#matsukawa x you | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

etherrreal · 1 year

Text

“spare me the details”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, so you think I’m charming?”

“I’m walking away now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, how’d you meet this guy again?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In my defense, I was being chased–”

“By what, her six pound toy poodle?”

“Whatever. That’s not my point.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey.”

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

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

“Don’t go.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know why.”

“No, actually, I don’t–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know what I said!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So he does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Issei, I–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Written by: Dawn

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

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sassycheesecake · 8 months

Text

You’re walking down the hallway, ready to take the biology test.

Going over your notes that you prepared yourself with two weeks ago, you mumble under your breath, repeating what blood type is compatible with different types and the differences between viruses, bacteria, parasites and fungus.

When you walk past the janitor’s closet, you don’t see a big hand snatching your wrist and pulling you inside.

Screaming in fear, you drop your learning cards and a second hand clamps over your mouth in order to muffle your screaming.

The door slams shut, and your wide eyes find mischievous brown eyes with a teasing smirk, that you know and love.

Taking his hand off of your mouth,

"Issei Matsukawa! You scared the shit out of me!" You whisper-yell at him, calming down your racing heart and breathing.

"I haven’t seen you at lunch, wanted to make sure my girlfriend is still alive." He grins at you while placing his hands on your waist to pull you closer to his chest.

He already has his volleyball uniform on, the turquoise number 2 almost illuminating the dark space.

"I am really sorry, you know I have that test in a little bit and if I fail this one, my mum will kick my ass." You apologize.

"No worries but I know a way you can make it up to me." Issei lifts his eyebrows in a suggestive matter.

When he presses himself closer to you, you can feel his hard-on through his gym shorts.

Giving him a deadpan look, you turn him down.

"Issei, we have like five minutes. And with you it’s never five minutes. And I am not doing this in a closet with you, I have more dignity than that."

"Then about a good luck kiss? A couple for your test and my practice."

You think for a few seconds, giving into your desires.

"Alright, but only five min-" The ravenette interrupts your talking with a harsh kiss that quickly turns wild and passionate.

His big hands wander down to your things, underneath your school uniform and squeezes them twice, an indication for you to jump.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you told your head to the side to deepen the kiss.

With your tongue sneakily gliding over his lips, he immediately grants you entrance and your tongues begin a war that he wins.

The longer the kiss, the more Issei and you begin to pant and moan.

Tanging your hands in his curly, soft black hair, you tug on it harshly and the Middle Blocker hisses at the sensation and pushes you into the wall.

The school bell rings, signaling that the small break is over and Matsukawa unwillingly parts from you but not fully, until you can still feel his soft lips against your own.

Panting your hands travel from behind his neck to his face, you and the middle blocker still have your eyes closed. The rush of Oxytocin fogging up your brain and the adrenaline rushing through your veins is making your mind race with desire.

"I really should get going, otherwise Mr.Hashita is not going to let me take that test." You whisper, calming down from the passionate kiss you shared with him.

"Yeah, that’d be a real bummer, considering you canceled on me so many times to study for that stupid test." Matsukawa says with a chuckle, pressing one more chaste kiss against your lips and then lets you go.

Opening the door, you fix your hair and top a little bit, trying not to make it too obvious you just had a heavy make-out session with your boyfriend in the janitor’s closet.

Matsukawa doesn’t even bother to fix himself up, in fact, he looks pretty proud to have made out with you with the possibility of getting caught.

"Wipe that satisfied smirk off of your face Issei!" You giggle while shoving him a bit.

He chuckles along with you, picking up your cards that you dropped earlier to hand them back to you.

Thanking him for the gesture, he puts his Aoba Johsai jacket around you, kind of like marking his territory.

As he leans down to give you one last kiss, you’re interrupted by his approaching teammates.

"Did you two just fuck in there?" A familiar voice, that sounds like the Aoba Johsai’s Setter, asks in a disgusted manner.

Squeaking and being startled by the sudden noise, you and Matsukawa turn to see Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Hanamaki and Yahaba with grinning faces staring at the two of you. With the exception of Iwaizumi, who looks like a disappointed parent.

