,” he says, but you barely could keep your eyes open the way he was avoiding the spot on purpose. You wondered how he did it, already having learned your body and how you reacted so well in such a short time. You were so close already and he was gonna ruin it, even though you’d probably still find a way to cum anyway.

You tried your best to muster up something and prayed he’d take it.

“Faster,” you ordered. No response. Actually instead of doing what you said, he pulled them out, assumingely because of the sudden attitude. You immediately went to apologize. He was actively in charge of your body, after all.

You verbally groan in annoyance, to where you hear a responding muffled giggle, so you open your eyes to see what happened.

You meet a view of his smiling jawline, looking down past the counter. His hand was still beneath your chin, almost as if he was protecting you from being uncomfortable, but his teeth held his shirt up as he used whatever was left on his fingers to jerk himself off. This was the disruption in question.

He didn’t mean to basically abandon you, but undoing the jawstring and letting himself free seemed like it would benefit everyone. And he was big. You’d seen big, but he was big all the way around.

You watched in awe as his fingers left a shine of gloss behind when they reached the reddening tip from the bottom.

He threw his head back and groaned in relief, finally being reminded what it felt like to be touched with someone else’s presence.

“Sorry, couldn’t resist.”

With a look to your impatient, shocked eyes, he knew you wanted it. Needed it almost.

He pressed off the counter with his elbow but left his hand under your head. Such a gentleman. Lifting both legs up, with a hand stretched under your knees like a baby, he spoke to you.

“You want it?” He’d ask. You’d nod aggressively, to where he’d ask again. “You gotta tell me.”

“Yes, I do.” You pleaded. Of course your head rolled slightly on his hand to see his face around your legs.

“Alright. Tell me when you wanna stop. Safeword is green.”

You’d never once said a safeword during sex and you doubt you’d use it now. Plus, Issei wouldn’t hurt you.

Intentionally.

You felt him pull your legs apart and hold them where they were previously scrunched up at your breasts. Finally, he rubbed you one last time, before the tip slowly started to diminish inside of you.

It’s amazing how the body makes fluid for moments like these. It’s also amazing how wet Mattsun got you so it’d hurt ten times less.

When he stopped moving about halfway there, he hung over your body almost menacingly; his silhouette breathing deeply and whatever necklace he had on from the day dangling. Your face contorted at the intrusion and your eyes unexpectedly swelled, making you lachrymose. It definitely could’ve been worse, but fuck he was big.

The ravenette slipped his shirt off and your head slid off his hand painlessly, the overwhelming heat from everywhere flowing to his brain. He almost couldn’t take it. You were so wet but so fucking tight at the same time, he couldn’t even bring himself to keep going. He bent over to meet you with a kiss on the jaw and his hand found your own so you could squeeze it as he went on. He buried his face in your neck.

“O-okay, you can move now,” you managed.

No response.

“Issei?” You pushed his hair aside with the hand that wasn’t in his so you could see him. His eyes were closed and his breathing was seeking stabilization through his mouth.

“Fucking just- gimme a second. Please.”

You knew it was pure desire and he was trying his best not to hurt you. He would promise ‘til death that he tried to stop, to take it slow, but it was irresistible the second you giggled at his current state (that you caused) and your stomach contracted with him inside. He immediately pushed forward so that he was balls deep into the fluttering feeling.

“Matts—”

The sudden squeeze on his hand could cut off circulation and the grunt that emitted from his body over and over as he continued to do it couldn’t be missed. At this point it didn’t even hurt anymore, but the previously denied orgasm returned full force.

Mattsun, of course, would apologize later; but it wasn’t later yet. He finally lifted himself off you and gathered your legs once more so your ankles were at his ears, trying to feel more of the ribbed walls on either side. Your mouth fell open at the spot.

“Ha-hohfuck ‘m gonna cum.” You whispered.

“Mhmm? Let me feel it baby,” He leaned over again, almost testing your flexibility, running a hand along your cheek and swiping away a single tear that dropped from earlier while his forehead was against yours. Now that he knew how far you could go, he’d have a lot of fun with the positions he’d put you in.

“Fuck, fuck-!” You’d find him through your lashes so he could kiss you, the never ending thrusts seemingly reaching your belly button. He loved sucking on those pretty lips of yours.

He only let out a laugh of satisfaction as you stilled and stiffened around him, your arms roaming his back and head turning away. He continued to thrust downward, never letting up speed, causing you to writhe underneath him with every curl of his hips. He did eventually pull away and extend his arms though. It was for a nice view of your body.

His length slipping in and out as a white ring forms that’ll signify how many times he’s made you cum; your breasts through the shirt following your body back and forth; the already fucked out face you wield accompanied with a yawn—it was all so much, he almost couldn’t look anymore. In fact, he won’t.

He grabbed you and pulled you further down the marble so you could roll over, your wriggling body basically halfway there. Up you go by your hair, that flexibility coming in to play a second time while he fucked you. When you moaned at the tug, he wouldn’t be Mattsun if he didn’t tease you for it.

“Wow, who would’ve guessed. You like when I pull your hair?”

“Yes daddy,” you respond. It was almost instantaneous. You wished you could’ve said you meant to do it, but it was honestly an accident.

His thrusts slightly change, you wish you could say how. He dropped your head forcefully, took both of your wrists behind your back, and pulled you up by your throat. Your neck was strained trying to face him but you couldn’t help it, you had to listen when he was talking to you. He was amused, to say the least—especially when you stopped listening because of the way he was barely brushing that sweet nerve.

“That’s a filthy mouth of yours. Who knew you were such a slut?” He’d grin into your ear. “Mgh- since you’ve gotten so good at it, why don’t you tell daddy what you want?”

As long as you’ve known him, he’s made you say things you wouldn’t have even thought of saying prior. But right now? You couldn’t care less.

“Mmm,” you whimper, “h-harder daddy.”

You’re not sure how he unscrambled what you said with his hand restricting your throat and the other intermittent babble coming out of your mouth, but if anyone could, it was him. Mattsun was defiant and dominant, but when it came to your genuine pleasure, he’d gratify.

Teasing aside obviously.

With the slightest bend of his knees, he angled himself and thrusted farther upwards. Did you doubt he would remember where you’re g-spot was? You were choking up more than you already were and his name slipped off your tongue as if it were a veneration statement of butter. Your ass sounded throughout the apartment, the skin-on-skin contact loud enough for the neighbors to hear. The force was turning it red and Matsukawa loved it. He loved when the pussy talked back too.

In fact, you could tell, because he was gradually speeding up and his thrusts were slowly becoming sporadic.

“Oh shit-I’mmna-” You started.

“Come on it. Come on this dick so you can tell everyone you did it twice.”

“Mhmm.”

“You can tell all your little friends you’re mine and I’m yours.”

“Yes daddy…”

“Come so you find all the women I’ve ever talked to and tell them you’re the only one I want.”

With that, your eyebrows leveled out and your eyes shut while trying to process the sex drive and sweet believable words at the same time. Your body held onto Mattsun for dear life, to where he let go of your throat and held you close on the fall back down to your elbows. You were exhausted, but that grip your pussy still had on him was deadly. Deadly enough for him to slightly question whether you’d be a bad mom or not.

He obviously chose against it and sighed along your back while you came before pulling out. You turned around and crouched knowingly with whatever strength was left, then watched him jerk himself off above you. After you decided to take matters into your own hands (literally), he held himself up with his support on the counter. His head hanging over you while you stroked the other was a sight to remember.

With a final hiss, white decorated your face like a picture.

“Holy fuck,” his head faced the ceiling as he ran a hand over his face. The view he was met with when he came back down was insane, your hand curved behind his thigh and the other milking him dry of whatever was left. With a single bud of cum remaining, you licked your lips and smiled weakly.

What the hell would he do with you?

©hxltic

#haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyuu headcanons #haikyu x reader #haikyuu smut #god i want him so bad #matsukawa x y/n #mattsun imagines #mattsun smut #mattsun #mattsun <3 #hq matsukawa #matsukawa issei #haikyuu hcs #issei smut

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etherrreal · 1 year

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“spare me the details”

Pairing: matsukawa x fem!reader Genre: angst with a happy ending (i promise lmao), friends to lovers Summary: matsukawa is a good friend, which is why when you ask for his help figuring out what to wear for your date, he agrees without thinking much of it. but the longer he spends watching you get ready, the more he realizes how much he doesn’t want you to go. WC: 10,446 Warnings: brief mentions of alcohol, lots of suggestive lines, and on top of it all they were roommates (oh my god they were roommates) A/N: this fic happened because i wanted to write literally one scene of mattsun zipping up reader’s dress and now, 10k+ words later, we’re here :) also shoutout to luna for coming up with the fic title! <3 -Dawn

When you text Matsukawa right after his shift with a series of panicked voice notes and a string of siren emojis to match, he expects nothing short of a bug armageddon. He comes home fully prepared to find you standing on the kitchen counter, broom in hand as you frantically shout for him to get rid of whatever creepy crawling thing has invaded your home, the way he has on three separate occasions since the two of you moved in together.

Instead, when he arrives at your shared apartment, he finds you standing in the middle of your bedroom, heaps of fabric scattered across your mattress and pouring out from your closet. Thankfully, there’s no bug in sight, but you still look far from pleased, scowling at the floral-printed dress you’re holding as if it’s personally offended you.

You perk up when you spot him standing in your doorway, sleeves rolled up around his elbows and tie still half-hanging off his neck. You greet him with a welcome smile and a relieved “oh thank god” before letting go of the dress you’re holding, latching your hand around his wrist and tugging him inside.

That’s about all the warning he gets before he finds himself shoved into the comfort of your desk chair, watching as you turn this way and that in front of your mirror, trying on dress after dress in preparation for your date tonight. Apparently, the cute IT guy you met at your job’s last happy hour asked you out, and you need Mattsun’s help deciding what to wear.

Normally, this is your friend Aina’s job. It used to be Mattsun’s too, once upon a time, but that was before everything that happened your senior year of college, before things changed between you in a way that, for a while, neither of you were sure you’d be able to come back from.

Thankfully, the two of you managed to fix things in the end, but that particular part of your friendship, the part that made you comfortable enough to talk freely about things like romance and dating, was never quite the same. It still isn’t, if he’s being honest, despite the fact that the two of you live together now, despite the fact that it’s been a year since everything happened.

It’s why he never lets his hookups stay the night, why you never say anything about the extra pair of heels you see on the shoe rack that are always gone by morning. It’s why you only ever mention your dates in passing, why he never asks for details.

He’s honestly shocked you’ve asked for his help at all, but with Aina busy visiting her family in Tokyo, Makki off with his new girlfriend, and the rest of your friends stuck at work, he figures he’s all you have left. And because he’s a good roommate and an even better friend, he agrees to help, even though the idea of you going on a date with someone else –cute IT background or not– kind of makes him want to throw up, for reasons he’s not quite ready to explore just yet.

So instead of lingering on the thought, Mattsun decides to focus on something a little easier for him to admit to himself, like the fact that you look really good tonight. Then again, you always look good to him, which he supposes is another problem entirely. He likes to think he’s gotten better at ignoring it over the years, only allowing his gaze to linger when he’s sure your attention is occupied elsewhere, but the way you look tonight has him wondering how much longer he’ll be able to keep it up.

Most of your hair has been pinned up and away from your face –he figures you’re waiting to let it down until right before you leave– and there’s something gold and shimmery on your eyelids and cheekbones that catches the light whenever you move, highlighting your features. Your lashes are long and dark, a deep shade of red staining your lips that the more indecent part of him is tempted to smudge.

And if all of that isn’t already bad enough, you’ve also spent the past ten minutes strutting back and forth in every pretty dress you own. You turn back to him after slipping into each one to ask which looks best, hair all mussed up and fabric clinging to your hips, and all he can think about is how much more useful he’d be in helping you out of them.

But the two of you are best friends, have been since you met during your first year of university, when you ended up sitting next to each other at a bonfire neither of you really wanted to attend and bonded over smores and cheap beer. And last time he checked, you aren’t supposed to have these kinds of thoughts about your best friend, no matter how pretty their eyes are or how tempting they look in a little satin dress. Which is why, for the sake of your friendship –and, he thinks, for the sake of his own sanity– he keeps them to himself.

He likes to think he’s doing a pretty good job of it, too, allowing himself only a quick once-over whenever you step out in a new dress before averting his gaze and giving his opinion, determined not to appear too interested or eager. It helps that he has his phone to distract him, along with a bag of pretzels you left open on your desk that he keeps stealing from every now and then.

It works for the first few minutes, at least, until you’re walking out of your closet wearing what feels like your twentieth option of the night, and all he has to say, after barely sparing a glance at you, is that he likes the color. Never one to be ignored for long, you snatch up the closest projectile –in this case, your stuffed koala– and launch it straight at him, determined to get his attention by any means necessary.

Unsurprisingly, the plushie hits him square in the chest –he and Makki always like to joke you’d make a terrifying wing spiker– and he looks up to find you standing in front of him again, pretty red lips pulled into a frustrated frown.

“Ouch,” he says, feigning hurt as he picks the stuffed koala up and sets it back on your desk, though you both know he hardly felt it. Years of athleticism and routine gym workouts have left him with an impressive wall of muscle, if the appreciative glances you send him whenever he leaves the shower shirtless are any indication. “What was that for?”

“You know exactly what that was for.” You shoot him a flat look, hands resting on either side of your hips. The dress you’re wearing now is made of a red velvety material, with long sleeves and a sloping neckline revealing a generous amount of cleavage that has him nearly choking on his pretzels. “You’re supposed to be helping me through a crisis here, not eating all my food.”

“Hey, you’re the one who decided to have a fashion emergency during my dinner time. Excuse me for not wanting to starve.” He scoops up another handful of pretzels as if to prove his point, tossing them into his mouth while you roll your eyes. “And besides, I have been helping you. Didn’t I tell you the green one you tried on was cute?”

“I’m a grown ass woman. I don’t have time for cute.” You give a little huff of indignation when you say it, which, in retrospect, just makes you look cuter, though Mattsun is wise enough not to bring that up now. “I have time for beautiful, maybe even time for pretty, but definitely not for cute, which means I need you to stop being charming and start project makeover-ing my ass.”

“Ah, so you think I’m charming?”

“I’m walking away now.”

“I’m kidding! Hey, come on, I was just messing with you. I’ll help now, for real.” He’s still grinning when he says it, but he locks his phone to show you that he’s serious, putting it down on your desk and wiping his hands free of any crumbs. “I promise.”

And for what it’s worth, he means it. He knows it’ll be quite the slippery slope, giving his honest opinion about how you look without also giving away the attraction he’s usually a lot better at pretending he doesn’t feel for you, all in the service of helping you get ready for the date he’s still kind of bummed you’re going on. But you’re his best friend, and you asked for his help. And while the thought of you and your IT guy still makes him queasy, he wants to help you, and that’s precisely what he resolves to do.

You’re wearing a different dress now, something soft and smooth made of purple satin that cinches at the waist and clings to your curves in a way that has his mouth feeling dry and his face feeling a little warmer than usual. He watches you fiddle with the straps, snapping them into place against your shoulders.

He imagines his hands replacing yours, fingertips grazing the slope of your collarbone and brushing over your shoulders, sliding down to your sides. He wonders what the satin would feel like against his palms, how the fabric would give beneath his fingertips, shifting as he pushes it up and over your hips–

“Well?” The sound of your voice snaps him out of his thoughts, and immediately he tears his gaze away from where it’s drifted rather unhelpfully down to your ass. He does it just in time, too, because all of the sudden you’re turning around to face him, an eyebrow raised expectantly. “What do you think of this one?”

“...I like it,” Mattsun says evenly, after taking a moment to compose himself, though the sudden dryness in his mouth makes the words come out a little strained. He only hopes you don’t notice it, hopes his voice sounds steadier than the rest of him feels. “It looks nice on you.”

Any other time, you might’ve smiled at the compliment, maybe even poked fun at him for going soft on you, but now you just groan in annoyance, planting your hands on your hips and fixing him with an unimpressed stare. “You’ve said that about the last three dresses, Issei.”

“I meant it,” he tells you, because he did. “You look really nice in all of them.”

“But I don’t want to look just nice.” You’re pouting now, brows furrowing as you smooth your hands over the skirt of your dress. “I want to look hot. Like having him drooling as soon as he sees me kind of hot.”

“Drooling, huh? That’s a pretty tall order.” He raises an eyebrow at you, ignoring the way his stomach starts to twist at the reminder of your impending date in favor of flashing you a teasing smirk. “You sure your IT nerd’s gonna be able to handle that?”

You start to smile, but it only lasts for a few moments before you’re remembering your current predicament and letting out a tired, frustrated sigh.

“I’m being serious, Issei. This is really important to me. It’s my first date in a while, and I want to make a good impression.” You tug at the straps of your dress and tilt your head at him, eyes soft and pleading. “Please help me?”

And though Matsukawa is still far from being a fan of you going off with someone else looking as lovely as you do –though he’s just starting to realize how much he wants to be the one you dress up for instead– in all the time he’s known you, he’s never really been able to deny you of anything, and he’s certainly not going to start now.

