#matsukawa imagines

[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

[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

[laiiaaa]

SEEMS PROMISING — MATSUKAWA ISSEI

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

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

length: 3.6k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, that one—he’s a little…”

“Little bit much?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really? What’s he say about me?”

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

“Yet?”

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

You lend him a blank stare. “Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hajime, you mean?”

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

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

“Well, you smoke.”

“Yep.”

“You wear a nice corduroy jacket.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, that’s three things.”

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

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

“You want to trade information?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s your favorite song, and why?”

“That’s two questions.”

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

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

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

“Okay, then think about it now.”

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

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

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

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

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

“And what would that be?”

“That smoking’s a no-go?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

“To the first part, or the second?”

“The first.”

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

“Romantic?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, “He was a dick.”

“That sucks.”

“Thanks. How about you?”

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

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

“It’s alright.”

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

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

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

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

“It did.” You look at his lips.

“I don’t even know you.”

“No, but you could.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That I did.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you nod, “Probably.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he thinks it seems awfully promising.

[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. 

[miya-rin]

matsukawa knew that he liked you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you’re here.

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

“where were you? i was so worried.”

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

“you never were the brightest were you?”

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

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

[stupidsagestars]

𝐜𝐞𝐗 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫! 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : food play [ ice cream ] , mentions of marks and scratches, inappropriate language, raw sex ( I might be missing some )

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: matsukawa works at the local ceX to earn some extra cash, he meets you, a girl who has a bunch of odd stuff she wants to trade and a great sense of humor. One thing leads to another and things get spicy.

-★ this is so cheesy but I love it

---★---★---★

𝐜𝐞𝐗 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫! 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 who's been working part-time at the cex near his college for the past month and god is it the worst. Everyday he's had to deal with sweaty, obnoxious people trying to trade their gross shit, and buy stupid things, he doesn't even get paid enough to deal with it all. Well anyway there's no point in complaining it's not like he wanted to quit, he needed any extra money he could get.

𝐜𝐞𝐗 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫! 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 who quietly curses when he hears the doors open. He doesn't bother lifting his head to look at who enters, he's way too tired for that, instead he's playing subway surfers on his phone, tapping his fingers on the counter.

He snaps his head up at the sound of something hitting the counter. Immediately he locks eyes with the most beautiful woman he's ever seen in his life.

"Hi!" You say giving him a small wave.

"Hi. Uh what's all this?" He says, slipping his phone in his pocket.

"Just some stuff I'd like to sell." You hum, looking around awkwardly.

"You're welcome to take me through it." He mumbles.

"Great! So we've got this uh, half broken ukele." You say, pulling out a completely broken piece of loose strings and peeling paint.

Matsukawa scoffs. "Are you serious?" He asks.

"Excuse me this is perfectly playable!" You say, frowning at him.

"Oh my god, you're actually being serious." He says looking at you with shock although he was secretly enjoying this alot.

"Look, I can play something."

You strum the ukele and shockingly the last intact string breaks.

"Great." He says sarcastically.

"Give me a break, I'm sure none of the shit here is super clean and fully working."

He sighs before standing up and emptying the box.

"Let's make this quick for both of us." He says slowly.

"why'd you work here anyway?" You ask trying to make small talk. You couldn't help but steal glances at him whilst he looked through the junk you bought in. He was so goddamn attractive, it made you feel hot and bothered just standing next to him.

"college." he mumbles.

You scoff before saying, "I can't believe you!'

𝐜𝐞𝐱 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫! 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 who looks at you confused. "What?"

"A college student can't help another college student out??"

He can't help but chuckle at what you said.

"Hot" He says giving you a flirty look.

"I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that." You say rolling your eyes at him although your mind is buzzing at the comment, A HOT GUY JUST CALLED YOU HOT Y/N!!!!!!!!!

"Did you go to a garage sale before coming here? There's so much random shit in here."

"Of course I went to a garage sale dumbass, I'm 21 years old why the hell would I have a toy xylophone lying around?"

He pretends to act shocked, "that's really mean because I actually own two of those."

You playfully stick your tongue at him to which he smiles at you.

He takes a look at the many items spread out on the counter.

" Well out of all these many, many, many things I'll trade 3."

"Lovely." You say sticking your hand out for him to shake. He firmly grips your hand making you feel incredibly flustered but you play it off quite well.

𝐜𝐞𝐗 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫! 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 who is absolutely mesmerized by you. You were just so.. so attractive? Your humour matched with his perfectly, your voice was so, soothing, imagine having that moaning his name?? Imagine if he had you ride him on that same chair, he wouldn't even mind fucking you on the floor.

Why did you make him so horny, maybe it was because he hadn't fucked in a while, I mean this stupid store seemed to be repelling every girl away from him but what if he was attracted to you, like properly attracted?

𝐜𝐞𝐗 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫! 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 who's trying to find the keys to his dorm when he hears a familiar voice from behind me.

