#matsukawa imagine

[mattsunism]

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. 

[hxltic]

Matsukawa has the nastiest deepstroke and nobody can tell me otherwise. Especially front. He curls his hips just right to make that fat tip hit the perfect bundle of nerves inside you. He whispers to you in missionary, one large hand hooked under your leg and the other rubbing your forehead and holding his weight. He makes you look at him, which would be so funny with how lovey dovey he gets when the squelch of your pussy echos in the background, and you’d laugh if all your energy wasn’t clenching your toes. It’s a slow pace, speeding up to about a medium every now and then, but it’s so constant it feels like it’ll never stop, though you are in heaven and the only thing you can see is the blur of his face.

When you can’t look at him, if holding your head up is too much, he’ll grab your hair and tilt your chin up to him, then mimic it to you. He may let closing your eyes for a bit slide.

The moment is still in all the world—just you and his words as you let him drag you through your orgasm. Faint yes’s and head nods tell him you can still somewhat function.

“That feel good?”

“Yeah? I know how to take care of this pretty pussy.”

“Fuuuck. You just gonna clamp down on me like that?”

“Pussy’s a mess. So fucking wet.”

He doesn’t even need to roll your clit like he usually does. Him hitting the spot repeatedly is enough to get you to squirt. Proven the last time you came.

Mattsun says he has to take care of his girls.

[makkir0ll]

"you have really long eyelashes"

it catches him off guard. you guys are just laying in your bed scrolling on your own phones. he didn't even feel you staring at him. how long have you been looking?

"thanks?" he replies

"no i mean seriously like drop the lash serum." you joke at him as you continue to observe him.

they're long and thick. the kind of lashes that have a natural curl, unlike yours, that fall straight down and take several minutes to curl to your perfect liking. not to mention the layers of mascara you apply to get them to even remotely look like his.

he turns his head to you and you don't miss his dilated pupils as his eyes bore into yours. you take note of how the lashes perfectly frame his eyes. and you're so jealous.

but then an idea pops into your head, you smile to yourself and he senses it coming.

"can i-"

"no" he cuts you off.

"babe please you don't even know what i was about to say!" you grab onto his shoulder as you plead.

"whatever it is im sure it's going to be bad." he retorts, turning his face away from you and going back on his phone.

"i'll buy you you're favorite food."

and that's how you end up here on his lap with your mascara in your hand. his hair is pushed back as his hands rest on your hips, drawing small circles as he awaits your actions.

you open the bottle with the black liquid and bring the wand close to his eyes. "don't move" you whisper and he listens. mainly because he's scared that you're going to poke his eye out as you bring the wand to the base of his eyelashes and wiggle it slowly before moving it up to coat the length of the lashes. some of the mascara gets on his eyelids. you repeat the actions on the other eye before going back and doing a second coat. you can tell that he might be slightly nervous that you're going to blind him with the way he holds his breath and the grip he has on your hips get ever so slightly tighter.

you move yourself off his lap and he goes to grab his phone so he can see what he looks like.

"wait no not yet, i'm still not done" you say as you go and grab ur q-tips and micellar water.

"still?"

"yes still, i need to clean up the mascara on your eyelids," you say as you place yourself back on his lap. you open the bottle of micellar water and carefully put the clear liquid on the q-tip. you bring the white stick of cotton to his eyes and you tell him to close them. he feels the wet cotton and it's a weird feeling. you watch the q-tip turn darker the more mascara you wipe off.

"okay i'm done!" you say and he opens his eyes and you don't think he's ever looked more majestic. his already long lashes looking even longer and bolder now that he has the mascara to bring them out. you notice that the color of his eyes pop more. "you look so pretty" you smile as lean in to pepper kisses along his face. his cheeks feel warm and he can already tell that they're probably red.

he reaches over to his phone and opens the camera app and switches the camera so he can see himself. and he immediatly notices the stark difference in his eyes with the mascara. he brings his fingers to his lashes to touch them. it feels weird and his eyes kind of feel weighed down. but he has no regrets when he sees you smiling at him so fondly.