It doesn’t take him long to come up with his suggestion. He shifts in his seat, lifting a hand to rub at the back of his neck. “What about the one you wore for New Year’s?”

“The black one?” you ask, perking up with interest.

When he nods, you turn to the mountain of clothes on your bed and begin rummaging through the pounds of fabric, pulling out the exact dress he was thinking of with surprising ease. He tries not to look too eager as you do, even though the memory of you in it is a sight permanently seared into his brain.

“Here it is. I almost forgot I had this one.” You hold the dress up to your body and tilt your head, questioning gaze searching for his. “You don’t think it’s too boring?”

“Not even close,” Mattsun replies, completely sure of it. You looked absolutely stunning that night, all bright smiles and silver-framed eyes, and he was far from the only one who noticed it. Looking back, it was probably the closest he’s ever come to telling you the truth about how he feels.

“Don’t you remember on New Year’s, when you walked over to us and Iwaizumi got all flustered and started choking on his champagne, but wouldn’t tell you why?” It takes a moment for you to recall the memory, but when he sees you nod, he continues, “it was because he saw you in that dress.”

You’re quick to wave it off, laughing like you don’t really believe him. “Yeah, right.”

“It’s true,” he insists. “It might not be as intense as full-on drooling, but I’d say it’s pretty close, all things considered.”

“You know what? I’ll take it.” You drape the dress over one of your arms and turn towards your closet, though not before pausing to send him a grateful smile. “Thanks, Issei. I’m gonna go try it on!”

With that, you’re off, disappearing back into your closet to change. It isn’t long after you’ve left that he hears your voice again, the sounds of your frustrated swearing only partially muffled by the door.

He calls out to you, asking if everything is all right, and that’s when the door creaks back open, your head poking out into view. Some of your hair has fallen down and over your shoulders, and you’re using both hands to keep the front of the dress pressed firmly against your body, pretty lips pulled into a frown.

“The stupid zipper is stuck,” you grumble, features scrunched up in annoyance, and somehow it’s both the best and the worst thing you could’ve told him at the same time. “I can’t reach it. Can you help zip me up?”

It takes him a moment to respond, his brain all but short-circuiting at the thought of having you so close to him, at the idea of his skin brushing yours, but eventually he manages a nod, muttering out a “sure” that sounds a bit too strained for his liking and wiping his palms against his pants as he stands to join you.

You step out and walk until you’re facing the floor-length mirror, and he follows until he’s standing right behind you, just a few short inches of space between you that suddenly feel a lot smaller now that he’s caught your gaze in the glass.

He knows the smart thing –the right thing, for both of you and for the sake of your friendship– would be to look away. To pretend it means nothing, even as he feels his pulse pick up beneath his skin, even as his entire body warms at the proximity, but he doesn’t. He can’t, not when you’re finally here in front of him, all bright-eyed and gorgeous, and certainly not when he’s this close to you in the way he’s tired of pretending he doesn’t want to be.

And maybe he’s just imagining it, but right now you’re looking at him like you’re thinking the same thing, like you’re just waiting to see what he’ll do next.

He watches the way you watch him as he gathers and moves the parts of your hair that have come loose, sweeping them away to the front of your shoulder and ignoring the feel of them as they brush against his fingers. He looks away only to locate the zipper of your dress and immediately regrets it, the smooth skin of your back and shoulders on full display making the dryness in his throat from before return with a vengeance.

He takes his time, savoring the moment despite knowing how selfish it is of him, as he begins to zip the dress the rest of the way shut. It catches again somewhere in the middle, his knuckles grazing your skin as a result. You let out a little gasp when it happens, a tiny, breathless sound that makes his skin feel like it’s on fire, one he would’ve missed if he wasn’t standing as close to you as he is now.

Immediately, his gaze snaps up to meet yours in the mirror. You look as surprised as he feels, eyes wide and mouth slightly open, like you can’t believe the sound came from you. The moment is ephemeral, your gaze darting away from his after only a few seconds, but it feels like a lifetime. He knows it’s all he’ll be able to think about for days to come, long after you’ve left for the date he really wishes you weren’t going on anymore.

He zips the rest of the dress up without any further incident, though the tension between you is still there, despite both of your valiant attempts to ignore it. He knows the smart thing –the right thing– to do right now would be to move his hands, to let you go and step away so that you can finish getting ready. He has to, because the two of you are just friends, and he has no right to feel the way he does about any of this, especially after everything that’s happened between you.

But Matsukawa’s always been a little bit selfish when it comes to you, and tonight is no different, especially when he remembers that little gasp you gave earlier, the heated look in your eyes as your gaze met his. So instead of moving away, he lets his knuckles graze your skin again, lets his fingertips trace down the outline of the zipper until his hands are resting on your waist.

And instead of stopping him, instead of pushing him away, you sink into his touch, allowing yourself to lean back just enough that your back can rest against his front. You settle against him like you belong there, so close that he catches the scent of your perfume, the same heat he feels spreading across his skin burning into yours.

It’s easy to forgive himself after that, to bring his mouth to your ear as his eyes meet yours in the mirror.

“There.” He’s so close to you now that his lips graze your ear as he speaks. It makes you shiver, just noticeably enough that he considers forgetting all about preserving your friendship and kissing you senseless right then and there. Against all odds, he manages to resist the urge, settling for giving your hips a light squeeze instead. “All done.”

“...Thanks,” you murmur, sounding as dazed as he feels. “What…what do you think?”

He moves his gaze away from yours long enough to take in the sight of you all dressed up, unsurprised to discover you look just as, if not even more so, beautiful as you did on New Year’s. The black dress is long and form-fitting, with a square neckline and ruched fabric that cinches at your waist and eases over your hips nicely. There’s a slit on the left of it that exposes a bit of your thigh, two thin straps against your shoulders holding it all up. And with your hair swept over your shoulder and that bold look in your gold-framed eyes, you are both breathtaking and completely devastating, the longer he stares at you knowing he can’t have you.

I think you’re the most stunning thing I’ve ever seen, is what he wants to tell you. I think I want you to stay home because I hate the idea of you going out with anyone else who isn’t me. But mostly I think I’m a coward and an idiot for having you right here in front of me all this time and not doing anything about it.

But he can’t say any of that now, because it’s late and selfish and not at all what you deserve, so he doesn’t.

“You look amazing,” is what he says instead, and as he meets your gaze again in the mirror, he can only hope you see how much he means it. “Your IT nerd won’t be able to keep his eyes off you.”

And he knows he should just leave it at that, knows it isn’t fair to take it any further, but still he tells you anyway, consequences be damned, “...I know I wouldn’t.”

Another murmur of thanks leaves your lips, an uncharacteristic shakiness lingering in your voice that he wonders might mean something more.

You still haven’t looked away. He knows now he doesn’t want you to. And he wonders, not for the first time, if maybe the risk to your friendship is worth it, if he should stop all this waiting and longing and just do something about it–

The blaring of an alarm cuts him off before he can get any further, one he’s sure the more practical part of you set on your phone well in advance to ensure you wouldn’t be late for your date. It shatters the moment almost instantly, leaving you wide-eyed as you finally seem to notice how close the two of you are, how long you’ve been staring at each other.

You swear and move away from him, slipping out of his grasp as you scramble across the room in search of your phone. You find it resting face-down on your desk and silence it with a swipe of your thumb.

You don’t turn back to look at him right away, almost like you’re taking the extra time to steady yourself before you face him again. He’s tempted to laugh, mainly because he’s pretty much doing the exact same thing right now.

When you do finally turn back to him, you find him standing with his hands shoved into his pockets, an attempt at appearing casual, despite the sinking feeling in his chest.

“Guess you should probably finish getting ready, huh?” Mattsun’s chest tightens as the words leave his mouth, lips curving into a smile he can only hope reaches his eyes. “Wouldn’t want to keep your IT nerd waiting.”

“Yeah.” It takes you a moment, but soon you return the gesture with a hesitant smile of your own. “Thanks again for all your help, Issei. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

He manages to choke out a strained “anytime” that he’s sure sounds unfairly bitter. Thankfully, you don’t seem to notice it, excusing yourself to touch up your makeup before you go, and because he’s a masochist, Mattsun follows, hovering just outside of the doorway to keep you company.

And as he watches you apply the finishing touches to your look, letting down the rest of your hair and touching up your lipstick, that sinking feeling in his chest grows and grows until he can’t ignore it any longer. Until it makes him ask a question he very well knows he shouldn’t.

“So, how’d you meet this guy again?”

You don’t answer right away, the question giving you pause as you spare him an odd look from the corner of your eye. You know as well as he does that the two of you don’t talk about things like this, at least not anymore. You’ve both learned it’s easier for everyone if you just spare each other the details about the people you’re seeing, and though you never agreed to it outright, it’s a rule you’ve both followed faithfully ever since. He’s not sure your friendship would’ve survived without it.

You seem surprised he’s willing to break it now, and honestly, so is he. Still, you decide to answer him anyway, though the guarded look in your eye makes him think you’d prefer not to.

“I told you, I met him at a happy hour. One of my co-workers introduced us. We talked, danced for a bit, and then he asked me out.”

“Right.” He crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the doorframe, hoping he sounds casual and disinterested, even though he feels anything but. “And was this before or after your fourth margarita of the night?”

You start to laugh, until you realize he’s being serious. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it does. Three-drink you is fun and likes to dance. Four-drink you, however, has poor judgment skills. Remember Aina’s birthday, when you, non-existent upper body strength and all, tried to do a handstand and nearly gave yourself a concussion?”

“Key word being nearly.” You grin, a mischievous glint in your eye nearly identical to the one you’d had on the night in question, and when all Mattsun can think is how endearing it makes you look, he knows he’s in trouble. “Besides, you’re one to talk. The last time you got drunk, I had to stop you from jumping the gate at Aina’s place, and that was only two drinks in.”

“In my defense, I was being chased–”

“By what, her six pound toy poodle?”

“Whatever. That’s not my point.”

“And what, pray tell, is your point, Issei?”

“My point is, what if you don’t actually like your IT guy as much as you think? What if he’s actually a huge creep and four-drink you just didn’t notice it because you had your margarita blinders on?”

He keeps his tone light and easy, hoping he sounds more concerned than jealous, because while he definitely doesn’t love the idea of you going out with someone else, he doesn’t actually want to make you think he’s questioning your judgment. He just wants to get you to reconsider things a bit without actually revealing how much he wants you to stay, how much he wants you.

“He is not a creep,” you say easily, in a firm voice that leaves little room for argument, and Matsukawa does his best to ignore how your words make him feel like he’s being punched in the ribs, how that feeling only worsens when he realizes this guy might actually be good for you. “He’s a sweet, cute, thoughtful guy who wants to get to know me better. He even left me a note on my desk this morning saying how excited he is to see me tonight.”

“So he broke into your office instead of just texting you about it?” He shakes his head, clicking his tongue. “I don’t know. Sounds like a creep to me. I wouldn’t blame you if you texted him right now saying you have to cancel on him. In fact, I’d even let you use my phone.”

“He didn’t break into anything, you weirdo. He was trying to be romantic, and it worked.” You cap your lipstick and set it on the counter, using a tissue to blot away any excess as you quirk an eyebrow at him in the mirror. “Why are you being so weird about this, anyway?”

“What? I’m not being weird about anything,” he denies quickly, though it’s hardly believable. You cast another odd look in his direction as you toss the tissue away, but still, you don’t call him out on it. And while part of him is grateful for that, there’s another part of him that almost wishes you would. “All I’m doing is expressing my concern for my best friend before she goes out with a man who may or may not have a history of breaking and entering.”

“Yeah, well, lucky for him, I don’t plan on pressing any charges.” You give your reflection one last look and smile, satisfied with your work. That’s when you turn to face him, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze as you pass him in the doorway. “So stop worrying so much, okay? I’ll be fine, I promise. Now come lock the door for me. I’ve gotta leave now if I want to get there in time.”

You head back into the hallway, and Mattsun, not having much of a choice, follows, though he’s not exactly happy about it. In fact, he finds himself dreading every step, knowing each one takes you further away from where he wants you to be, further away from him.

You’re by the front door now, dressed in your long coat with your purse thrown over your shoulder. You’re still talking as you remove your heels from the shoe rack and slip your feet inside. You mention something about there still being leftover stir fry in the fridge and how he shouldn’t wait up for you, but he can hardly register it over the sheer longing seizing his chest, worsening with every step you take towards the door.

And Matsukawa knows, long before he even says anything, that what he’s about to do is quite possibly the most selfish thing he’ll ever do in his life. But then he thinks about everything that’s happened between you two up until this point –about the fact that he has a playlist with all your favorite songs on it, about all the times he’s tucked you in after you’ve fallen asleep on his shoulder, about the way seeing you smile feels like home– and he figures it’s worth it.

Because the only thing worse than telling you the truth about how he feels and being rejected, he decides, would be keeping it to himself and regretting it later, the same way he’s been regretting it every day this past year.

“Hey.”

He says it so quietly that at first, you don’t hear him. It’s only when he calls your name that you stop, pausing in what you’re doing long enough to flash him a curious look.

And he knows he probably shouldn’t, knows it isn’t fair, but he braces himself and says it anyway, in the softest and most sincere voice you’ve ever heard him use.

“Don’t go.”

You blink, eyes wide as your body stills in the entryway. “...What?”

“Don’t go out with him tonight,” he repeats, stronger this time, firm. “Just stay here.” With me, he wants to add, but doesn’t, at least not yet. But then he watches the look in your eyes change, the confusion giving way to understanding, to shock, and he realizes he doesn’t need to. “Please. Just stay.”

For a long moment, you don’t say anything at all. You just stare at him, stunned, silent, a million emotions passing over your face in the span of a few seconds. There’s definitely anger, along with complete and utter disbelief, like you can’t even begin to fathom the fact that he’s doing this right now. If he’s being honest with himself, neither can he.

All he knows is that watching you walk out that door and smiling like he’s okay with it would’ve been another lie, and he’s so tired of lying to you, to himself. He’s tired of pretending that all the stolen glances and lingering touches you’ve exchanged over the years mean nothing, tired of pretending that he wants you any less than he actually does. He can only hope that you feel the same.

You have to know exactly what he’s trying to tell you, why he wants so badly for you to stay. You’re too smart not to. Still, you refuse to acknowledge it, eyes narrowing and expression hardening as you cross your arms over your chest.

Your reply is terse, stubborn, a question that sounds more like a warning. “And why should I do that?”

“You know why.”

“No, actually, I don’t–”

“Yes,” he interrupts you, quietly, knowingly, because you do. You do know. It’s written all over your face. You just don’t want to admit it, the same way he didn’t want to admit it when you found yourselves in this exact same situation last year. “Yes, you do.”

“No.” Your voice is low and sharp as you speak, the harshest he’s ever heard it, even as your eyes begin to water, even as your lip trembles. “No, I don’t– you can’t– you can’t do this to me, Issei. It isn’t fair. You can’t, not after everything, not when you’re the one who–”

“I know.” And the worst part is that he does. He knows you don’t deserve this, knows that he has the shittiest timing ever, but he can’t help it. He can’t let you slip through his fingers again, not after learning what it’s like to be so close to you, not after seeing the way your eyes met his in the mirror, like you could feel it, too. Like you could want him, like you could still want him, despite all the ways he knows he’s disappointed you. “I know that, okay? I know it’s not fair–”

“Do you? Do you, really? Because if you did, you wouldn’t be doing this to me right now.”

There’s anguish in your voice, thick enough to coat every word you say, a hurt so deep that he hates himself for not noticing it sooner. Even now, you try to hold it back, determined to keep him from seeing it and finding out how strong it is, how long you’ve held onto it, though whether it’s for your own sake or his, he can’t really tell. All he knows is that watching it happen makes him hate himself even more for doing this to you. Guilt coils around him and nestles somewhere deep inside his bones, tightening like a hand around his throat.

“This shouldn’t even be a conversation. Not again. Not now.” You shake your head and blink back tears, the grip you have on your keys tight and unforgiving. “You’re the one who rejected me, remember?”

It’s enough to make Mattsun wince, even more so because it’s true. “It wasn’t like– I didn’t mean to–”

“But you did, Issei! You did. Last year, when I told you I had feelings for you, you let me. You let me pour my heart out, let me kiss you– hell, you even kissed me back, and then? Then you told me it was a mistake, that it couldn’t happen, that you didn’t see me that way and that we were just friends–”

“I know what I said!”

He doesn’t mean to shout –it’s actually the last thing he wants to do, especially when he’s the one who screwed things up in the first place– but that’s what comes out. It stuns you both into silence, though it’s nothing like the comfortable ones you usually share. This one is heavy and tense, weighed down by the gravity of all that’s happened between you, by all the things you’ve left unsaid.

He shuts his eyes, pausing to take a deep breath as he rakes a hand through his hair. When he opens them and starts to speak again, his voice is much softer, though the tension between you is still there, like a fever you can’t seem to shake, a chain that binds you to each other, for better or worse.

“I know what I said, okay? And I lied. I lied about everything. Back then, what I told you, it wasn’t because I didn’t have feelings for you, because I did. I do.”