"ceX guy!" you say but quickly regret it feeling your face get hot.

You're extremely surprised to see him, you're initially looking for your best friend Kiyoko who you're sure lived on this floor.

He turns round to see a familiar face behind him.

"sex guy?? so that's your little nickname for me?" He smirks at your stunned face that looked like it wanted to jump out of the window.

"shut up." Is all you manage to come up with.

"Well, here we are at the same college, we're in the same building, same year, we really are the perfect pair!" He laughs, scratching hair as he slowly eyes you up and down taking in all of your curves.

"unfortunately not, you play toy xylophones, I'm a bit more advanced I play toy keyboards." You hum, smiling at him.

He puts his hand on his chest in shock. " I can't believe you! How could you??"

Mattsun loves the feeling you're giving him just by talking to you, he hasn't felt this alive in ages.

"well I'll see you around, oh and do you know anyone called Kiyoko and does she live on this floor??"

"Tanaka's girlfriend? She lives upstairs I think." He mumbles, trying to think of an excuse to spend some more time with you.

"And also.. I mean I know I've known you for about 1-2 hours but can I don't know, have a fun little sleep over with you. I left my keys at the store."

You can feel your heart about to explode and your eyes about to pop out of their sockets.

"You?? Mr Sex Guy?? Sleep over??" You ask and he shrugs his shoulders.

"We could make the best fort and also I'm currently Mr ceX guy not Sex Guy unless you wanted the latter of course." He says enjoying the flustered look on your face

𝐜𝐞𝐗 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫! 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 who ends up following you up to your dorm, throwing in some flirty comments throughout the journey.

"we are 2 adults. 2 sexy adults, 2 adults who should be no strangers to some very freaky sex which I think we should indulge in, it's human nature honey"

"Are you drunk?"

"no but I'm super horny, I bet you're super kinky." He retorts.

You kick him in the shins before opening the door to your dorm.

"Are you like the official advocator for sex?" You say.

"Just for you honey." He says letting the nickname roll of his tongue.

"This place is nice." He says, kicking off his trainers and taking a seat on the couch.

"Ice cream?" You ask him, walking over to the fridge.

"Ooh yes, what flavour??"

"Uhh I got either Mint, Strawberry and Rocky Road."

"Why not all 3?" He asks and you chuckle, coming back with a massive bowl of ice cream and two spoons. Mattsun's eyes immediately travel down to your ass, thinking about how fun it'd be to spank it till it's sore. He's definitely take a picture, your ass with his handprint clearly marked on it, damn would that be great.

"Hold." You tell him so you could get the remote to which he replies, " I've got slippery hands, I don't know if I can manage."

"Well if you don't you're licking it off the floor."

"I bet you'd love that."

"Maybe."

"Fuck. That makes me want to do it now."

"I'm not stopping you."

𝐜𝐞𝐗 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫! 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 who's never felt better sitting down with a girl who he's extremely attracted to and watching fallen angels. This. This is the sort of life he's been yearning for. The two of you weren't cuddling or sitting closely with each other yet somehow each others presence seemed comforting.

"this film's so confusing yet so good." You mutter, eyes glued to the screen whilst you licked the ice cream off the spoon.

Even though this was one of his favourite films Mattsun was only interested in you. Your pretty little face that had the most angelic smile he had ever seen.

He immediately turns red when you turn to notice him staring at you.

"Are you admiring me?"

"Yes."

𝐜𝐞𝐗 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫! 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 who can't control himself anymore and decides to move closer to you and kiss you. He was expecting to just give you a small peck on the lips but instead gets to indulge in a long sensual kiss.

You both are left to stare at each other breathless and drooling.

"Fuck." You breathe out.

"Well are we going to continue?" He says impatiently, biting his lip.

" I mean we might as well."

𝐜𝐞𝐗 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫! 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 who's got you spread on your bed completely naked, his tongue alone has made you cum twice. He's got the bowl of ice cream in his hands and he's giving you the most sensual look ever.

"if anything you're the kinky one." You say in gasps, still unable to talk properly after continuosly moaning his name for god knows how long.

You immediately moan from the sensation of the cold delight touching your stomach.

Mattsun licks it with ease, sticking his tongue at you before swallowing.

"d'you want some?"

You nod at him, eager to know what he would try next.

This time he scoops a handful of ice cream and smears it across your breasts.

"oh no! I made a mess." He says in a raspy voice letting his saliva fall down onto your breasts.

You can't help but moan loudly at the sight infront of you. He lazily swirls his hand in the mixture of ice cream and saliva and shoves it in your mouth.

"tastes good doesn't it?"

You nod, making sure to swallow everything.

He slips of his boxers finally making him fully naked and immediately pushes his girthy length inside of you.

"oh my god- why is your dick so big." You moan thoughtlessly, seriously shocked.

"I dunno, d'you like it? I mean I've already shoved it down your throat, I'd assume you were used to the size by-" He stops himself with a deep groan.