"they look nice." he smiles at you, dropping his phone to the side.

"i know right, ugh im so jealous i wish i had your lashes. all my problems would be solved." you say, thinking about the long and excruciating lash routine you perform every morning.

"all of them?"

"yes, all of them."

he chuckles at your words. "alright, but can you take it off now, it feels weird." he says, hands coming to touch his lashes again. you pout as you grab the micellar water you put away and a cotton pad and remove the mascara from his eyelashes, being gentle so that he doesn't lose a few. he appreciates the action. and maybe he would let you put more than just mascara on his face another day.

KAGEYAMA (has the best lashes argue with the wall), suna, tsukishima (genuinely terrified that you're going to make him go blind), OSAMU, kuroo, MATSUKAWA MY LOVE, iwaizumi, OIKAWA (he would eat that shit up), akaashi, kenma, +ur fav.

[atsumwah]

butterflies

featuring : iwazumi hajime, miya atsumu, suna rintaro , matsukawa issei, hinata shoyo & sugawara koushi

notes : just things he does that gives you butterflies

when iwaizumi lies down on the couch, he likes to pull you with him and make you settle on top of him. he loves feeling your body against his and just being your pillow in general literally does not care how much you weigh or if you're afraid of being heavy. if you try to wiggle out, he'll cup your ass and make you stay.

atsumu has a tendency to trail kisses down your neck when you're doing something. he especially likes doing it when you're at the stove cooking. something about how he cages you with his arms and slowly kisses down your neck makes your knees turn to jelly <3

matsukawa likes to hold you by the hip. if you're out in public, his hand slowly trails down from your waist to your hip and holds you close no matter where you are. you constantly find his hands drifting even lower and by then you have to shoot him a glare to make sure he behaves.

suna does that thing where he leans down closer to you when you talk. it doesn't matter if you're sitting down next to him or lying back on top of him, he will move his face closer to yours and look you in the eyes while you're talking. he knows it flusters you so when he does it, he has this cheeky smile on his face

i fully believe hinata likes to lift you up just for funsies. like you could be doing the dishes and he needs to grab something from the cupboard above you so he'll lift you up to gently put you to the side. or when you're too lazy to get up and shower, mans will literally carry you on his shoulders like a baby. or when you're in the pool, he easily slips his hands on your hips to bring you up his shoulders. you weigh nothing to him bro

suga likes to tilt your head up when he wants your attention. like not in a demanding way but more like a look at me and only me kind of way. he has this smirk on his face when tilts your head up with his pointer finger, face inching closer to yours as he grabs your attention. literal definition of looks like an angel but an absolute teaseeeeee

[rishiguro]

HAIKYUU BOYS WHEN YOU CATCH THEM CHEATING ON YOU

ft. sakusa; osamu; sugawara; matsukawa; yamaguchi

a/n: i want more angst

warnings: cheating, obviously

sighing he sat down beside you on the couch, not even frowning when you moved away. “i’m sorry you found out like this,” SAKUSA said curtly. “but not sorry that you’ve done it in the first place, huh?” he clenched his jaw, staring at the clean floor between his naked feet. his silence told you everything you needed to know. he was always aware of what he was doing every time he was with someone, aware of the possible consequences and he never really cared enough to stop. but as he saw you leave him behind, a bag over your shoulder and not even looking back at him, the guilt started to sink in, finally realizing what he had given up on for a couple nights of fun.

OSAMU ran his hand through his hair as he groaned in frustration. “i’m sorry!” he yelled out again, “i don’t know what else you want me to say! tell me and i will, i will do fucking everything okay?” you couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes at him. “maybe you shouldn’t have gone out to fuck someone, did you think about that?” you yelled back angrily. “i know i shouldn’t have! i should’ve just broken up with you, i know! you were never here, i didn’t even know what else to do!” you didn’t say anything after, instead effective ending the conversation by slamming the door behind you. and every night he thought back to this conversation, replaying what he said over and over in his head, he didn’t know why he blamed you for what he did.