The confession leaves you both floored, though for very different reasons. Him because of how easily it fell out of his mouth, how right it felt to say it, and you because you can’t believe it, because it’s the last thing you expected to hear.

“You what?” Your eyes are wide, lips parted as you gape at him. “But you told me– when did you– how could you even–”

“How could I not? You’re smart as hell, not to mention confident and unfairly funny. You’re impossibly stubborn, too, especially if it’s something you’re passionate about, and so much kinder than you give yourself credit for. And god, when I look at you? I can’t– I can’t stop looking at you.”

He takes a step forward, bridging the distance between you, and you’re so stunned that you let him. It makes him brave enough to reach out a hand to you, cupping your face in his palm. Your eyes widen at the contact, but you don’t push him away.

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted,” he says, quieter now but still so sincere, as he brushes your cheek gently with his thumb. “So I need you to know, all of those things I said back then– they had nothing to do with my feelings for you.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me that?” Your voice cracks, a tear escaping your eye and rolling down your cheek, and it does something awful to his heart, knowing he’s the reason for it. “Why did you lie and say that you only saw me as a friend?”

And though the memory of what he’s done and of all the ways he’s hurt you still fills him with shame and regret, Mattsun knows that he owes it to you to tell the truth, so that’s exactly what he does.

“Because I was scared. We were friends for so long, and the way I felt about you –the way I still feel about you– I’ve never felt that way about anyone before. And all I could think about was if we decided to be something more, and things went wrong, then I’d lose you. And I didn’t– I couldn't risk that.”

The laugh that leaves your throat is bitter and humorless, even as another tear falls from your eye. He’s quick to wipe it away, though part of him knows even before he does it that it’s nowhere near enough to make up for everything he’s put you through. “So you decided to lie to me about it instead?”

He looks down, ashamed. “I’m sorry. I know it was shitty–”

“It wasn’t just shitty, Issei, it was fucking heartbreaking. You broke my fucking heart.”

You reach for his wrist and tug, removing his hand from your face and stepping away from him. The distance hurts you both more than you know, but you’re too upset to think about that right now, voice raw as you snap at him.

“When you let me kiss you –when you chose to kiss me back– you made me think that it was worth it, that you might actually feel the same way, only to take it back and tell me that you didn’t, that you wanted us to just stay friends.”

You’re practically shaking now, all that pain and heartache you’ve tried so hard to bury clawing their way back up to the surface, tumbling out of you before you can stop them.

“And hearing that fucking sucked, of course it did, but I accepted it because it’s what I thought you wanted, because our friendship meant more to me than my own feelings did. And now that I am finally making my peace with it, now that I’m actually trying to move on, you turn around and tell me that it was all a lie? That you actually have feelings for me?”

You shake your head, reeling and incredulous. Your eyes fill with tears while his heart aches to hold you, and it’s like you’re both reliving that night all over again.

Mattsun remembers it all too well, that night your senior year of college, when you, him, and the rest of your friends packed into Aina’s apartment for one of her notorious parties. The two of you stood together on the balcony, nursing lukewarm beers and lamenting your upcoming final exams. Neither of you were entirely sure what your plans were for after graduation, but what you did know was that you didn’t want to end the year with any regrets.

He thinks that’s what brought it out of you back then, what made you turn to him, nervous but brave, and say you had something you needed to tell him. He never would’ve guessed that you’d say you had feelings for him, or that you’d curl your fist into his shirt and press your lips to his only a few moments after.

And you’re right. He did kiss you back. He let you run your fingers through his hair and tug him closer, let his tongue dip into your mouth and his lips trail down your jaw and neck as he wrapped his arms around your waist. He would’ve kept kissing you, too, would’ve kept you breathless and whispered that he felt the same against your lips, the way he’d been feeling for so long, if it weren’t for the fear that planted itself into his head immediately after.

Because Matsukawa’s been in relationships before. They hadn’t all ended terribly, of course –he’s not that much of an asshole– but no matter what terms he and his previous partners had ended on, the truth of the matter was that they never spoke again.

And the thought of that happening with you –the thought of never speaking to you again, of losing you forever– terrified him, leaving him panicked and afraid enough to decide, right then and there, that no matter how much he wanted it –no matter how much he wanted you– this would be a road the two of you couldn’t go down.

So he pulled away. He lied, feeding you some bullshit line about not feeling the same and about the two of you being better off as friends, even though it broke his heart to do so, even though every fiber of his being ached to pull you back to him. Your lip trembled and your eyes watered, but you didn’t cry. You just nodded and accepted it, told him that you understood, that it was fine.

You didn’t see each other for the rest of the weekend. When you did finally meet up, it was for lunch at the campus cafe, a tradition between classes you’d established your freshman year. You agreed to stay friends, and then you never talked about it again.

Until tonight, of course, when he asked you to stay. Until right now.

It hits him, then, how selfish he’s been, how thoughtless. Before, Mattsun told himself that lying to you about his feelings was the best thing for both of you, the only way to ensure that your friendship would remain intact and to keep you from losing each other. Not once did he stop to consider whether or not that was something you actually wanted, and it’s only now that he’s realizing how deeply unfair that was of him.

Even now, he’s still being selfish with you, confessing his feelings an entire year later, as if that makes it better, as if he still has the right. And sure, you leaned into his touch earlier; sure, you let him run his fingers up your back and hold your waist, but that doesn’t mean you still want him that way. It doesn’t mean that you have to forgive him, either, not when he doesn’t deserve it.

Earlier, he thought being honest with you about his feelings was the right thing to do. Now he’s not so sure. All he knows is that he’s really, really sorry. That he hates himself for hurting you, and that if he ever really plans on doing right by you, then the first thing he needs to do is apologize.

So he does.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you, soft, sincere, and you know how much he means it. You see it in the way his shoulders slump, in the sad, regretful way he looks at you. “I’m sorry for lying to you and for making you believe I didn’t have feelings for you, even though I did. I’m sorry for hurting you. And I’m sorry for waiting to tell you all of this now, even though I should’ve said something sooner. I’m just– I’m really, really sorry. For everything.”

You don’t accept his apology, but you don’t tell him to go fuck himself, either, which is honestly more than he deserves. Instead, you take a tentative step towards him, folding your arms over your chest. Your eyes are still a little watery, but you’re not actively crying anymore, though a few tears linger on the curve of your cheeks. He wants to wipe them away again, but he thinks better of it and keeps his hands at his sides, unsure of how you’d react if he did.

“Why didn’t you?” you ask, and it’s not angry or sad anymore, just curious, confused. “Say something sooner, I mean.”

“Because it was too late. Because you were dating again, and it would’ve been wrong of me to get in the way of you being happy.” He shifts on his feet, guilty and apologetic, as he averts his gaze to the floor. “I figured you’d moved on. And even if you hadn’t, part of me was still scared of saying something and losing you anyway.”

“Then why risk it now?” You take another step, and his eyes jump back to your face, watching as you tilt your head at him, soft and seeking. “Why is tonight any different?”

“I didn’t think it would be,” he admits, because honestly, it shouldn’t have been. It wasn’t supposed to be, at least, until you gasped when his fingers brushed your skin, the sound embedding itself somewhere deep inside his brain. It did something to him, that sound, woke something up he had almost forgotten about.

“When you told me about your date, I thought I could pretend to be okay with it, that I could ignore it the way I’ve done before. And I was going to, I was trying to, but then…” He lets his voice trail off, lets his gaze lock onto yours the way it did before, warm and wanting. “Then I saw the way you looked at me in the mirror.”

Your eyes widen a fraction, lips parting. Your gaze jumps down to his hands, then back up to his face, and you swallow like you’re remembering it, too.

“I held you, and you let me. And I know it was only for a minute, but it just– I don’t know, it gave me hope, I guess? That it wasn’t too late. That what I was feeling wasn’t one-sided.” He shakes his head and lifts a hand to rub at the back of his neck, a small, sad smile curving its way onto his lips. “I know it sounds stupid–”

“It’s not.” You take his free hand into your own, and he watches, stunned, as you lift it towards you, letting his palm rest against the side of your face. He wonders if you notice his pulse pounding in his ears, how fast his heart is racing. “It’s not stupid.”

Slowly, tentatively, he wipes away what’s left of your tears, and to his surprise, you let him. You even go as far as leaning into his touch, cheek pressing gently into the curve of his hand. You open your mouth to speak again, a breathless little sigh of his name he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of.

“Issei, I–”

The rest of your sentence is cut off by the sound of your phone ringing. It’s a proper ring this time, too, not an alarm like before. And Mattsun knows, even before you look at it, that it’s your date who’s calling, just like he knows, even before you turn to him with that apologetic look of yours, what you’re going to do next.

Because Mattsun knows you, which means he knows that you’re the kind of person who always keeps her word, who makes plans and sticks to them. And like it or not, you made plans to meet with your IT guy tonight, plans he knows you’re not going to cancel on, no matter how much he wants you to.

His only consolation is that you look really conflicted about it, eyes flickering down to your phone in your hand, then back up to his face. It’s still ringing, but you’ve made no move to answer it. He almost starts to doubt that you will. Almost.

You don’t bother to say who’s calling, because both of you already know. Instead, you take a deep breath, voice heavy with uncertainty as you stare down at your phone. “I…I told him I was on my way. I didn’t think–”

“That I’d be selfish enough to ambush you with all of my repressed feelings before you could make it through the door? Yeah, me neither.” He tries to laugh about it, but it’s forced, hollow. It sounds nothing like him. “And again, I’m really sorry for that. The point is, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. All of this is my fault, anyway, remember?”

You frown at him, looking very badly like you want to argue, but something in his expression must stop you, because you don’t. Still, there’s guilt in your eyes when you meet his gaze again, and though it should make him feel better, he thinks it just makes him feel worse. “I have to go.”

“I know.” He brushes his thumb against your cheek once more before letting his hand fall back to his side. The smile he gives you is pained, sad. It doesn’t meet his eyes. “Be safe, all right?”

He takes a step back, letting you go for the second time in the past year. It feels just as awful and heartbreaking as it did the first, but he refuses to feel sorry for himself. He’s already been selfish enough with you tonight by confessing to you when you were halfway out the door. The least he can do for you after all that is to give you the space to move on.

The steps you take towards the door now are hesitant, unsure, so different from the way you felt only moments ago. It hurts, watching you walking away from him, but this time, he knows better than to stop you.

“Issei?” The sound of your voice draws his attention back to you, as you turn from the now open door to look at him from over your shoulder. “We’ll talk when I get back, okay?”

He doesn’t trust himself enough to speak, so he settles for just nodding. Just like before, you spend longer than you need to just looking at each other, gazes locked, a million things left unsaid between you.

And just like before, you’re the first to turn away, the door shutting quietly behind you.

The sound of your key turning in the lock makes Mattsun jolt up from the couch. He’s been laying there sulking ever since you left, a bowl of popcorn resting on his chest and a lukewarm beer in his hand.

He scrambles to sit himself up into a slightly less pathetic position, discarding the bowl of popcorn onto the coffee table. He considers putting the beer there, too, but ultimately decides against it, knowing you’d chew him out for not using a coaster. He ends up putting it on the floor instead and forces himself to stare at the tv in front of him, an old movie playing on the screen that he’s hardly paid any attention to, too busy stressing out over how your date was going and what the future of your relationship will be after all of this.

A quick glance at his phone confirms that it’s been less than an hour since you left. Forty minutes, at most. He wonders if that’s a good thing or a bad one. Don’t successful dates usually last longer? Or are you back now to tell him that things went so well that you have no interest in talking to him ever again? He isn’t sure, and the uncertainty makes him want to throw up.

The door opens and shuts, and he hears the usual sounds of you settling back into your apartment, the jingle of your keys in the bowl, the click of your heels on the shoe rack. Your feet pad across the floor, and then you appear at the foot of the couch, wearing the dress he picked out.

You look lovely. You always do. You’re a little nervous, too, standing with your hands clasped behind your back, a hesitant look in your eyes as you greet him. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he replies, for lack of anything else to offer. He gives a little wave, too, though it hardly does anything to ease the tension between you.

You nod at the couch. “Do you mind if I—?”

“Yeah, sure— I mean, no, of course I don’t mind. Go for it.” He shifts to give you a little more space, and you settle into the spot next to him, bringing your legs up to your chest. It’s tense and awkward, the complete opposite of how things usually are when you’re with each other. He doesn’t look at you when he clears his throat and speaks again. “You’re home early.”

“I wasn’t supposed to be,” is your quick reply. It’s blunt and honest enough to make him smile, despite how weighted things are between you now. “Earlier today, I was planning on spending the whole night enjoying my date, until this guy I know ruined it all by confessing his feelings for me right before I left.”

“That guy sounds like an asshole,” he says, only half-joking, and when he turns back to you and sees the way you start to smile, he figures it’s worth it. He leans back against the couch, running a hand through his hair. “You must really hate him, huh?”

“That’s the thing.” You reach out and take one of his hands, sliding your fingers through his own. It’s something you’ve done a million times before, but it feels different now, warm and deliberate in a way that has his heart racing. “I don’t.”

It surprises the hell out of him, hearing you say that –because honestly, after everything he’s done, you should hate him– but it also fills him with relief, makes him let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Still, it isn’t long before guilt starts to wash over him again, an awful, ugly thing that makes him want to draw into himself, if only you weren’t still holding onto him.

Mattsun looks down at your linked hands. Your grip is firm and tender, your skin warm and welcome against his, and all he can think is that he doesn’t deserve it. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did. After everything I put you through, you should hate me.”

“But I don’t. It’s true, what you did was stupid and selfish. You never should’ve lied to me in the first place, but it’s not like you did it to hurt me on purpose. You actually thought you were doing what was best for me, in your own weird way. And yeah, it was dumb as hell, but it’s not enough to make me hate you.”

You hold his hand a little tighter, squeezing your fingers around his. He wonders if you know how much it means to him now, how terrified he was at the thought of losing you.

“I could never hate you, Issei,” you say, and the honest, earnest way you meet his gaze makes him believe you. “I just wish you would’ve told me the truth sooner.”

“I should’ve been honest with you from the beginning. I’m sorry that I wasn’t.” He reaches out to you with a free hand, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear. “But mostly I’m sorry for hurting you.”

“I know. I forgive you.” You give his hand another gentle squeeze, brushing your thumb along the back of his skin. “Which is why I never actually made it to the restaurant for my date.”

He blinks, eyes widening. The shock is almost enough to make him drop your hand, but he holds fast, even as his gaze turns incredulous. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah, really. I tried to forget about everything that happened before I left, but all I could think about was you. I was halfway to the restaurant when I realized I couldn’t go through with it. It wouldn’t have been fair to either of us, but mostly to him. So I called him and told him I couldn’t do it, and then I came back here.”

Mattsun tries very hard to hide his grin, but when you nudge at his thigh and flick his forehead with your free hand, an unamused expression on your face, he realizes he’s probably doing a shitty job at it.

“You could at least pretend to feel a little bad, you know,” you scold him, though there’s no real bite to it. “He’s a good guy.”

“Hey, I do feel bad.” The doubtful look you give him makes him reconsider his answer. “Sort of. Not really.”

You roll your eyes, muttering something about him being too smug for his own good, but you don’t stop him when he wraps his free arm around your shoulders, letting him pull you into his side.

“Honestly, I’m just happy you came back,” he says, soft and vulnerable, the way you always seem to make him. “I was really scared that you wouldn’t.”

You rest your head against his shoulder and shrug in a noncommittal fashion, though the way you nuzzle into him and squeeze his hand is nothing short of comforting. “Yeah, well, it was either that or find a new roommate, and honestly, in this economy, it just wasn’t worth the trouble.”

Now it’s Mattsun’s turn to roll his eyes, pretending to be annoyed, even as his lips curl into a smile. “Yeah, yeah, we get it, you’re hilarious.”

“Damn right I am. What was it you said again?” You lower your voice, teasing and playful, delivering an impression of him that’s not even slightly accurate but still makes you throw your head back and cackle like you’re the funniest person in the world. “Oh, baby, you’re so smart and confident and unfairly funny, I can’t stop looking at you–”

Mattsun’s entire face goes red, and he has no choice but to tackle you, the rest of your sentence fading into a gasp which is quickly followed up by a protest as he wrestles you on the couch. All of a sudden, you’re on your back, body pressed between him and the cushions as he hovers over you.

Then his hands are at your sides, tickling you into submission. You gasp and laugh as you try to roll your way out of his grasp and into freedom, and pretty soon he’s laughing, too, and all that tension and anxiety from before disappears, leaving behind the comfort and familiarity you’re used to, the one that feels like home.

Eventually, he takes pity on you, and your wrestling match turned tickle war ends, allowing you both to catch your breath. Still, he doesn’t let you go, easing himself up on his forearms to keep his weight off you, face hovering only inches above your own.

“I meant what I said before, you know. I really am sorry. For everything.”

“I know.” You brush your thumb along his jaw, eyes tracing the movement before flickering back up to meet his own. “So where does this leave us?”