"Really Issei? The janitors’ closet?" Iwaizumi scolds the Middle Blocker with a frown.

But Matsukawa is in such a great mood, he doesn’t care.

"It ain’t my fault that I got game and the rest of you don’t." Matsukawa shrugs and makes his way together with Maki to the gym.

"Listen up you little shithead! I’ll have you know that all the girls in this damn school want me!" Oikawa calls behind the middle blocker.

Ignoring the Setter, Matsukawa continues the path with Maki on his right.

"Did you really just have sex with her in there?" Maki asks intrigued.

"Didn’t have enough time for that. And I never half-ass things. Pretty sure Oikawa would have bust his balls in like two minutes."

Maki laughs at that and both teens make their way to the gym in a great mood, especially Matsukawa seemed to play extremely well that afternoon.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyū!!#hq x reader #hq fluff #aoba johsai #matsukawa issei #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa x you #matsukawa fluff #matsukawa x y/n #haikyuu matsukawa #issei x reader #issei matsukawa

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nishisun · 1 year

Text

DOCTOR’S PET — MATSUKAWA ISSEI.

paring: optometrist!issei x reader

summery: you should’ve known something was up when you stumbled across that sketchy advertisement... dr. matsukawa is a fucking nut job.

warnings: nsfw, dub-con, fingering, vaginal penetration, manipulation, uses of vibrator, he’s like in his 40’s, reader is in her 20s. PLEASE READ AUTHORS NOTE BELOW.

a/n: suprise! i am not back, but i realized that i had 14 drafts so i am queuing them because i will soon deactivating this blog, but i’m not sure yet. i’m not sure if this work is finished, so i apologize for any cliff hangers my works have! this was originally written back in late 2020, so excuse the writing if it’s horrible. thank you for the support i received in this blog! i do plan on creating a new blog so this work may be transported to that one if it seems familiar, but i will also make note of that to avoid confusion.

It should not have gotten to this.

Seriously. You’d think that as medical school enrollments expanded the system would do the best they could and resolve the physician shortage by adding more residency slots in the Miyagi Prefecture. That wasn’t the case at all.

In fact, all the residencies and medical internships you’ve applied for haven’t gotten back to you. It’s been over a month now, and the only emails you’ve received from them are ‘I’m sorry to inform you’ letters and ‘waitlisted’. Not even one acceptance letter. It sucked.

Just when you lost hope, you stumbled across an article for one that was unrealistically near you.

‘Medical Internships Available for Upcoming Optometrist! Miyagi’s Hospital Center: Medical Training Program ran by Dr. Matsukawa Issei, MD. Location: Dr. Matsukawa’s Office.’

It sounded way too good to be true... and it was only a 15-minute drive from your place..? Out of mere curiosity, you clicked on the advertisement without a second thought and ah — there it was; a catch.

Only one person could be accepted.

Well, desperate times call for desperate measures, so you filled the application anyways and hoped for the best.

And for some odd reason, you were actually selected.

You don’t know how, but you actually got chosen. Now here you are, in front of his office in your car. You take one last anxious look in your rear-view mirror, reassuring yourself that you looked somewhat presentable before gathering your belongings and heading to the entrance.

“Here goes nothing.”

Once you push past the doors, you couldn’t help but notice how empty the lobby was. There weren’t any patients waiting, and the T.V used for entertainment purposes was off. Maybe the office was closed? You brush these thoughts off before turning your head to be greeted by a lady. She seemed young, about the same age as you or a little bit older.

“Hello?” she calls, she doesn’t bother looking up at you as she continues to type away on the computer. You turn your head around swiftly to face her, offering an awkward smile.

“Oh! Uh, Hi! I came for Dr. Matsukawa’s internship program?” The woman makes a face that you can’t read — confusion, you might say? Either way, she does an excellent job concealing it as she rolls a pen and a few papers your way.

“Fill these forms out for me and I’ll tell Dr. Matsukawa that you’re ready for him.” she explains, giving you a tight lipped smile.