SUGAWARA wished he had an answer for you. you, the person he claimed to love the most, only to betray them in the worst way possible. he couldn’t even look you in the eyes as you kept pleading, almost begging for an answer, only wanting to know why he did what he did. after long minutes of you asking over and over with tears welling up in your eyes, he broke, yelling whatever came to his mind. “they were different! just… just different” he turned away as he continued. “they make me feel so wanted, they give me everything i want, no matter what” he could only hear you chuckling sadly. “i gave you everything i had, but that wasn’t enough?”

MATSUKAWA knew that he couldn’t fool you forever, it was only a matter of time until this blew up in his face. you noticed how he suddenly became clingier again, louder, and seemingly happier. you hadn’t expected that it was because of somebody else though. “i didn’t know how to tell you,” was all that he could say with his lips pressed into a thin line, “i still love you it’s just—“ he took a deep breath, turning around, not wanting to see the look on your face. “i’m not in love with you. i don’t want to be with you anymore” he kept telling himself that it was alright, that he did what he had to just to be happy. but after seeing your facial expression, so full of hurt, he wasn’t sure anymore.

you couldn’t stand being in the same room as YAMAGUCHI anymore, constantly telling him to get out and leave you alone, but he wouldn’t listen. instead he trailed behind you like a lost puppy or a duckling behind his mother, fingers itching to hold on to you by the hem of your top like he has done countless times when he got overwhelmed. he kept apologizing, always repeating the same few words over and over, whimpering when you ripped yourself away from him. he didn’t care about what you would say or do to him, telling himself that he would endure everything just to keep you by his side, praying that you would forgive him his one mistake. he swears that this was all that it was, a mistake — but the chats in his phone say differently.

reblog to take revenge on them

[strawberrykake]

men that would unashamedly wear your very feminine-looking handbag over his shoulder as you browse through clothes in the store.

—IWAIZUMI, Ushijima, Aone, DAICHI, Tanaka, UKAI, Kageyama, Akaashi, MATTSUN, Hanamaki, WASHIO, Sugawara, KITA, Aran, OSAMU, KUROO, KYOUTANI, Oikawa

[loveephia]

:¨ ·.· ¨: ハイキュー!! you as aoba johsai's beautiful manager . . .

`· . ꔫ . . . inarizaki ver. | nekoma ver.

+ shiratorizawa ver. | fukurodani ver.

⚠ warning/s: none.

-🧍‍♀️

- you signed up because iwaizumi hajime is on the team you needed some team building experience

- and the members were kind to you, of course!!

- maybe maddog didn't like you very much.

- you don't know why, but it's okay.

- you'll grow on him one day!!

- sadly, that day is just not today. 😔

- oikawa thought you were a fan of his

- which is not true

- like.

- at all.

- if anything, you were more of a fan of iwaizumi, but moving on

- word got out that you were their manager, and you SWEAR that oikawa's fangirls are plotting something.

- oikawa treated you the same as he does with every other girl, maybe the occasional flirty statement here & there

- but like

- NO.

- YOU DIDN'T WANT THIS!!!!!

- yahaba tried HIS shot on flirting with you using the good ol' toss-and-run, aka the same thing he tried to do with yachi

- you quickly shut him down by running away, absolutely mortified by the expression on his face.

- NO BC SERIOUSLY WHAT IS THIS

- bro's rizz came right outta aot 😭😭😭

- just avoid him like the plague, and you'll be fine

- kunimi is one of the more calmer boys, so you /may/ have unintentionally favored him

- like, you'd refill his water bottle first, you'd fetch his towel first, etc.

- kindaichi gets the job done, but he tends to get lost in his own thoughts

- matsukawa and hanamakki are pretty chill as well,, a joke about oikawa every now and then makes you laugh

- and iwaizumi

- wow, where do you even start

- wou don't know WHY oikawa is the one with a bunch of fans, when his hunk of a best friend is right there

- but it's okay. less competition, am i right lass.

- you do not hide your liking towards iwaizumi.

- "iwaizumi is so cool!" you say with hearts, visibly forming on your eyes

- "are you aware that you're talking to yourself?" kunimi asks with a stoic face

- "very aware."