Your walls are sucking him deeper and deeper into your pussy, the thought of having to pull out was so so painful.

"Ugh honey you're pussy is addictive." He moans out as he continues to pound into you at a shocking speed.

Your moans are so addictive to him, the way your eyes roll back, it's all so sexy.

Mattsun being Mattsun though, he can't just fuck your pussy boringly not without the bowl of ice cream that was lying next to him. There's still some left and he doesn't want to waste food. He lets one hand rest on your hips and uses the other to pick up the bowl.

His hands can barely hold the damn thing properly because of how weak he feels, how weak you're making him feel. Your moans are shorter and even more ragged which tells him you're close. He lets the ice cream fall onto the floor, ignoring how the bowl shatters, as he pulls out and cums on the sheets. You cum straight after and you don't have the energy to say or do anything. Your legs are sore and your whole chest is decorated with scratch and bite marks.

𝐜𝐞𝐗 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫! 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 who has just enough energy to pull you under the covers with him before falling asleep.

--★---★

LIKE FOR A PART 2 WHICH IM HONESTLY SO TEMPTED TO DO, MAYBE LIKE A MORNING AFTER OR A FEW WEEKS? THIS WAS ACTUALLY SO FUN TO WRITE I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED , LIKES, REBLOGS AND FOLLOWS R APPRECIATED.

[the header is from Pinterest, credit to whoever made it!!]

[kunizk]

BOYFRIEND’S LOVIN’ !

characters. . . atsumu miya, matsukawa issei, bokuto koutorou, tsukishima kei. all characters are over 21

+ ATSUMU MIYA

atsumu literally can’t make it any more obvious how much he loves you, constant hand on either your shoulders, your waist or the small of your back. delicate hands that rub at your sides, he almost can’t take his hands off of you when your in private — he just thinks your the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, all his. and his alone. a smack on the ass, a hand intertwined in your hair. or he sneaks into your dorm room for a pretty little slow dance with you.

+ TSUKISHIMA KEI

even though tsuki’s an open bastard to everyone one around him, he loves you. he can obviously hide how whipped he is for you, but the thing he can’t hide is the crave he was for your lips. who knew a single lick across your bottom lip could cause him to drag your ass into a empty classroom or empty storage closet for a quick make out or even just to kiss on every little sensitive spot on your neck to your chest just to tease you before you get to class

+ BOKUTO KOUTOROU

big baby. two words only, biggest baby when it comes to you. you’re all he’s ever wanted, to hold you, squeeze you, love on you. loving you through neck kisses are one of the things. open space down your throat, pretty little kisses left from under your chin to your collarbones, he’s pretty much of a sweet talker “ so pretty are you? ” — “ I’ll make it up to you baby, mmm I swear it ” pretty red marks left on you, just to make a point

+ MATSUKAWA ISSEI

teasing you in a classroom, he’s an asshole it’s true. but even then you know you love every inch of attention he gives you in public, writing down the notes from him in a class while he’s too busy talking to hanamaki from the table behind him makes him swoon even harder at this point “ oohhuhu, you wrote the notes down for me. thank you doll ” — a simple hand on your thigh, rubbing circles on your skin [ unless you wear tights or pants ] one other hand under his chin, paying attention to the class

[zmbiesuga]

I'VE LOVED EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU THAT HURTS

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

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

notes: i projected a bit oops

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

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

but then he thinks about what his friends said.

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

he just wished they would be as careful as him.

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

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

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

it was fine, really.

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

yeah, that's what got him.

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

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

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

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

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

right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

once he finished, you allowed yourself to speak.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[rivashi]

oversized jacket

synopsis: reacting to their crush wearing another guy’s jacket w/ a TWIST

characters: matsukawa issei, hanamaki tahahiro (ft. kyoutani kentarou & gn!reader)

genre(s): fluff, slight angst, a pinch of crack, jealously, friends to lovers, accidental confessions(?), mutual pinning, college!au | headcanons

cw: swearing, slight manga spoilers if you squint, mentions of bullying, implied toxic masculinity, so-called “nice guy”, mentions of stalker-ish behavior, extremely long, & vvv self indulgent cuz i was emo when i wrote this <3

note: this was inspired from this <3 also, this hcs was supposed to include oikawa and iwaizumi but i had to cut them out. i hope you like it e n way <3

note 2: this is reposted from my old (soon-to-be deactivated) blog: @/levinneheart

Matsukawa Issei

He went to his last class early and was surprised to see you were already there, sitting in your usual chair

This was a first, usually he would be the first to arrived in the classroom and you would arrived after him with snacks in your arms

“I need snacks to survive this long day, you’re welcome to have some.” You’d say to him and you were absolutely right

You and your snacks made him get through the day without a pounding head and a growling stomach as he went home

You were working diligently on something while occasionally popping a cheese-flavored popcorn onto your mouth

He assumed you were working on your assignments in advance for subjects he didn’t have as it was your routine

He clears his throat, catching your attention and making you looked at his direction as he greeted you with a small smile