You take the papers and pen, taking a seat on one of the many comfortable chairs in the room. You finished filling out the form rather quickly, getting up to return the papers back to the front desk, until you suddenly hear bickering. It sounds like the lady that was at the front desk not too long ago and oh, a male voice too. Although you shouldn’t, you let your curiosity get the best of you.

“Hey, is everything okay here — oh.”

It’s the doctor himself. He raises an eyebrow at you, his attention that was once on the lady was now at you, then looking down at the folders he was currently holding, rummaging through them. He looks back at you, using his pointer finger to gently lift up his glasses.

“You must be L/N?” he clears his voice, as if he wasn’t just arguing with the lady next to him seconds ago, waiting for you to reply.

Dr. Matsukawa is extremely attractive.

The hell? Since when did you have a thing for older men? Is that wrong to say? He looks like a very busy man, even though there were no patients currently in the office. There’s a huge height difference between him and the lady and the way he has to look down at you leaves you with no choice but to close bite on your bottom lip.

Your eyes wander down to his lower body, meeting the dress shoes he was currently wearing, and from there, your eyes take in the tight black pants and the way his fitted navy blue shirt outlined his abs slightly, his white lab coat topping the outfit.

“Ms. L/N?” The man calls out again, his fingers gripping the stacks of files in his hand a bit tighter as he gave you a concerned look. Your head jerks up immediately to face Dr. Matsukawa, your stomach doing flips when you make eye contact with him. “Ms. L/N Y/N is your name. Am I correct?”

You gulp, eagerly nodding your head. “Uh, Yeah — Yes. Yes, that’s my name.” You stammered. You break eye contact with the doctor, eyes drifting to the lady standing next to him.

Dr. Matsukawa flashes you a bright smile before giving you a firm nod, lifting his arm to direct you to another room. “You can follow me — Is everything alright, miss?”

“Y-Yes!” You mindlessly shake your head, struggling to move your feet from where they’re planting. You’ve suddenly realized how unprofessional you’ve been acting and it’s because of the extremely hot doctor in front of you.

“Please, take a seat.”

He’s taken you to a.. patients room..? You were expecting an office. You’re assuming this is where he’ll be discussing the activities you’ll be doing today. You take a seat in the medical recliner, examining the room as he brings out your information in a folder. “Your files show that you’re a really good student, who has a great amount of experience on leadership skills and opportunities,” he affirmed. He looks up at you, shifting in his seat as he continues to look over your papers.

“Uh, Yes, that’s true. I can name some—“

“Let’s get straight to the objective for today, shall we?” The way he suddenly interrupted you by slamming the folder together causes you to flinch, there’s a sudden mischief in his eyes that cause your throat to dry up, and now he’s staring at you. Like boring his eyes on you waiting for a response. You swallow hardly before nodding, causing him to grin. “I’ve already reviewed everything I need to know about you. I don’t want to waste another minute.”

He’s nice. Weird, but nice. Which doesn’t help because his odd (yes, odd) behavior was turning you to someone who you weren’t, which was shy. You’d like to say you’re a pretty confident and outgoing person who’s able to maintain eye contact and keep a conversation going with others, but for some reason, this man in front of you was different.

“I’m going to be running some test. I hope that’s fine with you?” He announced, leaning foward while adjusting the nobs on the lamp. You should be asking questions, you should, because you didn’t know this interview would require “tests”. You don’t even care to at this point, you’re just grateful you got selected, so you nod your head. “Perfect. I’ll start by checking your eyesight.”

“Uh, Dr. Matsukawa, forgive me for overstepping , but what do these test have to do with the internship?” The doctor hums in acknowledgment, leaning down so he can get a good look at your eyes through the lens.

“Can you see the dot?”

You squint your eyes so you can see the so called ‘dot’ he’s talking about more clearly “Yes, I can, but—“

“This was mentioned and is definitely part of the internship Ms. L/N. Did you not read the form?” He sighs, writing some notes down in his paper and you can’t even feel guilty because you’re too distracted at how big his hands are, huge knuckles and veiny. How can someone’s hand be so attractive?