- iwaizumi messes up his spikes every now and then because he feels you watching him

- YOU'RE JUST. THAT. PRETTY. 😭😭

- he gets all shy whenever you hand him his things because he can see flowers and sparkles all around your face

- "..thanks, y/n."

- "you're welcome, iwa!"

- PARDON??

- WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL HIM.

- "o- oh—! sorry for calling you that. i heard oikawa say it, and well.." you sheepishly apologized. you truly didn't mean it. it completely flew over your head that this was just your first day as their manager.

- "no, it's okay. it was cute." iwaizumi puts a halt to his step.

- ok

- wgat ☺️

- so here you two are, a blushing mess, while the third years watch

- "i bet the entire team some ramen that iwaizumi is the first to get married between him and oikawa." hanamaki says.

- "deal." matsukawa accepts

- "you two are so annoying..!" oikawa cries out

- maybe maddog will grow more accustomed to your presence if you'll be iwaizumi's future wife :p

© lowercase intended | loveephia

[strxwberrylemonxde]

“run away with me.”

silence hung in the air as you considered his words. turning to look at him, there was a sharp glint in his eyes. one that suggested trouble.

“you shouldn’t tease me with such a question.”

“who said anything about teasing, sweetheart? why not get out of this shit city? just you and me.”

SUNA, TENDOU, kuroo, kenma, nishinoya, matsukawa, terushima, yamamoto, konganegawa, tanaka

[miya-rin]

haikyuu characters as tweets

part two! - part three!

[cottonlemonade]

500 yen

warnings: Seijoh 4

____________________________________________

“Over there by the benches, 12 o’clock.”

“Oh, pretty.”, Makki said.

Issei emptied his water bottle in deep gulps. “I’m going in.” He slapped his cheeks with both hands and rolled his shoulders, then looked at his friends expectantly. “Say something encouraging.”

Makki inspected his hands. “Not a chance.”

“Nope, but I can slap you, too, if that helps.”, Iwaizumi offered.

“Thanks, I think I’ll pass.” Issei’s shoulders dropped.

“Of course it’ll be fine, Mattsun. You got this.”, Oikawa assured him.

Once his friend left he added, “500 yen, he gets rejected.”

“Yup.”

“I don’t know.”, Makki interjected, trying to observe the situation covertly while Iwaizumi and Oikawa just blatantly stared, arms crossed, “She might be into it. I mean, tall protective boyfriend is something girls like, right?”

The other two looked at him.

“Yeah I know, I don’t believe it either.”

“I can tell from here that she’s out of his league.”, the captain noted, tilting his head and letting his eyes wander over your curvy figure.

Then Makki grabbed his shoulder and Oikawa’s jaw dropped.

“No way she is giving him her real number.”

“I think she might be. Look at that blush.”

Iwaizumi grinned, never having doubted his friend.

____________________________________________

✨ @starrbright ✨ 🫰🏻

[popkorrn]

types of physical affection.

genre. fluff

feat. akaashi, matsukawa, suna, sakusa, nishinoya x reader

akaashi may not be big on physical touch, but he always keeps a gentle and reassuring touch on you. whether that be a hand on the small of your back when you're walking through a crowded place, or giving your hand a small squeeze to get your attention. he loves to hold your hand, interlacing his fingers between yours while absentmindedly rubbing soothing circles onto the back of your hand. he would press light kisses against your knuckles or fingertips from time to time, and would completely melt if you do the same.

matsukawa always wraps his arm around your shoulders when you're walking side by side, and claims that he does it because you're a great armrest. but in all honestly, he likes to have you wrapped snugly in his arms because it puts him at ease. he will never admit that he's protective over you, but his body language says otherwise. when he's driving and he hits the brakes a bit too late, his arm immediately jumps in front of you to stop you from lurching forward. he also loves it when you loop your arm around his, effectively hugging his arm. bonus points if you're holding his hand while doing it.