You were practically beaming, eyes lighting up at the sight of him as you greeted him back cheerfully, seemingly in a good mood

He took his usual seat beside you and you immediately laid your head on his shoulder, sighing in content

He didn’t mind your gesture if it weren’t for the pounding on his heart but he was surprised you hadn’t noticed it yet

To him, you were so out of his league – so kind, so generous, so everything of his ideal type and pretty to look in the eyes too

The way that you two wordlessly and unconsciously leaned in for each other’s touch – absolutely no highs

Just the comfortable silence of enjoying one another’s presences that he longs in relationships

This feeling scared him – terrified him, even. Since he never felt anything like this for anyone before

Little did he know, it was your way of conveying to him with your love language and that the feeling is mutual

It wasn’t long before class started and not long till it ends. The clouds were starting to get grey and dark. Seems like that it’s starting to raining too. You usually like this kind of weather if it wasn’t such a hassle to get home. It’s getting cold too, you thought as you rubbed your hands together and snuggled subconsciously against Mattsun for warmth.

Matsukawa, on the other hand, held the urge to slip his arm onto your waist and pull you closer to him, the urge to press you firmly to his broad chest and bury his face onto your shoulder. His fingers twitched at the thought but he shook the feelings away before poking you once as he excused himself to you before softly nudging you off him to retreat to the restroom.

When he arrived, he deeply sighed with a fist clutching his chest to desperately trying to calm his accelerating heartbeats. He told— more like convinced himself that he will confess after class but you being so close to him was making it harder to remember his memorized lines. He could still remember how you smelt like, the scent of your shampoo mixed in with your favorite perfume.

It was driving him mad at how good you smell. He splashed his face with water from the sink before staring at himself, trying to focus before chuckling to himself. He looks ridiculous right now, his face slightly damped and eyes glaring at nothing but his reflection. He’ll be fine, even if you reject him – he could just play it cool and say it was a joke.

Yeah, right. He thought. That’s just mean.

When he comes back, his seat was occupied by a fellow male student, laughing with you. This would had been fine as you were quite approachable yet he couldn’t help himself but to eye on the unfamiliar jacket you were currently wearing. You didn’t wore the clothing earlier and it looked too big for you to own it.

His mind was racing with the thought of you wearing another guy’s jacket other than his and his feelings were all over the place; mixture of anger, disappointment, and heartbroken. You never told him you were taken and you never really specify that you didn’t like him so he knew he had a chance.

He firmly grabbed your shoulders and glared daggers at the man before he stood up from his chair, cowering away while you turned around to face him with a frown. “What was that for? He was getting to the best part of his joke.”

“I don’t like him and his jacket on you so take it off.”

“What? No, this isn’t his—”

“I’ll exchanged it for mine.” he cuts off.

“No thanks, Sei. What’s this all about anyway—”

“Please, yn. Don’t make me—”

“No is no, Sei. Besides—”

“I like you. Can you now please wear my jacket?”

You stayed silent for a second, stunned at his sudden confession and jealousy over a piece of clothing. “I like you too but this is actually my jacket.”

“…”

“…”

“You’ve got to be kidding me, right?”

“Nope, I tried telling you.” You grinned at him, poking his sides as his eyes widened in realization.

“Oh…” He trails off. “Wait! Did you just say you like me?” This made you chuckle, it made you want to play with him just a little.

“Did I?” You say, teasingly.

He groaned in response. “Although, I must say: you look adorable, being all jealous over my oversized jacket.” He palms his face and that makes you chuckle even more as you grin at him. “My jealous boyfriend.”

Oh god— he doesn’t care anymore and he wouldn’t have it any other way as long as you keep tell him you’re his.

Hanamaki Takahiro

You and Hanamaki met in elementary school and immediately became friends all the way till highschool

Back then, he was smaller than you and got bullied because of his pinkish-brown locks, causing him to be subconscious of it

But you told him otherwise so you protected him and fought against many of his bullies in elementary

During in middle school and highschool though, he grew more taller and confident on his hair because of you

You didn’t had to protect him anymore so you settled on cheering and supporting him from the bleachers during his games

His team would welcome you warmly so it wasn’t a surprise to them that you grew on them, along with Kyoutani

He even developed a soft spot for you, causing you to call him: Kyou without any honorifics since you two had grown close

At first Hanamaki was ok with it, you’d love making new friends to bond with, but at the same time he was envious

Back then he was your only friend and now, your attention was everywhere but him and you two were seeing each other less

You tend to stick with Kyoutani these past few days, ever since the two of you became classmates and seatmates

And he was gonna graduate soon, leaving you behind to focus on your studies and club activities to be able to graduate

That thought saddened him, he doesn’t want to be apart from you and yet he also doesn’t want to chain you down

Hanamaki has now graduated and is working nearby Aoba Johsai, sometimes you’d go in there to buy snacks on your way home or to shelter yourself from the hot breeze of summer air and into the cool temperature of the grocery store.