“Well, I did but I just didn’t really see where it said that on the form, so I didn’t think that you’d be running some ‘tests’.” You quote his words from earlier, nervously chuckling. He sighs again.

“I’m going to test your eye pressure.” He stands up, holding an object similar to a pointer. He moves towards you, pointing to the red dot on the wall across the room.

“Keep your eyes focused on the dot and try not to blink. This won’t hurt, but it may feel uncomfortable.” You nod once again, resting your hands on your lap as Dr. Matsukawa squats in front of you so he’s eye-level with you. He gently places his hand in your knee, causing you to flinch.

Seriously, get your shit together.

“Are you alright? He basically snickered, you’re pretty sure he can feel the warmth radiating at your core.

You nod your head, eyes locking into the dot, cheeks heating up and turning into a bright pink shade. Dr. Matsukawa positions the equipment right in front of your eye before pressing a button that activated the device to blow a puff of air into your eye, causing you to blink.

“We’ll try again.” He maintains eye contact, refocusing the device on the center of your eye as his hand that was on your thigh slight reaches higher, going under your pencil skirt causing you to flinch again.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, letting out an extremely nervous sigh.

“I’m going to hold your head so you don’t pull away. Is that alright with you?” He explains, giving you so soft smile.

You nod your head rather keenly. Your heart flutters at the contact, the grip on the back of your neck not too tight but strong enough to prevent your head from moving.

He starts the device again, watching you fight the urge to blink. He smiles when you don’t blink, removing his hand from the back of your neck.

“Good girl. You just need someone to keep you in place, yeah?” his other hand rubs your thigh and you couldn’t help the whimper slips out your mouth at the nickname.

Dear God help you. It’s like this man knows that you find him attractive.

“Yeah..” you answer, he stands up with the equipment, writing some notes down on his note book before closing it.

“We have one more test and that’ll be all for today.” He leaves the room for a short period of time and comes back with the other lady from before, she’s carrying a box and places it right next to you.

Dr. Matsukawa follows behind the lady, taking a seat across from you. Why the hell did they look like they were about to dissect your body?

“Do you know what’s inside that box?” he beamed, you turned your head to look at the box the lady had placed next to you, tilting your head and slightly squinting your eyes so you could get a better look at the text.

‘Magic Wand — Vibrator Sex Toy.’

What. The. Fuck.

Dr. Matsukawa grins when he watches the harsh breath you take, the lady next to him staring to the side with a bored look.

“W...What’s that for?” You eyes remain staring at the box.

He grins, “You do know what this is used for, right Ms. L/N?” You stare back up at him, swallowing hard.

“Is... Is this why you put these restraints on me?” Your eyes are filled with pure terror, your breathing becoming uneven when Dr. Matsukawa chuckles darkly. What was going on in your head when you willingly let him tie your hands up?

“No need to fret,” He attempts to touch you and you only flinch in response. “What, you can’t handle getting touched by a vibrator?”

You cringe at his word choice, shaking your head when he takes a closer step at you.

“Also,” He’s hot in your face, your breath hitches when you remember that you two aren’t the only ones in the room. You look over to the lady with a pleading look, but she only looks away. “I’ve noticed the way you’ve been looking at my most naughtiest places, Ms. L/N.”

“No... No! It’s not like that I swear!—“

He swiftly faces away from you and you bite your bottom lip. “But of course, if you’re not comfortable with this, I won’t force you. I’m not into stuff like that anyways.”

It’s only then you finally remember to breathe, you shift uncomfortably when he places a hand in your thigh.

“But you’re a good girl, right? You know how to follow directions.” It takes a while to register his words, you’re too busy in your own world, wondering how the hell you got yourself in this position. You don’t even notice his hand was cupping your cheek.

“You see,” he starts, “I don’t want to hurt you.. I just want to study you. That’s all.” He assured with that charming smile that could get you to obey his every order.

So you nod.

“Perfect!” he gleams, “Nina, would you mind stepping to the side for me?”