“Wherever you want. I never should’ve lied to you, no matter what my reasons were. And I definitely shouldn’t have waited so long to tell you the truth. It was unfair of me to make that decision for the both of us in the first place. So whatever happens next, wherever we go from here, it’ll be up to you.”

He pauses for a moment, letting his words sink in. You seem satisfied by his response, if the way your eyes soften is any indication, and nod for him to continue.

“If you want me to walk away, then I will.” It’ll break his heart and hurt like hell, of course, but he’ll do it, if that’s what you want, because he meant what he said. What happens from here on out will be on your terms, not just his. “If you want to stay friends, then we will. And if you want us to try dating, I’ll be outside your room door at 7 tomorrow night to pick you up.”

You pause to consider it for a moment, tilting your head, and then the bright look in your eyes, the one he’s always loved, darkens just a bit, turning into something wanting, something deliberate. Something that looks like desire.

“And what if I want you to kiss me?” you ask, in that bold and daring way of yours, the one that drew him to you in the first place.

Mattsun’s eyes widen, heart nearly careening out of his chest at your words. Every bone in his body urges him to lean down, to close the distance between you and press his lips to yours in the way he’s been wanting to all night.

Still, he finds it in himself to pause, drawing back enough to meet your gaze and ask, “Are you sure?”

You end up closing the distance for him, teeth grazing his bottom lip and making him groan. “Very sure.”

He doesn’t hesitate anymore after that. He tilts his head and presses his lips to yours in a way that has you both sighing, mouth moving in tandem against your own. Your hands tangle in his hair while he uses one of his to grip at your thigh, fingers pressing into your skin as he lifts your leg and guides it to wrap around his waist.

You’re both breathless when you pull away, lips smudged with red, pupils blown wide. Matsukawa thinks you’ve never looked more beautiful. Your hands move from his hair to cup his face, thumbs brushing against his jaw.

“You gonna run away this time?” you ask.

“Never again,” he swears, turning his head just enough to press his lips to the inside of your palm. “I promise.”

And it’s a promise, you’re pleased to note, that he never fails to keep.

Written by: Dawn

#matsukawa x reader #mattsun x reader #matsukawa issei x reader #haikyuu x reader #matsukawa imagines #haikyuu imagines #matsukawa x y/n #matsukawa x you #haikyu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq x reader #our writing #matsukawa angst #haikyuu angst #dawn writes

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makkir0ll · 1 month

Text

summer heat

(reader x mattsun)

959 words

{a/n: I did in fact finish writing this at 12 am. So excuse any grammar and mistakes. But this in fact my first ever piece I'm publishing here. So if you have any sort of constructive criticism please tell me (kindly though) anyways enjoy}

it was mid-summer, and its that point of the month where the temperatures were at their all time highs, and the fact that your air conditioning broke didn't make it any better.

it's late at night, you and your boyfriend mattsun couldn't sleep comfortably. The humidity and heat mixing which made your sheets stick to your sweaty body in discomfort.

the two of you had made your way to the living room couch. The room is dim with only the fairy lights you hung in your apartment giving it a comforting glow, and the light of the television playing your favorite show shines on your faces. The windows are open to let the cool night breeze in along with the fans spinning at the highest speeds in attempts to cool the both of you down. You and mattsun lay on opposite ends of the couch, not being able to sit close to each other without being uncomfortable, but your legs meet in the middle, tangled with each other.

"Its so hot" you groan in annoyance. Mattsun glances over at you, wishing he could do something. Anything. To put the two of you out of this misery.

"I know baby, tomorrow we'll call the landlord again and I'll make sure he fixes it. And if not, we can crash at Makki's" he responds in a sweet tone, putting his hand over your shin to comfort you. You smile at the gesture.

He feels the weight of the couch shift, he glances over at you get up and walk to the fridge. You open the freezer and grab two ice cubes, you turn back around to face him with a grin on your face. He smiles dearly at you as he watches you walk towards him, handing him the cube. He puts the cold cube on his body, the cool touch soothing him. You move his legs aside as you rub your ice cube all over your neck. You sigh at the feeling.

In that moment, mattsun can't seem to get his eyes off you. You look so beautiful to him at that moment. Your hair tied back in a bun with your front layers clipped back. You're wearing a sports bra and the shorts you've had since high school. You're wearing your glasses, that you only wear at home or when you're too lazy to put in your contacts. He wishes you always wore your glasses.

"What are you staring at? Do I have something on my face?" you question, looking at him, and putting your fingers around your mouth. Maybe some of your dinner had missed your mouth. He shakes his head no, and you turn your head back at the tv.

Suddenly he feels like this moment right here, this is it. Sitting on your couch as your favorite tv show plays in front of the two of you. He reaches his hand into the pocket of his shorts and he feels the small velvet box he'd been carrying around with him everywhere since after your one month anniversary.

Now he sits here, next to you, two years later on the couch the two of you bought when you first moved in after a year. His stomach is doing flips, he can't believe what he's about to do, but he knows that this is what he wants for the rest of his life. He's known since the moment he laid eyes on you.

"Will you marry me?"

"What?!" you say in shock, whipping your head to his direction. All your focus is on him.

"Will you marry me?" he asks again. His stomach churns, he feels butterflies in his stomach, his heart is beating faster than imaginable, and he starts sweating. Not because of the heat this time. He moves down to the ground and gets on one knee, pulling the box out his pocket, opening it to reveal the ring.

"Y/N, for as long as we've been dating that I was going to marry you. Fuck, since the moment I laid my eyes on you I knew. I-"

"Yes." you cut him off

"What?!"

"Yes. YES. YES! A MILLION TIMES YES! I'LL MARRY YOU!" You yell as you jump onto him. You have a couple of happy tears streaming down your face as you and mattsun lie on the floor of your apartment, bodies tangle with each other.

He shifts his weight so that you straddle his lap now. You cup his face, leaning in to give him a kiss. "I'll marry you any day" You say between kisses. He smiles and pulls you impossibly closer to him. He pulls away and grabs your left hand, sliding the ring onto your ring finger. It fits perfectly. Its in the metal you always wear, something he noticed immediately. It has a small diamond in the middle, nothing too fancy. You look at it in awe.

"I know its not much, but it's all I could afford at the moment." He looks at you, rubbing small circles on your hip.

"It's perfect." you say softly. Looking back at him. "It's everything and more. I love you"

"I love you too." He puts his hands behind your neck, pulling you into a kiss. You gladly kiss him bacl. It's soft, its intimate...

Its....cold?

You both feel a gush of cool air blow against your bodies. You break the kiss and stare in disbelief and turn to your air conditioner, seeing it had turned on. You giggle at the coincidence of the timing, and you guys go back to what you were doing before.

Its still late at night. You and your fiancé mattsun lay in bed sleeping comfortably in each others arms with a feeling of love in the air.

#haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#mattsun #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa fluff #mattsun x reader #mattsun fluff #matsukawa issei #seijoh #hq imagines #hq fluff #hq x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines

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laiiaaa · 1 year

Text

SEEMS PROMISING — MATSUKAWA ISSEI

summary: New to Japan, a friend drags you to a party. A bad one. You find an elusive yet alluring stranger outside.

contains: mentions of alcohol, Mattsun smoking cigs because I said so, Mattsun being a flirty little shit but you love it, just read it and find out

length: 3.6k

note: The affinity for mysterious, cig-smoking men with dark hair is real.

You press open the door, head pounding, and relish in the cool breeze that hits you as you slide it shut again. “Jesus Chri—oh, sorry,” you cut yourself off, embarrassed to see someone standing out on the balcony before you, off to the side and out of view from the door. What you thought was going to be a nice, peaceful fifteen minutes of solitude has morphed into yet another forcible—and probably unpleasant—interaction.

Leaning on the railing facing the cityscape before you, he looks over his shoulder dismissively. “You’re fine. Felt the same way coming out here.” He turns back around and you almost thank him for being so averse to the attitude inside the apartment: loud, drunk, far too inquisitive if not prying.

You want to ask when he came out here, because even after all the introductions Hajime orchestrated, you don’t think you caught this one’s name. And surely you would’ve seen him among the crowd—he’s noticeably tall, got luscious black curls atop his head, and doesn’t seem the type to talk your ear off. You make a mental note to tell your friends about him, even if his name never makes its way to you.

From his place a few feet away, he reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket—corduroy, probably cataloged as ‘saddle brown’ online—and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. He gestures with the box, asking, “Is it okay if I…?”

“Hm?” You turn to face him again. “Oh, yeah. Don’t worry, I won’t be out here too long.”

You’re not sure whether your comment offended him until he gives you that smirk, barely there yet enticing, almost smug with himself. He plucks one from the pack and lifts it to his lips, the metallic flick of his lighter cutting into his muffled motions. You watch carefully as he inhales and exhales, white clouds billowing from his lips and dissipating in the wind.

He takes it between his index and middle finger, leaning his forearms into the railing again before sparing you another glance, longer, more careful this time. “You know a lot of people in there?”

“A few,” you respond, “More, now that a friend introduced me. Definitely not as many as…what’s his name? The blonde one?”

His smirk almost curls into a smile. “Atsumu?” Another puff of smoke.

“Yeah, that one—he’s a little…”

“Little bit much?”

You give him a smile, and he can’t quite tell whether it’s the city lights in the view, or the two drinks he had before coming out here to clear his head, or if it’s just you, but he’s starting to think he’s glad he came to this little gathering, as stupid as it sounded twelve hours ago.

There’s a party inside, you know that much, but as for the reason for the get together, or even the name of the host, you’re not sure. Hajime only provided you with knowing he knows these people, and that it’d give you the chance to meet some now that you’re in Japan. What you didn’t expect was the volume, or the crowd, or the pack-like nature of the people there: they all seem to know each other one way or the other, and you could feel it.

You wouldn’t even say it was overwhelming, the number of people—no, there couldn’t have been more than thirty—but the feeling of being unknown, the other, was. You need to clear your head, get some fresh air. You’re not sure if anyone inside has noticed your absence.

You inch a little closer to the mysterious figure. “Something like that. Are you friends?”

“With Atsumu?” Something in his brows tell you that you’re not even close. “Funny. I know him from high school—played volleyball against him—but that’s as far as that goes.”

Volleyball, you think, That’s the connection? Who would’ve thought. “Ah,” you hum. “So you came to this because…?”

“You meet Iwaizumi yet? He convinced me.” He takes another drag as he gazes over the city. “Somehow.”

Your image of the man lightens at the fact he knows your only friend here, and a soft smile takes your lips. “Hajime did?”

Hajime. So, they’re close, he thinks. “Yeah, we went to the same school, played together, the works.” Could she be…? “He’s a pretty good guy, eh?”

“Yeah…yeah, he is.” You can’t tell what he’s getting at, if anything, and you make another mental note: if you don’t get anything else out of this man, you will be bugging Hajime about him.

“I’m Matsukawa, by the way. Most people just call me Mattsun.” When you give him your name in return, he thinks he could be winning. “Oh?”

You hesitate. “What, something wrong with it?”

“No, don’t worry.” He gives you a once over, and stands fully upright, facing you with one hand still on the railing. You think he’s putting too much faith in the strength of it. Maybe he’s a little more fearless, a little more reckless, than you’re used to. “Hajime’s mentioned you, is all.” He flicks away ash.

“Oh. Why’d you have to make it sound like a bad thing?”

He shrugs. “Didn’t mean to. He speaks highly of you.” You can almost see that smile of his behind plumes of tobacco.

“Really? What’s he say about me?”

“Well…that you’re smart, for one, though I can’t say I can agree with that yet.”

“Yet?”

“Yet.” He flashes a smirk again. “He says you’re funny, too. Again, not too sure about that one, but it seems promising.”

You lend him a blank stare. “Thanks.”

He wants to kick himself for chuckling at that—how could he let his advantage slip so soon? “See, you’re already on the right track.”

“Hm, nice to see you laugh a bit.” And that smile. You tug your jacket tighter around you, not wanting to sacrifice this seemingly meaningless interaction for the sake of the warmth you know is inside. “So, you find out anything else about me from Haji? Or just the basics?”

Ah, so now she’s calling him Haji. There’s a lot he’s kept from me. Hm. “Well, there’s also the fact that you’re very pretty.” He lifts his hand back to his mouth. He’s getting antsy, talking to you, and he’s not used to it.

Your brow furrows, and you consider calling Hajime out here to speak to him yourself. “Haji’s been telling people I’m pretty?” Very very handsome people, you add, internally, but this Matsukawa—Mattsun—doesn’t need that much…yet.

“Nope,” he answers. “Just an observation on my part.”

You cock your head to the side. “…Are you flirting with me?”

He drops his cigarette to the ground and presses it out with his shoe, barely considering whether he’s even allowed to smoke here before bringing his attention back to you. “Would it be more effective if I said yes?”

A laugh escapes you—pity or incredulity, you’re not sure. “Hm, I’m not too sure about that one yet.” You sigh with your lips curving against your will, your cheeks aching with mischief and the thought that maybe it was a good thing to show up. “But I guess it seems promising.”

Mattsun’s smile turns big enough to see teeth this time and he thinks he could be falling in love with you—or maybe he’s just starting to go crazy at the thought of you taking his bit like that, as if everything he has is yours to know and take. It lights a smug fire in your chest that you’ve left him speechless, watching him exhale a sigh through his nose with pink cheeks (from the cold or your quips, who knows?) as he opts to lean on the railing again.

“He’s never mentioned you, you know,” you start, walking right up next to him, turning what was a few feet into mere inches with your elbows on the cold, hard metal.

Your heart races a little faster now, with the whole city right in front of you and your center of gravity leaning a little too close to the ledge for comfort. The two of you could die right now, would the railing give way, but maybe that’s the fun of it for him. Maybe this Mattsun is pretty interesting after all.

“Hajime, you mean?”

“Yeah, it’s not fair, you know things about me, and I know nothing about you.”

“There isn’t much to know.” He shrugs again, splaying his hands out for emphasis.

“Well, you smoke.”

“Yep.”

“You wear a nice corduroy jacket.”

He whips his head in your direction. “You like my jacket?”

You nod earnestly. “Yeah, it looks good on you.”

“Thanks,” he says, biting his tongue to keep from saying more, because he has a feeling that with you, the blush rising to his cheeks will get him into trouble.

“No problem,” you chirp back, heading back to business. “You…used to play volleyball. Used to, right?”

He turns back to facing the city. “Used to.”

“Okay, that’s three things.”

He claps his hands together. “Great, now we’re even.”

“Come on,” you whine. He’s gonna be so much trouble, you think, with the way you’re dying for more. “Can’t we trade?”

“You want to trade information?”

“Yeah, why not? You’re very mysterious, there’s gotta be something to you, no?”

“Is this a free range kinda thing, or are we asking questions?” Mattsun is a bit of a risk taker, a tad impulsive. And maybe a bit too satisfied to have a pretty girl’s attention.

“Hmm…questions. You first, it’s only fair.”

“Alright,” he huffs, struggling to hide the fact that he’s slipping right into your hands. He stares up at the sky for a moment, considering the weight of his question. “How do you know Hajime?”

“Jealous, are we?” And part of you is hoping he is. “We met in college…sophomore year, I think? Neither one of us were from America, so we just kinda clicked. He was doing his sports medicine thing, and at the time I didn’t really know what I was doing yet, and he helped me out a lot. Anyway, we thought we’d never see each other after graduation, but then I got an internship here, so…here we are, I guess. Haven’t been here long, though, only a month or so.”

He doesn’t hesitate or give it a second thought before asking, “How long are you staying?”

You smile. “No follow up questions. I gave you more than you asked, too, so now it’s my turn.”

He waits patiently, contently, wondering what he should ask you next, but you came prepared for this battle.

“What’s your favorite song, and why?”

“That’s two questions.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He wonders what he did to deserve this: a beautiful, snarky girl like you, asking stupid questions about someone you don’t even know and aren’t obligated to.

“I’ve never really had to think about it.”

“Okay, then think about it now.”

He pauses. So demanding, this one, she’s gonna hurt. He ponders it almost too long for your liking. “Eight Miles High, I think, by The Byrds? My dad used to play it all the time.” He pauses again, smiling, and he wonders again about how he even ended up here, talking to you, with you smiling back at him as he explains, “He was born in Japan, but lived in Los Angeles for a while in his twenties, and he liked them a lot—said that nothing could compare to The Byrds playing through open windows cruising down the highway, so he kept a bunch of their CDs and played them for me when I was little. There’s nothing special about that song in particular, I just like the sound, heard it a lot, fits what I picture my dad was like, in a way.”

He’s cute, you think, under all that dark and gloom, he’s cute, and sentimental. “I like that answer,” you add. “Sounds pretty damn special.”

“Might be.” He shrugs and brushes aside the care you gave, listening to him. “Fuck, I need another cigarette,” he hisses, letting his head fall.

“If you do, I’ll go inside,” you say, not sure if it’s the threat you’re meaning it to be as much as it’s a plea for him to stay with you.

“Hm, don’t threaten me with a good time.” Yet he makes no move for his jacket. “I guess that’s the fifth thing I know about you, then.”

“And what would that be?”

“That smoking’s a no-go?”