suna loves it when you run your hand through his hair, or when you massage his sore muscles after training. he likes to surprise you with back hugs out of nowhere, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. sometimes he would lean majority of his weight onto you, chuckling when you struggle to balance under his tall frame. he is the type to get your attention by lifting your chin between his index finger and thumb, turning your head to face him. he is a sucker for back rubs when you're cuddling, and it is almost impossible to get him to let go of you when you're trapped in his embrace.

sakusa is more reserved with physical affection, especially in public settings. that being said, he absolutely adores it when you link pinkies with him, and his brain would short-circuit if you ever wrapped your hand around his fingers instead of his hand. when the two of you are alone, he likes to pull you into the warmth of his chest, resting his chin on the top of your head, listening intently while you talk to him about your day. he gets more touchy when he’s tired, opting to rest his forehead against your shoulder as you rub calming patterns on the nape of his neck.

nishinoya isn't afraid to smother you with affection. every time he sees you, he would run up to you with the brightest smile, calling out your name before enveloping you into the biggest bear hug. he doesn't care if other people are watching, he just wants his hugs and affection. he moves around a lot when cuddling, mostly because he's excitedly recounting a story, so your bed always ends up in a mess of blankets and intertwined limbs, but you don't mind it one bit. for some reason, he really likes to give you piggyback rides, and relishes in your bursts of laughter.

© popkorrn — reblogs and notes are much appreciated!

[shojoisms]

— [♡] 21:55 with Matsukawa.

just a lil drabble because I love this man, your honor + not beta’d just copied and pasted from my docs.

✩⡱ content+warnings: fem!reader, established relationships, vaginal penetration, size kink, creampies, pet names are used!

Your boyfriend watches in amusement — watching you huff and grunt as you struggle to sink down on his cock, both your hands placed on his broad chest to steady yourself as you try again.

“What’s wrong, bunny?” Matsukawa asks, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, his features doing nothing to mask that — yes — he does find your current dilemma amusing.

“Need a hand?” You roll your eyes as he places his heavy hands on your hips before you swat them away — the teasing lilt never leaving his tone.

“No,” You lift yourself up so that you're hovering mere inches away from Matsukawa’s thick, monster cock — the fat mushroom head bumping against your clit has you hesitating.

For a while, none of you say anything instead you retract one of your hands, stroking his cock for good measure. Matsukawa groans at the sensation, pre cum beading on the tip as you continue pumping him and slathering his shaft in his essence for extra help.

It’s not long before you’re aligning the tip of his cock with your awaiting heat — slowly but surely, his girth disappears between your folds. The stretch burns, although not unbearable, your boyfriend was huge. Way more endowed than most of the men you’ve ever been with, even rivaling half of your toy collection.

A string of curses spew from you both. “‘S fuckin’ big,” you hiss, your head laying against Matsukawa’s chest as he finally bottoms out.

“So fuckin’ tight,” He mocks back with a hiss, although with no malicious intent — you felt amazing around him, like you were made for him and he’s damn sure he’s gonna mold your pussy in the shape of his cock, ruining you for every man after him, has his balls tightening at the idea.

“Give me sec,” you breathe out, giving yourself time to adjust to the sheer size, and hefty weight of Matsukawa’s cock.

“Take all the time you need,” He hums, “not goin’ anywhere, not when your pussy’s clenching onto me like this,”

You can feel your boyfriend’s chest rise with laughter, as soon as your body gets accustomed to his you raise your hips, allowing them to fall back down upon his cock — his laughter catching in his throat as you clench around him.

Your pace starts off slow, teasingly slow, just to spite your boyfriend and he rolls his hips lazily in encouragement.

You relish in the way Matsukawa’s cock feels as you spear yourself upon it — his cock stretching the warm pouch of your cunt with each movement, as you force more of him inside you, making you feel full.

“Is—sei,” You drawl, Matsukawa can barely take it, he needs more — more than what you’re offering.

Taking matters into his own hands, he grabs you by your hips — palms planted firmly against you. You squeal in surprise as he lifts you up before slamming you back down on his length, his cock delving deeper inside of you as the tip hits against your cervix.

His pace is relentless, unforgiving, almost certain that he’s punishing you for teasing him earlier. “Fuck, f—fuck” you cry, your hands clawing at his back while your nails rake across his skin, leaving scratches across the surface.