She follows his request, clipboard in her hand. You give her an unsure look and she looks like she’d rather be anywhere else but here. You don’t blame her.

“Nina over here took her test 3 years ago,” He announces, “Took it like a pro, isn’t that right, Nina?”

She glared at Dr. Matsukawa, before nodding, “Yeah.”

“She’s a very hard working doctor and very successful, too. You should see her when the office is open! Handles the patients so well.”

He continues to ramble and proceeds to remove the object from out of the box, placing a battery and flicking the switch on.

“Wait!” you yelp, he switches off the vibrator and gives you a confused look. “What— what does this have to do with the internship? And what were the eye test for?”

“I’m going to review your vision before and after you achieve an orgasm.” he deadpans.

Your head cocks to the side, in fact, you feel light headed and you wonder how he said something like that so casually.

“You see, I’ve noticed that you’ve been holding your breath quite a lot every since you’ve gotten here, and I can’t help but wonder if you’ll do the same while your vagina is being stimulated.” you blankly stare, waiting for him to continue. “If this is true, and you do hold your breath while you orgasm, you could temporarily lose eye sight, or receive blurred vision due to the pressure that would be building up in your eyes.”

Help. Someone help. This man has lost his fucking mind. And the lady, Nina, why the hell is she not saying anything? Did she seriously go through this too?

Your jaw gapes as well as your eyes, staring at Dr. Matsukawa with a frightened look. Maybe you shouldn’t have applied for this internship. And then the dam finally breaks.

Honestly, you’re surprised you didn’t start crying when he restrained you. You’re absolutely too frightened to even fight back at this point, and even though he said you didn’t have to, you’re too afraid to speak at the moment. If you knew you’d meet crazy doctors like this, you would’ve quit med school.

“This causes your blood vessels in your eye to burst and trigger a small hemorrhage and temporary vision loss.” You let out a sob, “But don’t worry, it’s temporary.”

Like that was supposed to help.

He gently pats your head before placing a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s okay if you don’t want to do it, baby.”

You face the floor as he rubs his thumb softly over your cheek. You find comfort as he cups your cheek, it’s almost as if it’s only the two of you there.

“I’m sorry if I frightened you, dear. I’m just so very excited because I’ve never met someone so... Inspiring,” You lift your head up to face him, and he lets out a soft chuckle. “With such leadership skills you have, I’m truly greatful you accepted this internship. I honestly find a strong interest in you, too.” His hand travels down your sides, pushing you closer to him.

“Really?” it’s barely above a whisper, breath hitching when his lips softly brush against yours. He nods against your lips, just about to bring them in before he hears a soft ‘tch’ coming from Nina.

“Ah, no need to be jealous, Nina. You’re still in my top 3.” He pulls away from you to grin at Nina, who doesn’t respond. She’s awfully quiet. You don’t know why, but those words sent a pang to your heart. Top 3? Does he have affairs with all his co-workers? Just how many girls has he done this to?

He turns back to gave you once again, delicately trailing his fingers on your sides. “You think you can be a good girl for me?”

You bite your lip, looking up at him and it’s the way he’s staring at you with such adoration — like he’s the only person you can count on.. You just want to make him proud. So you nod.

“Yes.”

You can see the way his eyes light up, and you can’t help he smile to yourself. It finally feels like you’re being useful for once.

“If you ever need me to stop, call out ‘strawberries’”

“Okay.”

Dr. Matsukawa grabs the small vibrator once again, turning it on to the lowest setting, testing the power of it in his finger before lifting your skirt up and placing it against your panties.

“Hah!” you gasp out, your hands pull hard against the restraint, causing Dr. Matsukawa to grin.

“Subject 5 has been restricted for a approximately 10 minutes now. An increased blood flow towards her genital has been detected after realizing what was about to happen to her.” Nina speaks into the recorder.

Subject 5, really?

He moves the wand from your clit, down to your folds, as he watched you writhe underneath the restraints.

“Poor baby,” he pretends to pout, “I don’t think you’ll be able to fully enjoy yourself being l restrained like this. You need to comforting, isn’t that right?”