If you knew better you might wonder why he’d care. “It’s not that,” you reassure, “I mean, I was in California for four years, traveled a bunch, so I don’t mind the smell. I think it’s the idea of addiction that scares me.” Your confession hangs in the open air. “You can add that to the list instead.”

Mattsun takes his time to respond, considers whether he should at all. He observes you from the side: the pout of your near frown, the white of your teeth when you chew at your bottom lip, the crease between your brows when you face him and say it’s his turn again.

And he keeps his eyes on you when he tells you, “I’ve never kissed someone.” And before you can ask him Why? only for him to tell you There’s no follow up questions, and before he can ask himself What the fuck am I saying to this girl I barely know?, he tells you, “I mean, I’ve kissed people, obviously, but not for any reason that’s particularly romantic. Just sex, and…everything adjacent to it.”

You chew on his words for a moment and he thinks he could throw up.

“You can add that to the list now,” he adds, filling the silence.

He feels a lot closer to you now, physically, with your shoulders and hips almost joining together and your noses no more than six inches apart when you face each other. You still want to ask him Why? even though you’re sure he’ll snap the moratorium on follow up questions back on you. Maybe confessions like this tie a rope around two people and tug.

“I don’t think I have either.” Absentmindedly, you lift two fingers to your lips. “It’s funny that you mention it.”

“Why?”

“To the first part, or the second?”

“The first.”

“I don’t know.” You turn to look at him again and he’s already waiting halfway. “I mean, I’ve had a boyfriend before, kind of, but it was never really…”

“Romantic?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, “He was a dick.”

“That sucks.”

“Thanks. How about you?”

“I fucked around a bit in years past. Didn’t really settle or do relationships or anything romantic.”

“I’m sorry.” Yet all you can think about is how you’re sinking deeper into this pit, a boy who doesn’t do relationships.

“It’s alright.”

“Things can always change, you know.” You look back at him, not knowing whether the comment was for his reassurance or your own, and something has changed in the way he looks at you. He isn’t looking just to look anymore, but to listen, as if he can read something from your expression.

“You think so?” he asks, a hopeful lilt in his voice. He doubts whether he really knows himself.

You can't seem to peel your eyes away from his when you only hum a confirmation. Breaths exchanged between you turn white in the cold nighttime air, and you draw closer together for warmth, noses almost touching. Something in your gut tells you this isn’t normal, to be this close, and something in the back of his mind tells him that he’s more than okay with it.

He smiles something different, something of admiration instead of mirth. “This got very personal.”

“It did.” You look at his lips.

“I don’t even know you.”

“No, but you could.”

He smiles back at you, his eyes trailing to your lips in turn. “I could.”

“And it’s helping me make your list, so it’s okay.”

“This is true,” he agrees, “Though I’m a little nervous to ask what you’ve been extrapolating.”

“We can debrief another day, if you’d like.”

He tilts his head, just barely, and each breath into your lungs feels like another pull at his lips to reel him in. “Who said I’m ever going to see you again?”

Your eyes dance between his lips, curled in a way you crave to taste, and his eyes, glazed over with what can only be called desire. “I did, just now.” You give in to his movements closing the marginal gap between you, a hair’s breadth from what you’ve been pining for.

“I know I didn’t say this before, but you can call me Issei,” he murmurs against your lips.

“I thought you said most people call you Mattsun?”

“That I did.”

“Am I not most people, then?” You smirk and you think you’ve caught him.

“Hmm…” he starts, bringing a hand to brush up the column of your neck, grasping your jaw in his hand ever so gently, his thumb pressing to your bottom lip. “Not too sure about that yet.”

He only lasts, mesmerized, a second longer before he presses his lips to yours. He keeps his kisses short, and he keeps them sweet, and you make the third mental note of the night to search whether nicotine can be transferred through kisses because fuck, something about his smile-ridden lips have you hooked.

You loop your arms around his neck while he looms over you and snakes his free hand from your waist up your back, holding your body oh so close to his that when he nips at your bottom lip you swear your knees start to buckle. It’s innocent, the way Mattsun kisses you, like he’s hungry for nothing more than this—the two of you, on someone’s balcony, asking questions that may very well mean nothing by the next year, kisses for cushioning.

He slips his tongue past your lips, gently, teasing, and you think this is what it feels like to really kiss someone. He wonders if dying right now would really be all that bad if it means having your mouth be the last thing he tastes, your face the last thing he touches.

Until you hear the sound of someone’s “Oh” and you both turn to look where it came from. Your fingertips are still grazing the hair at the nape of Mattsun’s neck, his lips now at your jaw for you’ve turned your head to see the door. He can smell your perfume on your neck and he has to fight the urge to kiss you again.

Hajime stands at the door, eyebrows raised with one foot on the balcony and the other still inside. “Am I interrupting something?”

You pull away from Mattsun’s hands with reluctance, and he tries, hard as he might, to wear his calm demeanor again, itching to have the weight of you tugging on him.

“Nope,” you snip, missing Mattsun’s warmth a little more than you’d like to admit. “What’s up?”

“We’re…” His eyes catch Mattsun’s foot tapping away and your hands fiddling with the railing, Mattsun’s messy hair and your glistening lips. “We’re singing and doing cake now, thought you might wanna join.”

“We’ll be there in a second,” Mattsun says. Is there even a ‘we’?

The two of you stand still, anxiously, as Hajime gives a very brief goodbye—scary, even, he’s so unphased—as he walks away, leaving the door ajar for you to follow.

You turn to Mattsun, almost pleading. “You think he’s gonna say anything?”

“I don’t know, actually.” He runs a hand through his hair and lets his arms fall to his sides. “I don’t think he’d be dying to tell anyone. We should probably go in there, though. Probably the good person thing to do for their birthday.”

“Yeah,” you nod, “Probably.”

You toy with his fingers as he shifts much closer to you again, inches away without either one of you thinking about it. You reach up to his head and he bends down for you, waiting patiently for the strands mussed by your doing to be returned to their rightful place.

“Can’t be giving anyone clues just yet, hm?” you hum, one hand in his hair and the other just barely holding his chin.

Mattsun smiles when you punctuate the question with a peck to his cheek. He doesn’t quite hold your hand, and neither of you know if he even should, but he trails behind you back into the apartment regardless, back into the bustle of the crowd. His fingertips thrum with something he’s never felt. He could follow you like this all night if only you’d let him.

“Hey, Issei?” you ask, pulling him to come a little closer. It’s been less than a minute, and your head is already aching again, your eyes tired.

His ears perk up at the name, and his chest presses lightly into your back before he leans down to hear you better. “Yeah?”

You turn your head towards his without taking your eyes off the crowd in the room ahead, navigating through a place still completely unknown to you. You stop at the doorway, still hidden away from the rest of the group. “Is it really someone’s birthday?”

Issei laughs, heartily for the first time this week, and basks in the way you glow in the mellow light of the party, smiling back at him, sheepishly hitting him while defending yourself in a whisper, “What? I don’t know these people—!” He thinks this—whatever it is, having his hand nearly intertwined with yours, your shoulder blades pushing into his chest, Hajime’s subtle smile and nod of respect from across the room—sure is something.

And he thinks it seems awfully promising.

#haiykuu #haikyuu fluff #matsukawa imagines #matsukawa drabble #mattsun x reader #mattsun fluff #matsukawa issei #mattsun #matsukawa x you #matsukawa x y/n #matsukawa x reader #haikyuu x reader #issei matsukawa #issei x reader #matsukawa fluff

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atsumwah · 2 months

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mattsun's the kind of boyfriend that calls u pretty to calm u down (doesn't matter if he's the one that made you mad or if anyone else did he is your diffuser no matter what)

#—lu rambles #—matsulu #i am weak again 4 this man!#matsukawa issei #hq mattsun #hq matsukawa #haikyuu matsukawa #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa fluff #matsukawa headcanons #mattsun imagines #mattsun headcanons

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rintaroll · 9 months

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❝ INSIDE THE LINES. ❞

— during matsukawa's time babysitting your niece, more than a couple realizations occur to you.

⊱┊pairing. matsukawa issei x gn!reader ⊱┊tags. fluff, established relationship, reader has a 6 year old niece and works at the bakery, food mention, mattsun has a sleeve tattoo :], unedited ⊱┊wc. 1.3k ⊱┊note. cleaning out my drafts hehe this was back when i had my mattsun brain rot (OH btw while writing this he works as a tattoo artist in my mind but i didnt mention it anywhere)

"issei, i'm so sorry-"

"it's fine," matsukawa waves his hand dismissively. his eyes flicker to the clock on the wall. "when are you coming home?"

"soon. i just have to frost the cupcakes and wait for the customer to pick them up." you pan your phone to the chocolate cupcakes, fresh out of the oven and still steaming hot.

"those look really good, babe." matsukawa muses.

you hear a small voice squealing from behind the camera. "i wanna see!"

your boyfriend chuckles, eyes trained on your niece, himeko, whose ears have perked up at the word 'cupcakes'. the six-year-old scrambles onto the sofa, comfortably nestling herself into matsukawa's side. her eyes widen when she finally sees the cupcakes in all their chocolatey goodness. "yummy..." she says, eyes boring into matsukawa's phone screen, unblinking and shiny.

you pan your phone back to your face. "they're not for you!" you remind her.

"i know!" himeko sighs dramatically, strands of hair falling onto her face. mattsun effortlessly brushes it back. "i have to wait for tomorrow so we can make them together."

"yes, that's right." you nod in approval.

"why can't it be tomorrow already?" she pouts. mattsun doesn't realize, but your eyes are trained on him while he stares at your niece while adorning an amused smile.

"hm," you ponder. "maybe if you sleep early tonight, then tomorrow will come earlier?" a sly grin forms on your lips.

himeko narrows her eyes at you. "that's not gonna work on me!"

you shrug. "worth a try."

matsukawa snickers at your failed attempt to trick her. "smart girl," he praises her before raising one of his hands, which is met with a high five from himeko. your niece then proceeds to stick her tongue out at you.

you shake your head, but there's a smile on your lips despite you doing so. she might as well steal your boyfriend at this point, you think to yourself.

you can almost remember the good times—when himeko was four and hiding behind your legs, while matsukawa was crouching in front of you. she was terrified, little hands gripping onto your pants. she told you he looked like a gangster, with all the tattoos covering the entirety of his right arm. "what if he kidnaps me?" she wailed once he leaves, to which you comfort her by saying that he won't. from her skeptic expression and her glassy eyes, it was safe to say that she was far from convinced.

and yet now here you are. with your boyfriend and your niece in cahoots, conspiring together to overthrow you someday.

"anyways, i was calling because she wanted me to tell you she finished her coloring book, isn't that right, hime?"

halfway through his words, himeko lets out an 'oh!' and jumps up from the couch. she picks up her coloring book off the floor, where it was surrounded by an assortment of colored pencils and markers in disarray. flipping to the last page, she proudly shows off her latest piece of work. "look!"

you gasp, genuinely admiring the effort she's put into coloring in the drawing of a fish. considering how she's just turned six, she's done a wonderful job in coloring inside the lines. "that looks so nice! did you do that all by yourself?"

"yep!" she chirps, nodding excitedly before stopping to ponder for a moment. "hm... i guess, uncle mattsun did help me color the amenomies..."

"anemones," matsukawa stage whispers.

"right, amenemones."

you and matsukawa bite back your laughs. "it looks really good, himeko," you comment, still smiling.

himeko nods absentmindedly. it becomes obvious to both you and matsukawa that her attention is not on either of you anymore. she goes out of frame as she continues to flip through her coloring book and zeroes in on her work, leaving matsukawa the only one left in view of the camera.

your eyes flit to the top of your phone screen, clicking your tongue when you read the time. "alright, i better go and start frosting. the customer will be here soon. bye, himeko! bye, baby."

matsukawa's heart flutters helplessly. he will never get tired of you calling him that. "see you," your boyfriend beams. although still engrossed by her coloring book, you hear your niece mumble a soft 'bye' right before the call ends.

pocketing his phone, matsukawa turns his focus back on himeko only to find her tiny lips curled into a frown. "something wrong, sweets?"

she looks up, with her brows all scrunched up. matsukawa feels his heart melt at the sight. "i'm out of pages. what will i color now?"

"i'll buy you another one tomorrow, okay?" he pokes her nose.

with a giggle, she scrunches her nose in effect. "okay."

an idea spontaneously strikes matsukawa. it might be one of the best ideas he's had in a while—the realization that himeko brings out his creative side more often than not quickly becomes an afterthought.

"actually, hime..."

her ears perk up, big eyes staring up at him. those big, doe eyes he has not learned how to say no to.

"i know something else you can color."

matsukawa was sure he saw himeko visibly light up when he offers his tattooed arm. he doesn't need to tell her twice. she expeditiously collects her markers off the ground—she's big enough to know that pencil colors won't be able to color in your skin!—and spreads them out on the sofa next to where both of them sit.

snuggled into his side, matsukawa has his tattooed arm around her as himeko starts to color in the tattoos from the ones on his forearm. "i'll make sure your arm looks extra pretty!" she exclaims excitedly.

"can you make it look as pretty as you are?"

himeko tilts her head to the side as she thinks of an answer. "hm... maybe. i'll try." the earnestness in her answer makes matsukawa chuckle.

as himeko continues, her inquiries about his sleeve don't stop. did it hurt? (just a little bit.) what's the meaning behind this one? (there's no meaning to that one. this one, however...) are you gonna get a tattoo of y/n? (i already did.) can i get one too? (matsukawa laughs awkwardly when he hears the last question, immediately changing the topic by asking her what her favorite color is. he doesn't want to get into trouble.)

the conversations tone down when himeko makes it halfway through matsukawa's forearm. he knows himeko turns quiet once she's focused. it's only when matsukawa feels her marker slip that he realizes that she has nodded off. making as little movement as possible, he closes the cap on the red marker that she was holding and puts it aside.

half an hour later, you tip-toe into your living room with the intention to surprise your boyfriend and your niece at heart. as you get closer, suspicions start to arise when you realize that it's awfully quiet.

wait, are they-

oh.

they are.

your heart blooms at the precious sight of matsukawa and himeko fast asleep on the couch. matsukawa's head is lolled back on the back of the sofa, his arms around himeko as she is curled up into his side. they look so comfortable and peaceful, soft snores coming out of the both of them with hideko's head rising up and down along with matsukawa's chest with every breath that he takes.

you just finished snapping a quick picture when realization sets in.

and no, it's not about how matsukawa has successfully won her over for good—that realization has set in a long time ago.

but it's realizing that you want to spend the rest of your life coming home to this sight. him dozing off on the sofa, waiting for you to come home, and maybe a child, or two, of your own curled up next to him.

vocabulary !

himeko is written like so: 姫子 in kanji. 姫 (hime) means princess, while 子 (ko) means child. mattsun's nickname for her is hime, which essentially means he calls her 'princess'.

#haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #matsukawa issei #mattsun #mattsun fluff #matsukawa fluff #matsukawa issei fluff #haikyuu fic #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu mattsun #mattsun x you #mattsun x reader #kiawrites

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lilsocksiswriting · 4 months

Text

Paring: Issei Matsukawa X Fem!Reader

Summary: Matsukawa fingers you in a car and clues you in on his plans

Warnings: NSFW, no beta reader, Minors DNI

Tags: fingering, car sex, cheating

Word Count: 1.8K

Table of Contents

Chapter Two || Chapter Four

When you awake it is past noon, but not too late. Your mom still lays a hand flat on her chest and gasps when she sees you come downstairs,” Why oh my stars look who has come to grace us with her presence.”

“Late night studying,“ You tell her then ask, ”Do you mind if I borrow the car? The twins want to meet up for coffee .”

She frowns and you already know what that means.

“I can take ya,” Matsukawa peeks out from the kitchen.

Your mom speaks over you, “ Are you sure?”

“Oh yeah, Y/S/N is out with her friends anyway, so I don't have much going on.”

“Wonderful! Then we can swing by and pick you up later for gift shopping!”

Oh, right. Gift shopping. You had to pick up that photography book for Dad you ordered from the bookstore and still find something for your sister. You were really just trying to mentally block out all the family time you had to spend together at this point.

“Great then. I’ll go get ready.”

You rush back upstairs to get showered and get dressed. You put a little more effort into dressing up just because you get to be alone in a car with Matsukawa. You pair your favorite docs with a dark pair of pantyhose, a turtleneck, and a jeans overall dress with some embroidered flowers on it.

“Oh, you look nice,” your mom comments when you come back downstairs with your bookbag. “Are you sure that this is just coffee with twins?”

“Yes, I’m just helping them not fail trig,” you roll your eyes.

Matsukawa held his tongue about what he thought of you until you two were in the car.

“You do look really pretty today .”

“Thanks.” You say smiling shyly and playing with the strap of your seatbelt.

“But” he goes on to add, “Nothing beats that pretty sight of you last night.”

“Last night?” you giggle, “What about in the morning too? Did, you lose track of time when you were down there?”