Either way, he was just happy to see you in one of his jobs and sometimes catching up with you about your life and vise versa. You, however, went there to escape your persistent admirer who just can’t seem to understand why you would say no to him.

It was turning into your safe haven where you can relax and breathe without worrying about him watching your every movement. And today wasn’t one of those moments, you’ve had a sinking feeling on your gut so you stayed close to Kyoutani and asking him to walk with you home.

“Just to be safe, Kyou.” You say as you clinged tightly onto his arm. He grumbled in annoyance but didn’t protest against it, instead he let you gingerly drag him to the usual grocery store where Hanamaki worked. Not knowing that your unwanted admirer was following the two of you.

The sounds of bells ringing alerted Hanamaki of of new customers. “Welcome to— oh, hey Kyoutani and y/n.” He says with a smile, grateful to see familiar faces inside the empty store as usually around this time of night was less busy than in the morning and afternoon.

“I’m going to the restroom, yell when you need me.” Kyoutani informed to you, squeezing your arm before gently prying away from your grasp. You nodded with a smile and leaving you alone with Hanamaki. You stood there still, occasionally fidgeting as you looked around anxiously.

“What’s wrong?” He couldn’t help but asked.

“I—” You were cut off but the entrance’s bells ringing and you instantly stiffened at the presence of the newcomer.

“There you are, (l/n). You’re so hard to keep track of. You’re lucky that I’m such a nice guy, going out of my way to do this. And it’s all for you.”

Hanamaki noticed you slightly trembling from the corner of his eyes and as he was about to say something, he was interrupted by a cough from none other than Kyoutani. “Who the fucking hell do you think you are?” He asks, almost growling.

“Her admirer.” The self proclaimed nice guy proudly said.

Kyoutani scoffed before turning to you. “Is this creep bothering you, (n/n)?” He asks, draping a jacket he was holding over your shoulders.

Your admirer look between you two. “I don’t believe you would date someone like this, (l/n). You can do better by dating me.”

“Actually,” Hanamaki spoke up. “they can date whoever they want as long as it’s not you. Now, go before I call the police for suspected illegal activities.” He warned with venom laced in his tone while crossing his arms over his chest.

The boy huffed. “You’re not that pretty anyway!” He hollered at you as he stormed out like a kid throwing a tantrum.

You released a heavy sigh of relief before thanking Kyoutani and Hanamaki multiple times for helping you finally get rib of that guy.

“No problem, (y/n). He was just jealous you two look cute together.” Hanamaki teased, hiding his pain of the thought of you being taken.

“We’re not dating.” You chuckled as Kyoutani grunted in agreement.

“And the jacket?”

“It’s mine, I told him to hold it for me.”

“Oh.” He paused for a second before laughing out loud. “I assumed you two were dating since the two of you are pretty close.”

“Well, yeah. Didn’t Mattsun-senpai tell you that we’re cousins?”

“…”

“…”

“Nope, he didn’t tell me anything.” That jerk. He cursed.

“Were you jealous of Kyou, Makki-senpai?” You teased with a smirk.

Fuck it. This was his last chance. “Yeah, I was! Now, I’m all embarrassed and stupid because I used to like you.” He rambles while you look at Kyou and he shrugs before leaving the store.

“Why didn’t you confess before?”

“You know why!”

“And it only took my oversized jacket to make you confess to me? You’re unbelievable.” You shook your head in disbelief. “I liked you too, idiot!”

“Oh… WAIT, WHAT?!”

[suguruverse]

hi! idk if it’s being requested already or in the works but could i request being best friends with mattsun and makki?

— BEING BEST FRIENDS WITH MATTSUN AND MAKKI

authors note - hey yall.. long time no see. don’t expect me to come back yall i just wanted to clear my drafts a lil bit since this has been sitting in the drafts for like a year 🫣🫣

fem!reader

- lemme tell you this friendship hands down definitely has the most platonic flirting EVER

- AND THEY'RE SO BAD WITH IT AS WELL

- they unironically call you mamas or bae/baby girl

- but they are the best to have at parties and shit OH MY GOD

- they can tell with one look if you're uncomfortable and will be by your side immediately

- unlike the others, they actually encourage you to talk to other people

- but that doesn't mean that they won't wear terrible disguises while following you on dates

- you can bet your ass that they will throw it back on you every chance they get and they expect for you to catch it EVERYTIME

- they LIVE for making you flustered and purposefully try to make to mad

- they say stuff like "ohh you wanna kiss me so bad" or "oh yeah" bc yk hot boy shit

- nah bc you and mattsun definitely used to hate each other before makki locked you guys in a room together to talk things out and it resulted in you both HYSTERICALLY crying and hugging each other

- you guys have done the thing where you guys go out super dressed up and go to mcdonalds or something

- these stupid bitches pull your bra straps and let go when it snaps you, they think they’re so funny