“Mmm! Mhm.”

He chuckled to himself, before helping you remove all of your clothing, discarding your panties as well as your bra. Your nipples began to harden as the cool air got in contact with them. As he was pulling down your panties, he kneeled down and inspected the slick covering your pussy.

“Subject 5 has increased vaginal discharge, signifying that her body is preparing itself for sexual intercourse.” Dr. Matsukawa calls out before licking a long stripe on your pussy. Your hips buck, causing Dr. Matsukawa to chuckle as he rubbed the side of your thigh.

You weren’t one to get embarrassed easily, but it’s not everyday a hot doctor almost 2x your age sees you naked.

Your head bolts up when you realize Dr. Matsukawa was doing the same, removing his lab coat as well as his right-fitted navy blue shirt, to reveal nibs insanely fit body.

“You’re drooling, Ms. L/N.”

565 notes · View notes

heich0e · 2 years

Text

matsukawa issei proposes to you on your second date.

sort of.

he says it so casually, so effortlessly. like he was commenting on your choice of shoes, or the weather.

"i think i could spend the rest of my life with you."

you play it off as simple flirtation, albeit a little forward, but that's just who issei is. brazen. unfiltered. constantly toeing a line between jest and sincerity.

time goes on. casual dates turn to dating, two apartments become one, lives apart become a life together.

issei brings up marriage all the time. you always laugh and play it off.

on your first anniversary he tells you he was looking at rings a few days prior. you tell him you want a diamond so big it makes your finger ache under the weight of it.

on your birthday two years in, he remarks that the botanical garden you two visit for the day would make a good wedding venue. you tell him you'll only marry him in the spring when the flowers are in bloom.

on christmas after three years together, he tells you he can't wait to watch your children open gifts. you tell him he needs to improve his gift wrapping before that happens.

and on a random tuesday four years after your second date, matsukawa issei sinks to his knee in your shared living room. it's raining outside. you're wearing your pyjamas. the diamond on the ring is sparkling in the blue light of the television.

"i wanted to wait for a special occasion," he says, and this time you know it's not a joke, that it really never was, "but I've asked you so many times by now, on holidays and birthdays or whatever, I guess there's not much point."

outside the rain patters against the window panes. issei's face is full of hope.

"so, marry me?"

#matsukawa issei x reader #matsukawa issei x you #matsukawa x you #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa issei #hq drabble #hq writing #writing

1K notes · View notes

sutaro-min · 8 months

Text

[10:15 pm]

game over. game over. game over.

Matsukawa Issei stares, dead eyed, at the screen in front of him as a deep and guttural wave of despair sinks into his gut.

"idiot!" issei winces and pulls his headphones slightly away from his head as makki's voice blares out at full volume. "we could have won that round if you just listened to me!"

issei leans back and crosses his arms over his face. "that loss was all you man. I was the one actually being good at the game."

"no way you're delusional like that..." Issei stretches with a yawn, tuning out makki's usual post-game rant, when a pair of arms slide over his shoulders and gently wraps around his neck. he looks up to meet your eyes that peek out from behind his obnoxiously pink gaming chair.

"hey," you say and lean forward to rest your chin on his shoulder. "lost the game?"

"yeeaah, but maybe if I get a kiss I'll win the next round?" smirking, issei reaches up to draw his fingers through your hair. he settles his hand down on the back of your neck, and you roll your eyes as he gently pulls you closer to him. your lips are mere centimeters apart, and a gleeful issei closes his eyes to get his well deserved incentive.

"issei, is that a girl?!!?"

issei jerks his hand in surprise and accidentally knocks your heads together. "ow." you mutter. your hand goes up to feel the now tender red spot growing in the center of your forehead. in a huff you untangle issei's hand from your hair before moving toward his bed where all your study books have been strewn about.

an indignant issei, also rubbing his head, pulls his headphones back on.

"yes, makki, that was a girl." he rolls his eyes.

"no way. Matsukawa Issei actually has a REAL girl in his room?" Makki laughs. "the boys are gonna go crazy."

issei rolles his eyes. again.