He merely groans in response, unfazed by your actions.

It feels like your losing your mind as more and more of Matsukawa splits you open, he even shifts his hips to ram into your more sensitive spots with a calculated precision — determined to make you go dumb on his cock.

It’s not like he had to do much anyways.

Matsukawa’s not much of a talker when it comes to sex, but something about the way your hole keeps sucking his cock back in has him reconsidering. “You feel so fuckin’ good, shit”

Tears are beginning to form in the corners of your eyes, your vision going hazy as the last remnants of your sanity fades away. “Like you were made for me, bunny,”

Your lips fall open, as more moans roll off your tongue. You’re close — the coil in your tummy growing tighter.

Matsukawa knows it, he can tell by the way your walls flutter around him — clenching, and squeezing his cock as you finally cum.

You fall slack in his embrace, although it does nothing to hinder him — he continues bouncing you up and down on his cock as if you were weightless, weighing less than a doll. “Almost there,” he grunts, and it’s not like you could really comprehend what he was saying anyways.

And with a few more rolls of his hips, his cock twitches and pulses inside you, signaling his end as he spurts thick ropes of semen along your walls until you’re completely overfilled, leaving some to seep from between your folds —- wetting both yours and his thighs.

Matsukawa pulls you close, pressing his lips against the curve of your face. “Atta girl,” it comes out breathlessly, “let’s go get you cleaned up,”

[atsumwah]

too pretty!

featuring : matsukawa issei the loml <3

notes : you're jealous your bf is too pretty

you're aware that your friends are very attractive. 

oikawa's somewhat charming personality easily grabs a girl's attention, iwaizumi's buff figure immediately turns heads whenever he enters a room and makki had this boyish ruggish look that somewhat looks cute to some people. it's normal seeing them being hit on by girls and sometimes it's like a form of entertainment for you.

but your boyfriend on the other hand, now this is new.

you've been together since high school. you've always found issei attractive. he's not a smooth talker like oikawa, but his attentiveness and response when you talk to him makes you feel seen and heard. he doesn't seem as built as iwaizumi at first glance, but underneath those baggy clothes hid something you're glad only you can see and touch. he's not as easy going as makki, but the way he spontaneously shows up at your house at 3 in the morning when you're upset tells you maybe he's easy going when it comes to you. 

so falling in love with him was inevitable because all the things he does with you and only you are attractive. 

but you're not the only one who thinks that anymore. 

see, after your boyfriend figured out his own style that weren't baggy clothes and instead fitted his physique and also found a way to style his usual mess of a bedhead into luscious curls, he suddenly became attractive to everyone around him. 

and it pissed you off. he was always attractive without the sudden change but now its like that's all people see. 

like when you visited oikawa and iwaizumi at the gym and the manager shamelessly flirted with issei the moment you left to greet them. or when you visited makki with him at the cafe he worked at and makki's coworker only paid attention to issei and completely ignored you. or when you were out grocery shopping and left issei for five minutes only to come back to a girl who had the audacity to ask if he was single.

so yeah you're pissed off. and there's only one logical way to fix this.

"what are you doing?" issei asks as you settle down on his lap and ruffle his already done up hair. "baby, i just fixed it."

"i know. i'm ruining it." 

instead of being mad his hair is being messy, he raises an eyebrow instead. "but then we're gonna be late."

"you'll go out like this then." 

he has this amused smile now. "okay, what's up with you?"

"nothing." you said, somewhat proud of your work. "just fixing you up."

"this is the opposite of fixing me up, babe." he took your hands and plants kisses across your palms, then he rests his own hands on your hips. "why are you making me look like i just made out with you? there are other ways to achieve that." 

in another situation you would cave in but you had a mission. "you're too good looking. i'm trynna make you look less good looking."

this time, he laughs. "gee thanks babe. i appreciate the compliment." 

"i'm serious." you pout, though issei just keeps on laughing. "you're too pretty and girls are swooning all over you and you don't even do anything about it."

"whoa what," he stops, eyes locking onto yours. "who's swooning over who now?"