- they also have no boundaries with you whatsoever for example they will walk into the bathroom while you’re showering and have a full blown conversation with you or walk in while you’re literally on the toilet

- they also say stuff like ‘how often do you shave your pubes?’ or ‘can you check if i have an ingrown hair on my ass’

- sometimes they purposefully dress down so you look extra sexy

- when olivia rodrigo's album came out, you guys all went to makki's place and definitely cried in each others arms

- for some reason they love commenting weird things under your posts like "let me be your best friends to lovers trope" "ur so hot pls be my sugar mommy" "i would hide a body for you" or "i've told my therapist about your ass"

- mattsun's bio on his twitter and instagram is literally "property of y/n"

- makki's bio is "y/n's sugar babie <3"

- PLS YOU ALL THIRST OVER IWAIZUMI TOGETHER AND HE'S SO SICK OF YALL

- also mattsun has a milf of a mother and she's the only reason you and makki come over

- MATTSUN SWEARS UNDERNEATH HIS BREATH AND IT'S SO HOT AHHH

- he also has intense road rage and it's hilarious bc he's the designated driver

- WHENEVER YOU GUYS FACETIME, THEY MAKE IT THEIR DUTY TO TAKE THE UGLIEST SCREENSHOTS OF YOU AND THEY THREATEN TO SEND IT TO IWAIZUMI WHENEVER YOU PISS THEM OFF BC THEY KNOW ABOUT YOUR FAT CRUSH ON HIM <//3

- okay so i feel like makki has obsessions with the most random anime characters and cries over them weekly

- HE IS AN UGLY CRIER AS WELL DO YOU FEEL SO BAD WHENEVER YOU LAUGH AT HIM CRYING

- they love going on wattpad and reading cringey smut stories and depending on how bored they are, they would have competitions on how well they can write their own

- on your birthday, makki sent you a link and it was a you x iwaizumi fanfic

- they love leaning on u for some reason???

- y’all definitely go to playgrounds at like 3 am just because and then just watch makki fly off the swings

- they very much have a ‘what’s yours is mine’ mentality like you cannot eat or own something without them taking it

- they unintentionally yet intentionally grab ur boobs </3 i’m sorry

[atsumwah]

matsukawa issei is the type of man who always wants you in his lap. it doesn't matter if you're too short, too tall or worried about your weight, mans does not care. he likes having to hug you from behind and tuck his head in the crook of your neck.

matsukawa issei is the type of man who sings off key. he sounds horrible but at the same time, kind of cute actually. oh and he doesn't care where or when it is, hell he'll even sing in public and when you tell him to stop because of everyone looking, he'll sing even louder.

matsukawa issei is the type of man that will subtly push you towards the inside of the sidewalk. sometimes you don't even notice it when he does. he's also the kind that will go to the side where the car's coming and hold you by the back to lead you both to cross the road safely.

matsukawa issei is the type of man who will hug you from behind and sway you from side to side no matter what you're doing. he especially likes doing it when you're dressing up for a date night, looking really pretty, and purposely making you both late for said date.

matsukawa issei is the type of man that will get pouty if you're watching a show together and you watch an episode without him. mans will actually be upset and will not negotiate unless you agree to pay up with kisses. the only way he'll forgive you tbh.

matsukawa issei is the type of man that will come in the bathroom while you're showering and do his routine. he could be shaving and just asks you the most random questions ever (sometimes he does join you but only if he has time to spare before you both go to work wink wink )

reblogs are appreciated bbys <33

[priniya]

MASTERMIND. HAIKYUU SMAU.

1. background check!

prev | m.list | next

synopsis. changing surroundings have never been easy for anyone, so when you’re parents send you away to live with your grandparents in hyogo — you’re scared shitless, and nothing seems to be getting better, until a certain setter decides to interrupt your free time.

a/n rinyn meet-up soon! 😄😄😄

taglist: open! (x)

@bakugouswh0r3 @astennu94 @r-xochitl @noideawhothatis @sunarinsbabymomma @emiliaserpe @ellouisa17 @xoxopam4 @jjikyuu

[nabibabii]

favourite things — matsukawa issei

matsukawa issei x fem!reader | smut; fluff; MDNI

SUMMARY: your thighs are matsukawa’s favourite thing. he loves to squish them, jiggle them, rest his hand on them—but nothing makes him happier than when his head is being crushed between them as you scream his name in pure ecstasy.

NOTE: matsukawa is eating away at my brain atm and i’m okay with that. also, this is something i just thought of and idc what you say, mattsun has a thing for thighs. i don’t make the rules, i’m just telling the story.

WARNINGS: smut; fingering; oral sex—fem receiving; reader is afab; pet names—reader gets called baby, pretty lady; mattsun is very obsessed and very protective over reader’s thighs; reader is insecure about thighs—calls them fat and ugly; that should be all but if i missed something, let me know!!