"so who is it?" issei could just imagine makki leaning forward in his chair, eagerly waiting for the chance to embarrass issei in their "seijoh boys" group chat. issei refuses give makki that satisfaction.

he grins. "your sister."

makki goes dead silent.

"hello? you there makki?"

through his headphones, issei hears makki breathing in and letting a steady breath out. "yeah right issei. be serious--who is it?"

"mm, i'm pretty serious about this." issei glances over toward where you are by his bed, putting your textbooks back into your backpack. he furrows his brows and frowns when you stand up to swing your backpack over your shoulder.

"just because you go to the same university as my baby sister does NOT give you the authority to be making jokes like this--"

"hold on man, I gotta deafen for a sec."

"wait what? come on, just give me some serious answe--."

issei clicks the deafen button on his chatting client, effectively shutting up his best friend, and swivels his chair around to fully face you.

"what did makki say?" you ask. issei stands up and walks toward you.

"he didn't believe me when I told him his sister was here." he shrugs.

you hit him gently on his shoulder. "don't tease my brother like that. he was always more weakhearted between the two of us."

Issei spreads his hands out in front of him. "hey, I was only telling him the truth." you shake your head, laughing.

issei tilts his head to one side, then pulls you into his chest. "you leaving?"

you sigh and push your face closer into his shirt. "yeah I should head out before it gets even later. I have an early class tomorrow so..."

issei sighs, resting his chin on your head, when he suddenly pushes back and looks down at you--mischief twinkling in his eyes. He quickly slides his hands into yours, and pulls you back toward his desk. Issei sits down in his chair and nestles your legs in-between his own. due his sheer abundance of height, even sitting the two of you are still almost eye level. "how about this:"

you raise a brow.

"if I win this next game," he continues, "we have a sleepover."

you let out a full laugh this time. "oh man, you are funny huh?"

"hey," issei wines "I'm serious!"

you smile, and your eyes catch on a stray hair that rests against issei's forehead. you reach to brush it back, but issei grabs your hand before you can and intertwines his fingers with yours. "hm? whaddya say?"

you look at him. his eyes give the barest hints of "puppy dog" while still maintaining that cool "I don't care what you decide" smirk. but what melts your reserve is the slight tinge of pink that not-so-subtly creeps up his ears.

"fine," you give an exaggerated sigh, "i'll stay, but only if you win the next round."

issei grins and swivels around toward his setup. He un-deafens in the chatting client and pulls his headphones on again. "hey man you there? I'm back."

"Finally! where have you been?" makki exclaims in neglect. "I've been waiting for the past, like, 15 minutes now."

"sorry man, had to talk to my girl for a sec." issei quickly clicks around the screen to get his character ready, "down for one more round?"

"you know I am, but hold up for sec because 'your girl'?? c'mon man don't bs and just tell me who you have over. i am your best friend you can trust me!”

issei wordlessly turns his mic up to you in response, his eyes never leaving his screen. you lean forward closer to the mic. "issei wasn't lying," you say.

makki falls silent again.

"ready to start the game?" issei's mouse hovers over the Start Game button.

"_____???? WHAT. ARE. YOU. DOING?" Makki shouts. "I'M BOOKING A TICKET TO TOKYO RIGHT NOW AND YOU BETTER BE--"

"okaay, starting!" issei gleams as he once again effectively shuts up his best friend, or (also more accurately) shuts up your brother, and clicks Start Game.

[ an: oop that was longer than i thought it would be so i did not read this through again. just brain rot]

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laiiaaa · 1 year

Text

SEEMS PROMISING — MATSUKAWA ISSEI

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

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

length: 3.6k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, that one—he’s a little…”

“Little bit much?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really? What’s he say about me?”

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

“Yet?”

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

You lend him a blank stare. “Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hajime, you mean?”

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

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

“Well, you smoke.”

“Yep.”

“You wear a nice corduroy jacket.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, that’s three things.”

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

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

“You want to trade information?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s your favorite song, and why?”

“That’s two questions.”

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

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

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

“Okay, then think about it now.”