With one hand remaining on the wheel Matsukawa puts his other hand on your exposed thigh and oh wow, look at that, his hand nearly covers your whole thigh. He gives it a firm squeeze that makes your stomach do a little flip. Swoon-worthy, panty-wetting behavior

He keeps his hand there as he turns down a street that will make it take longer to get to the coffee shop you had punched into the GPS. You don’t mind though. The twins will understand, and they’ll have questions, but they won’t be mad if you have ten or so minutes late.

He hums,” I guess you’re right. I got so lost in that perfect pussy of yours last night. I could probably spend days down there and not even realize it.”

“Oh, shut up,” you feel your cheeks grow hot and bite back a bigger smile.

“You really want me to shut up talking about how much I loved last night?”

Matsukawa’s hand creeps further up your thigh, his finger teasing the end of your dress. Your breath hitches and you look over to your sister’s boyfriend. His eyes were still on the road but there was that lazy smirk plastered across his face. A warmth bursts in your tummy and seeps down to your core.

You too return your eyes to the raid. Since Matsukawa had chosen to take the scenic route he was now driving down a long stretch of road sounded by snow-covered evergreens.

“Ok, no not really. Not when you put it like that.”

You shiver feeling Matsukawa’s thumbs stroke your thinly covered skin just under your dress.

“Good, because you’ve got me addicted, pretty girl.”

Oh god, there was that nickname again that makes you wetter. You practically squeal in excitement as his hand slips between your thighs.

“So….that your hand’s inching toward my pussy?”

In a brave move, you sink a little in your seat and spread your legs for him. Matsukawa’s eyes flick to you slumped in your seat waiting for him to touch you again, then back to the road

“Fuck pretty girl, you’re so lewd and shameless and I love it. bet you already wet huh?”

You were but you urge him, “Why don’t don’t you go and see?”

“But I got to keep my eyes on the road, pretty girl.”

You place your hand over his and ask, ”You want me to show you them?”

“Fuck, please.”

So you do. Swept up in the attention you’re getting from your older sister’s boyfriend and wanting to feel his touch again, you guide Matsukawa’s hand to your core and push his fingers firmly against it through your pantyhose and underwear. A tiny moan escapes you at the pressure. You ask yourself why you bother with underwater.

Matsukawa swallows. He can already feel his cock stirring in his pants.

“Good girl, you wanna use my hand to get off?”

You nod eagerly and begin rutting your hips against his fingers that you keep firmly pressed against you. Matsukawa carefully shifts in his seat. His dick was now fully hard and straining against his jeans

“O-oh fuck,” you breathe.

“Feels good pretty girl?”

You nod, pressings his fingers hard against your clit.

“Fuck, you are getting soaked pretty girl aren't you?”, he coos, and sure enough when he glances over there a damp spot forming over the crotch of your pantyhose.

“I-I need more though. It’s not enough,” you pout. The friction was great and wonderful, but you were so greedy when it came to him. Feeling him over your clothes wasn’t going to cut it. you needed to feel Matsukawa's bare fingers rubbing those perfect circles over your slick clit again. you want to feel his thick fingers stretch your cunt out.

“That so?” Matsukawa wants to give you more. He’ll give you whatever you want as long as you ask nicely.

And he doesn’t even have to tell you that. You began to plead, “Pleeeeease, wanna feel your fingers stuffing me like they did last night? Please make me feel cum hard again Issei.”

Said the man pulling his hand away. He lets out a Shakey breath. God, you make him so hard like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Matsukawa quickly pulls over to the shoulder of the road.

“Ok then, pull’em down for me pretty girl, he instructs and is surprised at how fast you wiggle your cute little ass out of that pantyhose and pull them down to your docs along with your underwear.

“Like this?” you ask sinking further down in your seat and spreading your legs for him.

The dark-haired man balanced and arm on the center console so he can lean over it and slide his finger along the wet lips of your pussy.

“C-cold!” you jump.

“Sorry pretty girl, give it a minute. You so hot here it’ll will warm them right up.”

Any argument that you had about his icey finger turned into a moan. Matsukawa gathers up more of your wetness between his index and middle fingers before shoving them inside you. The action has such a force behind it your whole body jolts.

“Fuuuuck,” your whine turns into a sob.

Matsukawa, that devil, doesn’t give you any kind of forewarning or warm-up before he goes straight to drilling his finger into you. The ‘schlickschlickschlick’ sound of his fingers rutting into you fills the car along with the heat of your tow’s labored breaths. You weakly grip at his wrist. It’s all so much. Eventually, all you can do is grab at anything you can and hold on for dear life. His two thick fingers going deep and the heel of his palm rubbing against your clit.

“Fuuuck , I- Issei,” you hiccup, eye wide as you stare at his glistening fingers fucking in and out of you,” It’s so much,i-ah~ please please.”

“Yea? Keep it up pretty girl. Tell me how good I’m making you feel.”

“S-so good m holy shit Issei!” you cry, eyes rolling back and head thumping against the car door.

Matsukawa groans feeling you clenching around his fingers. You thrash about like you couldn’t handle the way the orgasm he’s brought you to. he is loving it.

As you calm down heaving for breath Matsukawa slips his fingers out of you and sits back in his seat, puts the car back in drive, and goes on as if not a thing happened.

“So was that enough for ya?”

You don't trust yourself to speak just yet so you just nod and go about pulling up your pantyhose and settling back down. You soothe your hair and pull down your dress that had ridden up past your hips.

As Matsukawa, drives into town you ask,” Do you feel bad about this?”

“Do you?”

You look out the windows and play with the strap of your seatbelt again. “To be honest, nah not really.”

“Then neither do I,” he shrugs.

“But your girlfriend is my sister.”

“And I wanan to break up with my girlfriend.”

“Then why not do that ?”

Matsukawa chuckles a littel, “She’s your sister so you tell me.”

A frown sours your face. No one breaks up with Y/S/N. And because of that, you start to wonder if you two had similar devious plans. “Are you trying to get her to break up with you by using me?”

“Well I prefer to put it as benign a total sleaze bag-”

“I’m in.”

Matsukawa stops at a red light and turns his head to face you. You look back at him with a completely serious face.

“I’m tired of being treated like a child and I’m tired of being the laughing stock of this family,” you explain, “If getting caught sleeping with my older sister's hot boyfriend will change that perception, then I’m in.”

Matsukawa, smirks,”You think I’m hot?”

You settle back in your seat,” The light’s green hot stuff.”

You end up getting dropped off at the coffee shop 20 minutes late, but the twins aren’t curious as to why you’re late.

“Was that Matsukawa in the driver’s seat?” Atsumu asks upon you sitting down at the table.

“It was.”

“And the bitch is ok with him being your littel chauffeur?” Osamu asks.

You pull out your trigonometry textbook and a notebook from your bag. ”probably not.”

“She doesn't know?”

“She doesn't know a lot of things,” you open your textbook only to have it shut by the blond twin.

“What does that mean?” he demands.

You smile, not feeling at all bad for being caught so easily.

“Holy shit you gorgeous, amazing homewrecker. Oh, You have to tell us everything, we’re gonna need to have updates. Stats, “ Atsumms smiles wide,” this is the best Christmas ever. Can you imagine when your sister finds out?”

“We have to tell the group chat,” Osamu is already swiping open his phone.

You put a hand over his phone screen,” After your homework.”

The twins groan, leaving it to the theme to be so excited that their manager is sleeping around with her older sister’s boyfriend. You hope the rest of your friends will have similar reactions.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu smut #haikyuu!!#privet stacks #mattsukawa x reader #matsukawa issei #mattsun

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mattsunism · 2 years

Text

just some work antics with the one and only matsukawa issei. (nsfw)

you sigh with mock disappointment, one leg swinging over to straddle the tall curly-haired man. you can feel his cock straining through his slacks, and the heat in your stomach grows as you think about how you manage to take it every time.

you try to maintain your composure, as your desire to embarrass the man was stronger than how horny you were.

“i can’t believe you got a hard on right before the wake. you got a kink you’re not telling me about, issei?”

“shut up. why’d you have to wear this dress?”

matsukawa grumbled annoyedly, turning his head to look out the window. his hands didn’t seem too affected, however, as they continued to make their way up your dress, making sure to caress every inch of skin as they did.

the feeling of all the fabric being bunched up at your waist rubbed you the wrong way so you opened your mouth to complain, but all that escaped was a breathy moan as matsukawa’s thumb brushed against your clit through the fabric of your panties.

fuck. you’re soaked. he lets out a low groan as well, and he shifts in the seat under you in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure.

“fucking hell, a thong? you’ll be the end of me.”

matsukawa’s too focused on drinking in the sight in front of him, as he would’ve normally quipped back something just as witty. normally. but the situation the two of you were in was nothing near normal.

one of his hands is at your waist, holding you up, while the other is on his dick, his tip lined up with your aching pussy.

he rubs his swollen tip against your folds, relishing in the way they squelch lewdly at the contact. the view is so hot (minus the fact that he has a fucking glow-in-the-dark condom on, thanks to the gift hanamaki had gotten him as a joke for christmas) that he swears he could just cum right then and there, but wills himself to hold back.

“fuck, look how wet you are, hm?” his voice is raspy from lust, and you whimper lowly at how good the words sound falling from his lips.

you think you’ll lose your mind at how matsukawa’s teasing your aching hole, so you drop your hips down. but as if he’d read your mind, matsukawa snaps his own hips up so that he’s fully buried in you, his balls slapping against your ass with a sound that’s almost pornhub worthy. he curses at the feeling of your tight pussy wrapping around him so tightly while you shudder at how he fills you up, and you can’t help but ball your fists, nails digging into your palms.

“nasty-looking smile you got on, eh mattsun?” you breathe out, enjoying the effect you have on the handsome man (something that you’d never admit out loud - after all, you don’t need his ego inflating any more than it already is).

“it’s cus you look good like this,” matsukawa murmurs, a pussy-drunk smirk on his face. his free hand comes up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and travels down your face to your lips. his thumb brushes your bottom lip gently, the pad of his finger rising ever-so-slightly to rest in between your lips.

it’s like second nature to you, considering how many times the two of you’ve done this before. you part your lips, letting him to do as he pleases. his thumb slides into your mouth, your tongue welcoming him as you wrap your lips around him and suck lightly. this always manages to turn you on even more, and you can’t help but hope that he fucks you so hard that you’re stumbling for the rest of your shift.

but your hips are moving in time with his, matching his slow thrusts, and you feel yourself growing frustrated at how it just wasn’t enough. you want more, and you begin to grind down, desperate for him to hit that sweet spot that you love so much.

“i wish this fucking dress wasn’t on you. wanna see your tits so bad,” matsukawa groans, his eyes eyeing them through the fabric.

you pull his thumb out of your mouth, annoyed at how much he’s been talking. after all, you guys only had ten minutes, max, before the boss would notice that he two of you were missing.

“why can’t you just shut up and fuck me like you mean it?”

matsukawa raises an eyebrow in disbelief at your words, scoffing slightly.

“sorry princess,” he drawls, his now-free hand coming down to your waist.

“i’ll do that” - he grips you, tight, before thrusting into you harshly, eliciting a moan from you - “right now.”

he spreads his thighs (as wide as he can in your small ass car) to give him more room, and snaps his hips up to fuck into you.

he’s practically manhandling you now, lifting you up by the waist and then slamming you down onto his cock, bouncing you up and down on his length as if you were nothing more than a paper doll.

you feel like your brain is melting at how good you’re feeling, and allow your head to lean forward and rest on matsukawa’s shoulder, too fucked out to have the energy to keep it up.

you’re moaning and mumbling incoherent curses into matsukawa’s ear, and the latter shivers at the stimulation. he feels your pussy clench, and knows that you’re on the brink of cumming, so he stops.

he just fucking stops.

with what little energy you have, you force yourself to raise your head and look at the curly-haired man with furrowed eyebrows, only to find that he’s staring back at you with equally furrowed eyebrows paired with a shit-eating grin.

“sorry, i’m not really in the mood anymore. probably cause i can’t fuck you like i mean it, huh? i’ll just get myself off in the bathroom, so why don’t you just find someone else?”

he pushes the car door open before sliding out from under you, pulling up the zipper on his pants.

you’re too stunned to even pull down your dress, mouth gaping open as if a fish out of water. your eyes go down to the very prominent outline in his pants, before meeting his eyes again.

“what the fuck?” you rasp out, still reeling from the feeling of his cock.

he’s standing right in front of you, wedged in between you and the car door so that you can’t be exposed to any prying eyes, his arms folded across his chest.

“actually, why don’t just get yourself off right now? after all, little baby can’t function unless she cums, right? cmon, why don’t you give me a show as an apology?”

maybe it’s cause his words were true, or maybe you were just too turned on by his words to refute him, but you nod dumbly, before you let a hand drop to rub at your puffy clit.

you refuse to break eye-contact, so you stare into his dark eyes as you make a mess out of your clit, your other hand following to stuff two fingers into your wet cunt.

it’s torture for matsukawa, just watching you, but some sick side of him is reveling in the hold he has over your usually prideful self. in fact, that was the only thing holding him back from giving in and diving back into the back seat to fuck the living daylights out of you.

“want you, issei,” you gasp, your hips bucking forward, desperate to have his thick dick back in your dripping pussy. “it’s not as good.”

“cmon, you can add a third. you can cum with that,” he coos, suddenly turning sweet.

you do as he says and tremble slightly at the added stimulation, although it was nothing compared to what you had before. you’re embarrassed at how loud your pussy is, and you whimper at the feeling of your slick dripping out of your cunt and down to your ass. but he’s right, and maybe it’s the way he’s staring so adoringly at you, but you soon feel your orgasm crashing over you, and you tremble at how hard it racks through your body, relishing in the fact that matsukawa’s watching the whole thing.

your cheeks are flushed and your hair is messy, but he swears you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid his eyes on. every hookup in college, every relationship, they’re all nothing compared to you - and you’re not even his.

it’s embarrassing to admit, but he cums in his pants without even having to touch his dick, his knees weak at how your lips part and your thighs tremble as you ride out your high, your fingers rubbing at the bundle of nerves mercilessly, just like how issei always does it.

“fuck,” he groans, and he practically jumps you, slamming the door shut behind him. he kisses you roughly, and you welcome him with open arms, looping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. he ignores the buzzing of his phone in his back pocket and pulls out another condom from his back pocket (yes, another glow-in-the-dark condom), breaking the kiss momentarily to rip the packet with his teeth.

i will never shit on these condoms again, mattsun thinks with a content sigh, mentally thanking hanamaki before allowing his lips to find home on yours.

for those who are asking the REAL questions, no... they did not get fired. mattsun did have to stay at home for 3 days faking the flu just so the two of you could solidify your story that you left work to rush mattsun to the hospital.

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miya-rin · 1 year

Text

matsukawa knew that he liked you.

he didn’t know what it was, but something about you had just always drawn him towards you.

maybe it was the fact that you always understood his jokes and laughed when no one else did, maybe because you always remembered the little parts in stories he told you and linked them to the ones he more recently told, or maybe it was the way you always went along with his little routines.

and by routines, he means how how excited he would be every morning when he would walk into class to see you sitting down with all your equipment laid out neatly, and how every morning he would place both hands over your eyes before getting closer to your ear and saying “guess who?” to be met with “oh i have no idea, mattsun maybe?”

except for this morning, because today you are nowhere to be seen.

this worries matsukawa a little more than he would like to admit. you are always one of the first people in class so where are you?

“they’re probably just a little late.” he tells himself, sitting down in the seat next to yours as he always does after your greetings to each other. but 10 minutes fly by and you still aren’t in class yet. he’s more than worried now.

are you lost? are you just helping someone to their class? did something happen to you on the way to school? did you move class because you didn’t want to be desk mates with him anymore???

while he is going through all the different possibilities of why you aren’t next to him, his ideas are cut short as a pair of hands smoothly slide over his eyes, he starts to feel faint breath fanning over his neck as a small “guess who?” is said by a very familiar voice.

you’re here.

even though he doesn’t say anything you can tell how excited he is by the very wide smile plastered across his face. he’s so cute.

“where were you? i was so worried.”

“careful now issei, you might make me think you actually like me,” he does. “my mum’s car broke down and i had to walk, i underestimated how long it would take me to get here.”

“you never were the brightest were you?”

“and yet you were soo worried for me.” the smug smile on your face is enough to bring his back, he’s glad you’re sat with him again.

matsukawa knew that he liked you. and he knew that it was something he would never be able to understand, but he’s fine with that, as long as you were with him in some way he would be happy.