‎‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎╭──────༺♡༻──────╮ 18+ below ╰──────༺♡༻──────╯

he was obsessed with your thighs. it didn’t matter what you were doing—walking, running, dancing, sitting, standing, laying, jumping—he loved them. he would practically drool over them any time he saw them. you had to be careful when choosing your outfits because, if your shorts were just a little too short or a millimetre too small and they squeezed your thighs just right, he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of you.

you’d first noticed around three months in to your relationship. you were sat on the lounge, watching some random movie and he’d just gotten home from work.

“your thighs are so pretty, baby.” he’d mumbled as he lay his head in your lap, fingers tracing small shapes across the fatty skin.

you cringed in response, flicking his hand away, “ew! they’re fat and they’re ugly, mattsun. but i’m trying to lose them, they’ll be gone soon.”

you could picture the offended look on his face clear as day as he stared up at you, hurt flashing through his eyes, “fuck you!” he snapped and you jumped back slightly, “why would you take them away from me? i love your thighs, don’t get rid of them! i can’t live without them!”

you blushed profusely as he littered soft kisses all over the skin you’d always been so insecure about, washing away your hatred for them with each compliment he pressed against them.

even just sitting around, his hand would be on your thigh, squeezing and pinching the soft flesh absentmindedly. he didn’t always touch them with the intention of turning you on, more often than not it was just habitually running his slender fingers over the cushiony tops, tapping and drawing little shapes. at first you though it was a comfort thing but you soon found out he was just so in love with them that he always found his hands being drawn to them.

he loved them so much, particularly when things got heated in the bedroom. he’d always move from kissing you feverishly to trailing his lips down the valley of your chest, down your stomach and to your core. he’d stay there for a while, kissing your thighs teasingly before his lips were on your clit, fingers curling deliciously inside you. the first few times, you’d expected him to use one hand to hold your legs open so that he could have complete control over you but you soon found that the reason he loved to eat you out so much was, not only because of your delectable taste, but because he loved the way your legs would clamp together, his head stuck between them.

it made him feel light-headed and the feeling of your thick legs crushing his head was often enough to have him cumming untouched. it confused you at first and gave you a weird, almost creeped-out feeling but after realising just how much he actually loved your legs, you couldn’t help but start to appreciate his unhealthy obsession.

you quickly began to await the quiet, “fuck me,” that would slip past his lips when you walked by him, thighs wobbling as you went. you began to hope that he would notice the way you’d start to clap them together as you laid with your back against his side, biting your nail as his hand slipped onto your inner thigh and a small smile graced his lips when the other smacked against him. you began to love the way he’d jiggle them together, a satisfied grin spreading across his lips as quiet claps resound throughout the room.

it was no different all these months later as you lay back on his bed, your back arched in pure bliss as his tongue works your heat, your thighs clenched around his head. he hums contentedly into you and you gasp, a choked moan escaping your throat.

“sound so pretty, baby,” he mumbles and the vibrations have you curling in on yourself as you grab his head, pressing it back against your heat.

he pulls back with a grin and you whine as he licks his lips and sucks on his fingers, all while staring at you with a hungry gaze. “and these,” he practically moans as he presses his cheek against your thigh, his hands gently caressing them as he kisses the skin softly, “so fucking sexy.”

you cover the blush on your face with your hand and he tuts, gently grabbing your wrist to uncover your face. “don’t hide, baby. you’re so precious, please don’t be embarrassed of yourself.” he kisses your knee gently and you almost feel tears pricking your eyes before he’s leaning over to press a loving kiss to your lips.

after only a few months of being with matsukawa, you’d learned to love the things that you once hated about yourself and you probably could have never appreciated your chunkier legs without him by your side. he never failed to remind you of how gorgeous you were, whether it be by showering you in kisses and compliments or by desperately devouring your pussy.

to him, you are perfection and he makes sure to remind you of that every single day. it makes him happy to know that you’re learning to love yourself—and that you won’t be trying to get rid of those gorgeously chubby thighs of yours any time soon.

[white-poppie]

hiii I've been kinda obsessed with him lately,, so can i request a platonic oikawa x gn reader?? basically like,, if you wanna do headcanons, you can but being besties with him basically, and a bit of iwaizumi + hanamaki and matsukawa

thank you :))

Go Bestfran!

Characters:  Platonic!Oikawa Tooru x reader (ft.Iwa,Maki,Kawa)

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: none

Writer: @ white-poppie

Song recommendation:  Bestfriend by Doja Cat

HAIKYU!! (ハイキュー!!) 

Listen, two words: Power BSF

Tooru is such a drama queen like that, you guys gossip 24/7 x 365

So clingy trust me when I say this.

His fangirls sometimes get jealous and this boy walks up to them, throws a wink and:

Oikawa: That's my best friend.

Y/N: Yea we're not a couple

Holy you guys are so badass, I can't even comprehend.

When Tooru and you both are free you go to amusement parks together and have ice cream (he always picks the weirdest flavours.)

You, him and Iwaizumi have study sessions sometimes, you end up talking more than studying tho...