"everyone is all over you. can't you tell?" you huff when you realize his bed head makes him look even more attractive. damn it.

"honestly no." he says simply. "and you're…jealous?"

"i'm not jealous. i'm pissed. there's a difference."

"pretty sure they're the same thing, babe."

you squish his cheeks, framing his face with your hands. "stop being so pretty."

he chuckles and brings his hands up to cover yours. "this is really bothering you, huh?"

"maybe just a tad bit."

"you know i only got eyes on you, right?" he takes your hands off and leans in so you both are nose to nose.

"i've been told so once or twice."

"once or twice?"

"maybe hundreds of times but who's counting."

"and you know im stuck with you forever, right?"

"mhm," you indulge him by wrapping your arms around him, "you better be."

"so there's no reason for you to get all jealous." he says, eyebrows raising up as if an idea popped into his head. "what if you just kiss me if that happens?"

"like stake my claim? what are we, animals?" 

"i mean that's what i've been doing when guys hit on you."

"it is? wait, back up, when has that happened?"

"you're delusional if you think guys don't hit on you."

"they don't!"

"yeah well they don't get the chance to do it properly because my radar is just too good."

"oh my god, you're serious."

"deadass. and lemme tell you, it always works." he says proudly. "i get to turn you into mush and also send a warning to other guys. win-win situation."

"i do not turn to mush."

"really now?" he wiggles his eyebrows. "want a reminder?"

you think you've indulged him quite enough so you flick his forehead instead. he winces. good.

"so you don't mind?" you said, narrowing your eyes playfully. "you don't mind me staking my claim on you next time it happens?

"baby, please, I encourage it." he says, almost too quickly.

you giggle, feeling some sort of satisfaction that your boyfriend is all on board with you staking your claim in front of people. it should make you feel shy or embarrassed but it kind of makes you feel giddy instead. but he doesn't need to know that yet.

tempted to do a pt2 but it's just me reader making out w issei

[moechies]

giving issei nii a bj 🏩💝 tw dark content icst, giving oral

“good, just like that. just a little more, cmon.. do it for your nii chan.”

his cold fingers are tangled in the side of your scalp, soothing his thumb over your sweet face.

you glance up at your nii chan with your pearly eyes glazed in the prettiest tears, with your wet lips from your saliva that still had a little remnant of your previously applied lip gloss. you were too fucking perfect.

“breathe in through yer nose imouto, it’ll be easier for you,”

you pull your mouth off his cock unexpectedly, the suffocation getting too overbearing. it was starting to burn your throat with how much it was being stretched, but the unsatisfied look on your niichans face was enough to make your heart ache.

“m-m sorry issei nii, s-s just too big.. i jus.. just n-need your help! please..!”

“yeah, you need nii chans help? how, hm? you have to tell me, or i don’t know what to do.” he did know what to do, but he was teasing you. making you say lewd things out loud. he loved it, and you knew that.

“m-maybe you can try n push on my head.. so it’ll go deeper..!”

it makes him grin.

“kay, let’s try it. gonna take it all this ti—“

and before he can even finish his sentence, your warmth is already wrapped around him, pulling a groan from your niichan. you feel his hand on your head yet again, but this time he’s a bit rougher with his actions. his hand begins to press down further and further onto your head, the pressure getting just a bit harsher each second.

the panic settles in, as you feel his cock going past a certain limit in your throat,

“don’t panic, yer doin’ so good f’me yeah? just what i expected from you, imouto.”

the praise causes a flutter in your cunt, pressing your cunt furthermore into your heel.

“gonna cum, princess. you know how to make your niichan feel s-so good, hm?”

and before you can hum back in agreement, your niichans semen fills down your throat, to the brim if your mouth. the action is too quick and causes you to choke and whine. he pulls out with a groan, tracing a heart with his tip on your plush lips. it makes him chuckle at your little angered face, in realization of what he had just done. he places a gentle kiss on your lips anyway, because how could he not?

“good fuckin girl. so good. here, ya wanna spit it o-“

“s so sweet issei nii!”

[hxltic]

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

[etherrreal]

“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