#lav.posts♡#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq imagines #haikyuu imagines #hq x you #haikyuu fluff #matsukawa issei #hq matsukawa #hq mattsun #matsukawa #matsukawa oneshot #matsukawa scenarios #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa drabble #matsukawa imagines #matsukawa x y/n #haikyuu matsukawa

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zmbiesuga · 1 year

Text

I'VE LOVED EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU THAT HURTS

matsukawa issei x m!reader (pronouns aren't mentioned but the intention is still there), established relationship

warnings: angst, really poor body image on mattsuns part including negative mentions of weight, hurt/comfort, cussing, use of pet names (baby, honey, pretty boy), matsukawa is referred to as mattsun and issei, the friends mentioned are not the seijoh four

notes: i projected a bit oops

mattsun had lost track of time. all he knew was that the light illuminating from his laptop hurt his bloodshot eyes, and if the soft sounds from it weren't the only thing keeping him sane, he would slam it shut in a heartbeat.

he doesn't know how he ended up in this position, really. he's not typically a sensitive guy, he's normally nonchalant, laid back. he walks the world like nothing can hurt him.

but then he thinks about what his friends said.

it was playful, at first. little jabs at his personality that he could rebuttal with ease. teasing them about their flaws, adamant on avoiding striking any nerves.

he just wished they would be as careful as him.

what got to him first, was the mention of his eyebrows. how they were too thick, that they didn't match his face.

which then led to the conversation about his jawline, how it was too triangular, too uneven.

and even though those comments hurt, he took them and bit his tongue. for his own sake. just shake it off, he thought, they're just joking stop being such a fucking baby

it was fine, really.

until they started talking about his weight. how he was too skinny, too tall, too boney. how almost nauseating it was that they could see how his ribs poked through his skin.

yeah, that's what got him.

from practice to home was a blur to him, but he remembers how he stormed to his room. how he sat in his own silence for a moment or so, before his body racked with violent sobs.

he cried. he cried until there was no more air in his lungs, until the sobs got caught in his throat. he gripped his hair and broke down for what felt like an eternity.

and even now, hours later, the thought of everything that happened makes him want to start sobbing again.

but he can't. the lump in his throat sticks there, not daring to move.

he really thinks he's fucking pathetic. to let such words get to him, he knows he shouldn't care. he knows they meant no harm. he knows they were just jokes. he knows he's not that bad looking.

right?

well, he guesses there must be some truth to their words if they poked and prodded at it. he guesses there's some truth if he's allowing himself to be this affected by it.

he doesn't hear you softly open the door to his bedroom.

you had grown worried, you tried to contact him over dozens of times within the past few hours, only to be left on delivered.

at first you were mad, you figured he was just ignoring you for makki or something unimportant, but once oikawa had told you that issei had left the gym in a sulk, you had just grown to be worried.

you slowly made your way towards him, the soft blue glow of his laptop being the only source of light in the room.

when you tripped over his sneakers is when he finally noticed you.

slowly, he turned from his laptop to face you. the cacoon of his blanket covering most of him. that's when you finally got a good look at his face.

his eyes were bloodshot, and his tears from earlier left stains of trails down his cheeks. the dried snot under his nose, his tussled hair and cracked lips showing his distress.

god, you swear, even like this he looks so beautiful.

"issei, baby, what's wrong?" you question, crouching down next to his bed. you reach your hand out, lightly stroking his face.

tears slowly begin to fall from his eyes again. you wipe them away gently with his thumbs.

the gesture alone sends him into another fit of sobs, you wrap your arms around him, rubbing circles on his back as you let him weep into the crook of your neck.

"i can't fucking . . . i'm so pathetic i'm sorry . . ." he blubbers, god he can't believe himself right now.

"nonono baby you aren't pathetic, you're allowed to cry. you're allowed to be upset," you reassure him, "take your time. i'm not going anywhere."

you two stay like that for a few minutes, issei composes himself the best to his ability, before sitting up and letting what happened fall from his lips in a hurry.

your face contorts in anger as he continues, not with him, of course. you couldn't believe what he was saying, what kind of friends were these people?

once he finished, you allowed yourself to speak.

"issei," you began, "what they said about you was absolutely ridiculous."

at first he's taken aback by your words, but then you continue,

"you are one of the most gorgeous boys i have ever laid my eyes on," you said, "your eyebrows aren't too thick, they fit your face perfectly. your jawline is perfect too, and even if it is asymmetrical, most peoples are. it's not uncommon and it certainly does not make you ugly."

you take a deep breath, cupping his hands in yours. giving him a reassuring squeeze before picking up again once more,

"and as for your weight," you began, "i just . . . the fact that they even felt the need to comment on that disgusts me. there is nothing wrong with your weight, as long as you are healthy that's all that matters. whether you be on the bigger or smaller side, as long as you are healthy that's all that should matter. ever. don't listen to the utter bullshit they spew because it's not true. you're a beautiful boy, you're my beautiful boy."

he starts crying again, but this time out of a warm feeling bursting in his chest. he pulls you in for a tight embrace, and you squeeze him just as hard.

"i love you so much." are the only words he's able to mutter before he falls asleep on your shoulders.

you then softly close the lid to his laptop, crawling under the covers with him and placing a kiss on his forehead.

sleep well, pretty boy. is all you can think before drifting off yourself

a/n: i just want to remind you guys that you are beautiful no matter what and you deserve good things. likes, reblogs & comments are appreciated!

#haikyuu #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa x male reader #haikyuu x male reader #mattsun x reader #mattsun x male reader #matsukawa angst #matsukawa hurt/comfort #haikyuu x reader #matsukawa issei x reader #matsukawa x you #matsukawa imagines #matsukawa oneshot #love letters from leo #my dearest haikyuu

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cnnmairoll · 11 months

Text

Butterfly Bonds

Pairing : Matsukawa Issei x Reader Note : Another rewrite from one of my old fics, but I add more to it! You can find the old version here. I don't exactly do any major changes but more of the way I write it!

"What's in your hands, sweetheart?" Matsukawa asked as you set down the packages you received from the mailman today. "Oh, just a bunch of stuff I bought online. Care to help me out?" you grinned. Being addicted to online shopping, you couldn't resist buying not only for yourself but also for Issei.

Issei sighed at your little addiction but still walked over to grab a pen knife from the drawer. You settled all your packages on the floor and started organizing which ones to open first.

"You're going for the big ones first?" he asked. "Mhm! Just be careful with this one; it's really fragile." Today's mail contained six packages, and one of them was a gift for Issei.

The first package was a glass water jug dispenser. You wanted to spruce up your apartment by changing some furniture and making it look prettier and cleaner. After Matsukawa managed to open all the cardboards and bubble wrap, he carefully pulled out the dispenser along with a plastic bag containing its accessories.

"There should be a stand for the dispenser… Ah! It's stuck in the box," you said, flipping the box to the other side to try opening it, but it wouldn't budge. As you attempted to open one end, Matsukawa suddenly noticed, "Wait, Y/N—" but it was too late. You cut your finger on the cardboard.

It was a somewhat deep cut, and it started bleeding. "Ah, shit! Hold on, let me get you some bandages," Matsukawa said, rushing to a drawer and returning with a first aid kit. "Here, show me your finger," he said, gently taking your hand and examining the cut.

"Seii, it stings," you whined as Matsukawa carefully wrapped the bandage around your finger. Once it was done, he set aside the first aid kit and the troublesome box. "We'll come back to that later. I'll open the other packages for you."

So you sat there, watching Matsukawa open the packages one by one. There was a mug, a figurine, jewelry, and some books. There was one tiny package left, and you decided to open it yourself.

Meanwhile, Matsukawa cleaned up the mess you both made and disposed of all the packaging supplies. You pulled out two matching silver rings, one with a butterfly on top and the other a ring band with a hole shaped like a butterfly.

"That looks pretty, baby," Issei commented as he returned from cleaning up. "This one's for you, so we can match!" you grinned, holding out one of the rings. Issei smiled back at you and put the ring on his finger. "Thank you, sweetheart," he said, kissing your temple.

As you both sat there, admiring the matching rings on your fingers, a mischievous glint appeared in Matsukawa's eyes. He leaned closer to you, whispering, "You know, there's one more surprise I have for you." Curiosity piqued, you tilted your head, urging him to continue.

Matsukawa reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. With a playful smile, he opened it, revealing a delicate necklace adorned with a silver butterfly pendant. Your eyes widened in delight, and Issei's grin mirrored yours.

"For the butterfly who brings light and joy to my life," Matsukawa said softly, placing the necklace around your neck. You could feel the weight of the pendant against your chest, and it served as a constant reminder of Matsukawa's love and thoughtfulness.

Touched by his gesture, you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with love. The two of you shared a moment, basking in the warmth of your connection and the joy that radiated between you.

As the evening continued, you all settled down on the couch, snuggled up together. Matsukawa had brought out a fluffy blanket, and wrapped it around the two of you, creating a cozy nest. With contented smiles on your faces, you began to discuss future plans and dream about the adventures that lay ahead.

The room was filled with laughter, whispers, and the soothing sound of each other's heartbeat. In that moment, you knew that no matter what challenges life threw your way, as long as you had each other, you could conquer anything.

And so, in the warmth of that embrace, you drifted off into a peaceful sleep, knowing that tomorrow would bring new joys, new surprises, and a love that would continue to blossom like butterflies taking flight in the summer breeze.

#˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ mai writes #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fluff #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa #matsukawa issei #mattsun x reader #matsukawa issei x reader #issei matsukawa #issei matsukawa x reader #haikyuu mattsun #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines

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hxltic · 2 years

Text

YOU FEEL BETTER? MATSUKAWA ISSEI

• genre: smut (with a wee bit of angst for plot)

• warnings: penetration, mirror sex, cheating (not mattsun), size kink, choking, use of good girl, slight dumbification, female reader, stretch marks reader, body image difficulties mentioned

some fluff there too and it’s kinda long

🎶 ALL MINE by Brent Faiyaz when reader goes outside for better feels

You never thought you’d see the day Oikawa cheats on you. In front of hundreds, maybe even thousands of people, but he got what he finally wanted for himself and his team for years.

You worked a ton, trying to care for your hospitalized father. You got the tickets to the National game with whatever leftover money you had and a little help from the rest of the team. You were there at all the gatherings, get-togethers; anything you could to make up for your lack of presence at games, but they were so expensive and you’ll be damned if you ask the team for money to pitch in frequently.

Needless to say, you appeared as the captain’s girlfriend, close to being fiancé. You’d been right there since the first team sleepovers, right by his side the whole time. Now he was getting the well deserved credit as captain he deserved from his team, his fans, and you.

You were his own little surprise for nationals. You planned a dinner with everyone there but Oikawa, not wanting to ruin the surprise. Iwaizumi pitched in the most, his excuse being he just had money to spare (even though you know he’s like a big brother and would take care of you until the end of time), but you thanked everyone graciously.

To scale back a bit, you grew up with Mattsun and Makki. They where inseparable, and once you got attached to Mattsun, Makki was the last of the package. Matsukawa had no boundaries at all. Coming in while you were obviously changing in the bathroom, body slamming you on the bed, when you were on facetime with someone he’d come in the camera and join the conversation—there’s nothing you haven’t seen him do and there’s nothing he hasn’t seen you do—including sexually. You walked in once on him jerking off, he continued and asked if you could turn the light off. On the other hand, after an argument you have a promise to always say ‘I love you,’ and he puts you on the inner side of the sidewalk.

Later, his friends eventually became yours. Whenever you were mad at Tooru, a group sleepover was planned. Whenever Makki couldn’t come, Mattsun was fine with it being just you two, he didn’t mind. Any issues you had that were too overwhelming to handle alone, you went to Mattsun for.

The guy in a constant manspread with a caprisun always in hand somehow seemed to know what to do; you trust him with your life. Every breakup, he was there for you, and you made it your job to reciprocate.

You have a different type of trust with Tooru though. No boundaries were overstepped with Mattsun once you set them as well. Therefore, your relationship thrived with the brunette for years. There were always Mattsun’s snarky comments that he said just to piss Oikawa off, but everyone giggled and thought nothing of it while he pouted.

Okay so, Oikawa was basically famous. He had off-putting fangirls that usually backed off once you were in the picture, but there were some that didn’t. You accepted this fact since he was the one that came home to you in the end, and because Makki made *secret* gagging noises whenever they yelled for Tooru from the stands.

You dealt with them all the way up until today. The day where on the last deuce point, the ball fell on the opposite side of the court, just on the line. Roars from the crowd sounded, the team banner was waved even higher, and the chants turned into screams. On the court, the guys were in pure joy, hugging and bellowing in relief—they had made it.

This was the part where you’d come in! You hopped over the stands with flowers and more. As expected, he was a flowers man, and once you found out you sat them on your apartment table for whenever he came over. You move hastily through the throng of people crowding the court until you find your extremely sweaty friends. They were ecstatic and could probably cry any second.

“You guys were amazinggg!” You dragged out. Iwa found you happily, sweeping you off your feet with a bear hug. Kindaichi and Makki joined, leading to a group team hug with the players who weren’t talking to their thrilled parents. They finally put you back down.

You pull down your riding up mid-thigh length dress, “Okay, I’ll find Oikawa. I have a surprise for you guys too!” You give a gleeful smile and wave, then turn around to start your journey.

Except it ends a lot quicker than you thought it would.

Almost immediately you find him laughing with another. He wins the game of his dreams and decides some random over you. Who even was she? She calms him down by placing her hands on his biceps, then going on her tip-toes to kiss him. His hands meet at her waist with a smile, clearly no problem that he’s detecting. It definitely wasn’t the first time.

People casually walk past the space that separates you and him when your heart drops to your feet. The presents you were so eager to give him for his accomplishment droop to your sides, you can’t do anything but stand in astonishment. You were livid and overwhelmed.

The voices behind you of the team halted. You assumed they saw what you saw, and when you turned around and looked at the rest of them, their jaws were dropped just as yours. Some look at you in sympathy, other’s gazes like Iwaizumi and even Kyōtani had nothing but pure anger leaking through them, and the ones left deadpanned Oikawa; just waiting for him to look up. They loved you just as much as Oikawa did—or so you thought.

You wanted to scream at him. You wanted to throw his promise necklace around your neck at him after you rip it off. You wanted to throw the flowers you got him at his feet and stomp on them.

But you couldn’t. This was also the rest of the team’s big day, and you didn’t want to make a scene. You turn back around. Hundreds of people are around you in the stadium as you stand shaking at what you’re looking at. Did all of them see it? You shrink in your spot. The kiss was interrupted by Iwa taking his arm harshly and dragging him to a nearby door, but not before he got a good look at your face. His brown hair fell over fearful eyes of regret.

This would be the last look. Tears rolled down your face when you think about what you sacrificed to get here. For how long? Did she know about you? Did you kiss the same mouth that may have had her lipstick on it at some point? You were sensitive, not soft. You knew by no chance you’d take him back, and all you could think was ‘fuck him.’

You set down the gifts for the team on the court and take this as your cue to speed-walk away, the call of your name not even making you look back. You wipe your tears as you exit and pick up the pace. You knew you were anything but, though you felt idiotic thinking back on all this, his own tardiness excuses being clear. With that thought, insecurities you didn’t even know you had came pouring in.

He was Tooru fucking Oikawa. Who were you? Some girl he put a title on making minimum wage? You turn the corner trying to make it to Mattsun’s car, you rode with him to not raise suspicion. Luckily you had the key, him forcing you to drive back.

She was gorgeous, you can’t lie, beautiful curly blonde hair with glasses—clearly you were never his type. Stretch marks decorated you and you always felt heavy, but he continued to express he didn’t mind when you sat on him. You hear footsteps behind you to ignore. You did not want to deal with this right now. You wanted to break things and cry your heart out doing it.

Quickly they caught up to you, hands turning you around and pulling you close, not saying a word. You saw Mattsun resting his head on yours, breathing heavy from running after the game of his life. Thus, you give in. You’ll apologize for that later too.

He refused to let you go. The 9 o’clock night settles in, bringing an ambiance of comfortable silence after what just happened. You cry softly into his uniform as he holds you tight.

He runs his hand in circles down your back, brushing your hair with the other. He foxily reaches in your back pocket for the keys. With a beep, the car door unlocks, and he guides you to the front seat. First he sits down and lowers his seat back, then he pulls you in after so you could position yourself comfortably on top. You never wanted him to let you go. You hug him and enjoy his presence. Honestly, you pray you weren’t hurting him while he gives you time to process.

“I’m sorry. I wish we knew.” He whispers.

Your feet are in the passenger seat since you’re spread over the console where he holds you like a child. Shaking your head against him, you tell him it’s okay. The light from the car goes off, leaving the two of you in the complete darkness when he moves a piece of hair out of your face and drags a finger down your nose bridge, knowing it’ll instantly put you to sleep.

“Don’t you still have awards to do?” You sob.

“They can wait.”

You snuggle into him further, you love being like this but he definitely did just win nationals. Surprisingly, you can’t smell the sweat through your sniffles.

“You have to go.”

“I don’t have to do anything.”

You peer up at him and he peers down at you. He wipes a tear off your cheek with his thumb. “You have to go because I said so.”

After some contemplation he rolls his eyes and chuckles, “fine, yes ma’am. Now get your sweet ass off me since you want me to go so bad.”

You relocate to the passenger seat where he hands you the keys.

“You want me to send someone out here with you?”

Once again you shake your head and he gives you a side smile before closing the door to go back in. You turn your phone on for light and fall asleep reminiscing. That was the end; you were no longer in a relationship with Tooru Oikawa.

. .

You’re awoken by pots and pans rattling in the kitchen of what is familiar as Mattsun’s house. He sat you down on the couch while you were asleep, almost knowing you were going to wake up hungry.

“Morning,” he says. It’s 11 pm.