Hanmaki and Matsukawa often hit on you (just to irritate Oikawa)

And yes he gets all pouty because, "Ehhh you are my friend, give attention to me only >:("

Maki and Kawa are like those two crackhead uncles, Iwaizumi is the dad figure, Oikawa is the disowned child and you are the...tree (Jkjk) you are the loved child.

You and Oikawa act like matchmakers for almost everyone in the school, you know who likes who and EVERYTHING.

Maki, Kawa Tooru and you end up getting in trouble (whether you like it or not, Okiawa just sort of Drags you everywhere) and Iwaizumi has to bail you guys out.

Like that one time, Oikawa started pole dancing...in a children's park...on those monkey bars.

And you are hiding your face like: idk this dude.

And Maki and Kawa being themselves...they started hyping him up.

and now Iwaizumi is like: idk any of them.

That was until a Karen came along and started fighting, "Oh MY gOd DOn"t YoU kNow ItS a KiDs parK?"

and all of you are like (Ma'am we are kids only...slightly overgrown, but that's not the point.)

Tags:  @rintaroubby @nanaseishiro, @akumicchi, @oikawatoorupdf @dislownini @idowritingandstuff , @bakaface @denkis111 , @jazzylove ,@maybeleftoverjourneys , @lordmypantsaresocool , @futuristicallykawaiiturtle , @kristaline2dmensimp

Reblog/like to give the author a hug (´;︵;)

HAIKYU!! (ハイキュー!!) 

[dragonslayer-5fanfiction]

I read another headcannon saying that Matsukawa can play the piano. And just imagine this:

He's sitting at the piano, and you come in and just watch from the doorway. He's just mindlessly playing through a song, when he notices you. He gives you a bright smile, and hold his hand out for you. You grab it and he tugs you closer to him.

He places a kiss above your bellybutton, and rests his head on you. You run your hand through his hair as he blinks prettily up at you. He pulls away and pats his lap. You sit down and place your hand on his. He begins playing a song, moving your fingers with his. You spend the time giggling at how it feels. He plays your favourite song, he learned just for you while placing kisses to your cheek and neck.

[prettykitty3061]

hey hey hey!! what are your thoughts on the fandom’s portrayal of the seijoh 4 vs YOUR interpretation of them? xoxo, gossip girl 😏

a/n: OMG STOP I DIDNT KNOW HOW MUCH I NEEDED TO GET THIS OMG I LOVE THEM SO MUCH 🙈🙈

a/n 2: just finished writing and doing tags and realized i spelt seijoh wrong the whole time,, sorry :(

MY REQUESTS REMAIN OPEN

-i do not mean any harm to anyone who prefers the fandoms interpretation of the sejoh 4, you are always free to have your own opinions, which is how im able to make this content-

fandoms sejoh 4 is so eh. like its not even four, its like two + two, but all of them, being iwaizumi, daddy matsukawa, and hanamaki, just bully tooru. also like i cant stand the idea that matsukawa and hanamaki dont get along with oikawa because i feel like that is so untrue!!!

MY VERSION OF SEJOH FOUR, NOT FANDOMS, AND NOT CANON!!!

in my opinion i think matsukawa and hanamaki definitely get along, and have more of a bond with eachother than with all of sejoh four, but they are still so heavily bonded with iwaizumi and oikawa.

the four of them played together for so long that its impossible for them to not be bonded. iwazumi, matsu, and maki all played their last years of volleyball together, they were so coordinated, and they had been together at sejoh from the beginning of their highschool years.

now while i said that its so crazy how people overestimate the amount of “bullying” that the boys do to tooru, i do believe there is still some teasing going on. so many of the guys ive grown up with and know are close enough (they dont even need to be close) to just regularly talk about how much either one of them suck in the gym or sports. i cant imagine that the sejoh four dont tease eachother all the time. but its to a point that all of them know how to give constructive criticism, and also know that its just teasing. also in my opinion, oikawa does not think that he is better than others. in fact, i really think that he admires everyone, but still had his own sense of pride.

together, the sejoh boys also know how to talk big shit!! theyre not little boys, and they know when they need to talk to eachother. they know how to talk to eachother about their issues, and trust one another.

while iwa and tooru may be really close, and same with hanamaki and mattsun, they are so united in their memories and the present. also, in groups, theres always this sense of that one person who keeps everyone together, and so many people say that its oikawa, but i really think its mattsun. i feel like hes just that person who can be depended on, and idk. if hes not the glue, then its the dynamic of the group, which is the singular friendships.

while it sounds so corny and childish since its just an anime, i am so proud of these boys, in fandom, canon, and my interpretation of them. they have achieved so much and it made them all great individual characters

————————————————————————

I LOVE U GOSSIP GIRL!!!!

also love all u babies who keep supporting my acc, and im so sorry if im late to any of your requests. i am trying my best to push out content for everyone!!! i know a lot of u guys like my suna content, so im working on some of him + other characters!!!