. .

You eat and settle into his room since he insisted to take the couch. He has one of those big propped up mirrors with the colored frame. “This does add some vibrance to his room” you think. Passing by it and the dresser, the thoughts almost instantly reform.

You catch yourself judging your own body again, suddenly finding everything that could be disliked about you. Did you talk too much? Were you overwhelming? You’re realizing how unhealthy it is to think about what could have made him cheat on you rather than the fact that he cheated, but you can’t help yourself. You turn to the side for a better angle of your thigh marks, an obvious frown forming on your face. Matsukawa happens to walk in and spots you, a different frown of his own making its way.

“Stop.”

You fix yourself, “You don’t even know what I was thinking about.”

He scoffs, “like hell I don’t. He’s a dipshit for even thinking of doing something like that to someone like you.”

You turn your head to him in question, “Someone like me?”

He walks past and bluntly stares you up and down in front of the mirror. “Usually girls with stretch marks have good pussy. You get it from your mom, she’s hot too.” He smirks.

“Mattsun!” You shove him over. How is it he could be so vulgar in times like this?!

He throws his hands up in defense, then pops the last of the snicker he was holding in his mouth. He walks back over, behind you in the mirror, and trails a finger over your marks. You cringe and watch in the reflection.

“They’re like accessories.”

“Whatever.” You reply. He uses two fingers to guide you to turn a little, taking a closer look.

“All it does is show that your body growth couldn’t fit into your skin. Personally, I like something to grab on.” It takes everything in him not to grab a handful, just to see how much he could fit between his fingers, and squeeze.

You hide your smile, slowly starting to believe him. He looks around to the other side, finding matching ones to compliment.

“But that’s personally, meaning that’s just you. Not everyone likes them.” You retaliate. He stops in his tracks and looks at you from the side.

He twists you straight by your hips, correctly towards the mirror. You see him directly behind you to watch. His hands reach up to your neck, impressively undo the clasp, then leisurely peel off the ring necklace from your chest. Once you register yourself without the trademark promise jewelry in the glass, you look back at his eyes in examination. You find a smug expression, with seriousness glinting behind his low eyes, and he drops the necklace plainly to the floor.

“You don’t need everyone.”

He looks in your eyes. You slowly nod. He was entrancing when stern, no other words needed to be said for you to listen, even when heavy-hearted. He directed your eye back into the mirror with the slight push of your jaw.

“You see this body right here? It’s not for everyone.” He lowers his tone. His hands situate back on your hips, rubbing them loosely while he dictates.

“Some can handle it, some can’t.”

You look at him through the mirror to listen closely. You clear your throat to gather up the voice for your question, the discarded necklace already forgotten.

“Can you?” You inquire softly.

He slowly lowers himself down to your ear.

“Wanna find out?”

You scan his eyes for jokes. Your 3-4 year relationship went down the drain, but you realize the one you needed most held up. You can’t think of a time he wasn’t there for you. While your ‘boyfriend’ was trying to keep his reputation alive, you were trying to keep someone close to you the same.

There was a reason you went to Mattsun first for everything and he knew it. To keep your relationship alive (that you swore up and down you were happy in), he dismissed it. But now as he was staring into your eyes, the urge to kiss you has never been higher—especially since you just gave him the go.

So why not accept the invitation?

He unites your lips. You immediately return the gesture, slotting together slowly, deep and somehow loving. Twisting around, you wrap your arms around his neck.

You’ve never kissed him before, but damn you wish you had. He tastes like chocolate and his large hands feel so good roaming your body. The ongoing kiss was almost necessary, the pent up emotion the both of you had seeping through it. He groans when you suck his tongue and you make it your job to pull it out of him again. He easily gets you off the ground by reaching both hands behind your thighs and tapping. Following directions, you jump and giggle.

He smiles into the kiss and catches you, no struggle. He can, in fact, handle your body.

You move your falling hair out of the way and return to your previous position. You can definitely get used to making out with him. Walking over to the bed, he lowers you down. He casually hovers over you while you embrace him, making you more desperate, back arching up to reach. He caresses one of the legs wrapped around his waist when he pulls back to ask a final question.

“You want this?”

You tease him a bit, ignoring what he was actually asking concerning your past relationship.

“Do you want me?” You reply, twirling the hair at his nape.

Without reluctancy, he breathes out, “I need you. Really fucking bad. But that wasn’t my question.”

You’re shocked at the sudden tone, declaring yet desperate. Need. He needs you. You attempt to remember Oikawa saying it, but you can’t find a memory. If he did though he wouldn’t have meant it. You start to rethink your relationship. Have you been blind this whole time?

“Yes, I do want it.”

“Want what? It, or me?” He wasn’t letting it slide.

“…I want you.”

He smiles and pinches your chin delicately with his thumb, fulfilling your needs with another slow, gentle kiss.

“Good girl.”

You grin giddily and push him over to his back, straddling his hips. His lips feel ten times better on yours, somehow overriding your past boyfriend’s in an indescribable way. Your nicely manicured hands never find a stopping point as they run down his chest. His sweats have much to hide, though they obviously aren’t doing their job well.

Mattsun has walked around with his print clearly showing all the time. You’re not sure if he discontinued this habit since you were coming over less (due to your dramatic ex’s discomfort), and you didn’t care then, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss the way the fabric outlined the entirety of him perfectly.

You knew he was big. You’ve seen him, but never completely hard. You almost laugh out loud awkwardly when you realize whenever someone said he had “big dick energy,” they could only guess. Now as you were feeling curiously past the drawstring, he only sat motionless to watch your enlarging eyes and outwardly laugh at you once your fingers drag from the base to the tip under your own body. It was almost inviting and bigger than anything you’ve ever felt.

“Will it fit?…” You think. What you didn’t know was that you actually said it.

“Sorry, what was that?”

You redirect your gaze back to his face. He wears a shit-eating grin and has his hand that was on your hip by his ear, tilted to you in fake question. You swallow, and shyly ask again.

“Trust me princess, we’ll make it fit.” He hums.

The comforting feeling of him comes back when his charming hands roll your dress up. Now it was obvious he was looking at you through the mirror positioned at the foot of his bed, because he was fixated on the view of the pretty lace you wore curving over your ass. Technically it was part of Oikawa’s gift, but it’s being put to good use.

“You like it?” You move your hair out of the way and sway a bit, before slowly stepping to your knees in front of the bed.

“Can it be my wallpaper?”

You whole heartedly laugh. Sex with him is somehow fun rather than awkward, taking into consideration you’ve known him since you were a kid.

Looking up into his eyes you observe pure longing radiating his body. Reaching his lower abdomen as he leaned back was easy, like how easy it was to take him out. You found his length quickly and took it into both hands to lick a stripe from the middle to his tip. You sucked hard, seemingly kissing the top. Easing into it, you downed more and more, dissipating the friction with your saliva until his hand found your hair to push you downward towards your own fingers. You choked due to his actions.

“Can you take it all?” He smirks down at you.

He was almost belittling you, the taunting giving nothing but encouragement. You nod with your head still almost at the base, mouth more than full, forcing yourself deeper with your tongue out to not neglect his balls. You sputter again as saliva leaks from your lips, barely reaching the bottom. He curls his hips upwards to negate all restrictions you had.

“Fuck…that’s it, open up just a little more for me.”

You literally couldn’t go any farther with your nose deep in his skin. Once he holds you for a while, he bobs your head up and down for you, your jaw slack. You tried your best not to gag.

You can’t resist touching yourself with your panties to the side. His head thrown back is enough to fuel your arousal.

Throating him, your eyes are naturally closed, but you have to get in the habit of opening them. He loves seeing your pretty orbs and lashes glaze over with tears once his dick is too much for you. How he almost cums on the spot because no other woman has taken him this deep. The up and down motions of your head in his lap through the mirror not showing everything, but enough is implied. When he finally lets you up to breath ‘cause you tapped out, but a lopsided smile still decorates your face after your throat flexed beautifully around the shaft. You can barely speak, but you’ll still happily stick your tongue out so he can slap his head teasingly on it, smiling down at you. You stretch yourself with his size in mind, just praying he doesn’t rip you apart.

With just the thought you add an extra finger to make three. He didn’t know how nasty you were in bed, he could only imagine, but now he didn’t have to because you were right in front of him doing it all.

The praise keeps you going, joy spreading through your body even in your current position to please him. He suggests you get accustomed to getting sloppy (because it’s the only lube you’re gonna get). You like the word accustomed, meaning it wasn’t gonna be just one time. But what were you? Friends? Friends with benefits? Anyway, he refuses to cum anywhere but on you, especially when you haven’t came yourself yet. Then again, that doesn’t mean you weren’t soaking.

He orders you to your feet where you slip your panties off. He turns you around to your makeup for the occasion ruined, slight tear stains, and your dress being pulled off in the mirror. Then, he gives you choices as he unclasps your bra.

“So, what should we do. You wanna ride me and bounce in the mirror? Or would you rather watch as you get slutted out and bent over?” He offers.

The idea of him alone pounding into you from behind while he forces your glance to the glass thrills you. You request the second, then turn back around and crawl into position on the bed. He smiles to himself at your obedience and follows right behind you.

He pushes in a few fingers to check, shocking you, then once he decides you were stretched, pulls them out.

“Still on birth control?” You nod, he knew from all the times you complained about keeping up with the timing. You braced yourself when his flush tip poked into you from behind, later slowly inching its way inside.

He almost passed out the way you clenched around him. You didn’t have a choice: he was thick and filled you out completely. He was so big. You let your head drop as your muscles tense at the intrusion. You tell him to keep going (since you decided to deal with the penetrating pain all at once), but you regret that decision. You just know you underestimated it. You need a few minutes first.

“You’re so big…” His ego was already a force, and you didn’t mean to fuel it, but fuck.

“I’m halfway. Know you can take it.”

Halfway?

Some time after unstirring bodies and heavy breaths, you finally suck it up and rock backwards. He groans deeply.

Then you do it again. And again. Until it goes from painful, to uncomfortable, to nothing at all.

“You okay?”

You respond with a faint yes. If anything you were more than okay. He started meeting you half the way there, and that’s when you finally look up into the mirror. You were on your elbows, face flushed, with Mattsun rolling his hips ever so slowly into you from behind.

It was fucking hot, especially now that it felt good. He stops his hips when you get a glimpse of him grabbing his phone from the nightstand. He records his hand on the height of your ass from your arch, and the way your pussy gratefully gripped his length when you pushed yourself back on him. Face down ass up, you had to work for it. You swallowed him whole. Amused, he watches your pussy contract and expand from the travel of the middle of his dick to the head. How his veins got sucked in by you, like you were molded just for him. You trusted Mattsun so you made sure to moan a little louder.

“I know you love it baby, the way I stuff you.“

“Yes.” You breathe out. He slightly teased you inch by inch of the way, whether it was verbally or physically. Rubbing himself against your entrance, degrading words, anything. It was honestly starting to piss you off. He was completely aware.

“Faster…”

He just laughs evilly. He stops recording and throws his phone to the side to run his hands down your body.

“Drop the attitude and ask again, then maybe I’ll consider.”

You roll your eyes, resulting in the slap of your ass. He did start thrusting again though. You hiss, sigh, and ask again.

“Faster, please.” You whine. His face reads completely unbothered when he removes his shirt. He was going agonizingly slow, just to annoy you even more. In his mind, if you weren’t at the point of punching him in the face, then he wasn’t edging you enough. He should feel bad.

He doesn’t.

Fucking into you was nice he thought. The way he entered deep and slow as you groan at the reflection. Savoring your body. But you heard it. The way girls screamed his name when you stayed over. In fact, you were there when he had to get his headboard bolted to the wall. You could barely pay for your apartment along with groceries, so you had no choice but to deal with some that were even louder because you were there to try and scare you away. He’d walk back out like nothing happened, say bye, then proceed to offer you a drink. Little did you know, the entire reasoning behind it was you. No matter how many women he tried to bring in and distract himself with, none held the same effect that you do on him.

You give up trying and continue rocking back onto him yourself. Desperately attempting to reach the spot you needed and knew he could hit. It only angered you worse when he just wouldn’t. Clearly it showed on your face.

“You’re so funny, you know that? I thought I was bad, but the way you’re practically begging for me is hilarious.”

He laughed at you once more and with the sudden singular snap of his hips, you jolt forward.

“Fuck!”

You were caught off guard. He grabs a hold of your waist hard enough to leave marks, then shifts his weight on your back. This gets you further into the bed, enhancing your arch. The thrust that ensues pushes you back and forth with enough force to lead into the next—relentlessly, he drives into you. You can barely breathe. Your eyes go wide in the mirror and you can’t move, the only option is to sit there and take it. You drop to your chest.

“Oh my god-Issei,” You choke out, you can’t really speak with your chin attached to his bed, “P-please you have to-!“

“Wait? Thought this was what you wanted princess? Now that I know you’ll look like this, I’m not sure if I can bring myself to.”

He moved one hand to your hair, exactly what he thought was the perfect handle. He pulled upwards once he wrapped his hand in it to make sure you were watching in the reflection. Furthermore, you are elevated right back up to your elbows.

“You see that? Watch how you get dicked down by your ex’s best friend. In fact, I might send that video to him later.”

You cry out his name again, the image of Oikawa’s face once he opens the notification making you smile. Endlessly, Issei rams into you. His cock splits you open. The recoil is insane, it has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Just as Issei does, the situation, everything.

Suddenly, he slows his thrusts. With his grip still on your head you look back at him weakly, and he almost came right there. The atmosphere and the room are hot, but he’ll still say the hottest thing here is you. The kiss he gives you is sloppy.

“God you’re sexy. If you look away from the mirror I’ll stop, Pretty. See what I see.”

You nod your head. It wasn’t good enough.

“Okay.” You mutter. You watch in the mirror image as he builds up speed again and slams into you, tears pinching at your eyes. He constantly talks to you over the loud slapping of skin. His moans (that were more grunts/groans) couldn’t even be heard. You realize now why those girls were screaming, Mattsun was rough in the best way possible. You thought they were exaggerating until no bounce of your ass against him goes unnoticed, every smirk he gave you wanted to kiss it off his face, and every thrust felt like heaven. The warm feeling came rushing like a train, not even building up. He folds his body over yours to get right in your neck as he hugs you from behind.

“You look so gorgeous for me. My pretty girl.”

He just laughs through the words. You babble to answer as more of these statements pile in. You see now, he was waiting for you this whole time. You hate how blind you were for all those years missed, wasted on someone close to him who wasn’t even good for you. He had to watch it all. You were a mess and yet here he was. It was kind of scary to you how quickly you were over your ex, but once Issei was the one there comforting you, that was all you needed. Now you could finally be his. His pretty girl.

“No one can fuck you like I can. Move your hand.”

He swatted away your mindless right hand placed on his arm behind you. You’re not sure how you held yourself up or how it got there, but you’ve clearly been on one elbow. You tried your best to keep your eyes open. It was so overwhelming, especially when you were so close to cumming already. You didn’t know whether to cry, pass out, or fight to stay awake.

“Please I-Issei, n-nobody can just please,” You huff out. Quickly, back and forth you go, even though his body stops you from flying backwards. Your ass hits him before you get too far back, then that pushes you forwards, where he pulls you back down to repeat. He lets go of your hair and holds your chin up instead. He makes sure to look directly at you in the reflection.

“Fuck-Who’s my pretty girl?”

“Me Issei.”

Your voice gets higher with each thrust. He grunts, nearing his end as you gradually tighten around him.

“Yeah? Who? Say it.”

“Me. I’m…” He re-angles himself, hitting a spot you never knew would affect you this badly. He’s pretty sure your eyes actually came inward first before you subconsciously closed them, and his finger pad slid on your wet lip as you drift off into subspace.

“Come back to me baby.” He can’t even bring himself to stop fast enough to edge you. Instead, he takes a hard bite to your shoulder and expertly circles your clit with the hand that wasn’t holding your jaw up. To think he could bring you to this point on your first orgasm was insane. The way he slips in and out of your heat quickly, the white ring wrapping around his dick that only gets bigger, and his balls slapping against your skin feeling so so good.

You come back right on time to see and feel yourself squeeze around him. Everything goes white, you try to scream out his name but it comes out only a whisper and a sob, and you realize he was dead serious. Nobody can fuck you the way he just did. Nobody has. He digs his head into your neck for the long awaited spill into you. He’s thought about it so many times, but making you uncomfortable was not an option, especially with Oikawa in the picture. He convinced himself the mental images were innocent until they became progressive, but he didn’t care. You were his now. He thrusts his hips into you further to make sure you felt full with his eyes to your back, watching you twitch and cream on his thick cock in the mirror.

“Shit, I’m your pretty girl Issei...”

He throbs inside before the warmth creeps into you, Issei’s hold on your figure tighter than ever. You won’t leave him this time.

“What’s his name, baby?”

“Huh.” You blink slowly, still recovering from the euphoria. Your mind was in shambles. “Who?”

“Good fucking girl,” he presses a smiling kiss to your temple. He thought it’d take a few more rounds for that to be your answer, but he guesses that dick never fucked you good enough.

©hxltic

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