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

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

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

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

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

“And what would that be?”

“That smoking’s a no-go?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

“To the first part, or the second?”

“The first.”

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

“Romantic?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, “He was a dick.”

“That sucks.”

“Thanks. How about you?”

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

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

“It’s alright.”

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

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

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

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

“It did.” You look at his lips.

“I don’t even know you.”

“No, but you could.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That I did.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you nod, “Probably.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he thinks it seems awfully promising.

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

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nishinoyaswife4 · 5 months

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How He Reacts to Other Men Hitting on You

Seijoh

Oikawa

He’s stepped away for a second. He hasn’t even been away for a full minute yet. But in the same fashion that you get no peace when his fans are around, he gets no peace in any other setting with you. He looks over to where he left you at the bar to find his seat occupied by another man, who by the looks of it was laying in on pretty thick. It wasn’t hard to see you leaning away the closer this man got to you. Oikawa quickly ends the conversation, and heads back to you. The closer he gets the more he can hear the shitty pickup lines coming from this man.

“So are you here with someone?”

Just as you’re about to answer you feel an arm around your shoulder. You look up to see your handsome boyfriend giving this stranger his best smile.

“Hello darling, who is this?” There is venom in his words. “My girlfriend has the habit of making friends wherever she goes.”

The stranger looks taken aback, and excuses himself shortly after. Oikawa doesn’t leave your side again that night.

Iwazumi

He’s convinced you to come to the gym with him to keep him company. He’s now fully regretting asking you as he watches a man approach you at the water fountain. He talks to you just a little too long for Iwa’s tastes. He likes to lie to himself and say he’s not the jealous type, but you know better. Especially now that you see him coming up behind the man who has been taking up your time.

“Oh! This is my boyfriend!” You tell the other man as Iwa approaches. “Maybe you could talk to him about a good place to start on your weightlifting!”

Iwa glares down at the new man, very obviously scaring him. The man lets out an awkward laugh and suddenly remembers he had to be anywhere else. Iwa decides that's enough of the gym for the day and takes you home. He wont answer you when you ask what's wrong but you don’t complain since he hasn’t stopped cuddling you.

Hanamaki

Man is panicking. He saw the guy approach you while you were shopping. He had stopped to look at something a few feet away, and now someone had swooped in on you. He stands there just staring at the two of you for a moment. Wondering if that was a real laugh or a fake one you had just given the stranger. It's not until you look at him making a face and rolling your eyes that he approaches.

“Hey baby, are you ready to go?” He approaches.

He throws a casual arm over your shoulder like he wasn’t just picturing you dumping him for this guy after a 5 minute conversation. He looks this guy up and down before greeting him like a friend all while holding your hand.

Matsukawa

You’re at a house party with him grabbing a drink when this random man approaches you. You make polite conversation trying to cut it short once you grab the drinks and head back to your boyfriend who is just lazing about on the couch. The man that was talking doesn’t seem to know how to read social cues or is just blatantly ignoring them follows you. He's still talking and you try to stay polite answering with a tight smile. You hand a drink to your friend and boyfriend before trying to take a seat still aware of the guy behind you. Before you can walk to your seat you feel a hand on your shoulder. You look back at the man in horror.

“Hey man don’t touch my girlfriend,” You look over at your boyfriend who is still lounging with a chill expression.

“This is your girlfriend?”

“Yeah man and I don’t want to repeat myself so take your hand off her yeah?” His expression doesn’t change. “Come here baby.”

You walk over to where he is and he pulls you down to sit in his lap. He doesn’t let you leave his side again that night.

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atsumwah · 1 year

Text

matsukawa : why aren't you dating anyone?

y/n : because i have strict parents. why aren't you dating anyone?

matsukawa : because you have strict parents ♡

#best friends in love♡#my tags for self ships are coming ard !!#haikyuu incorrect quotes #matsukawa incorrect quotes #matsukawa fluff #matsukawa imagines #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu headcanons #matsukawa headcanons #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #matsukawa x you #matsukawa x reader #hq matsukawa #loml<3

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loveephia · 1 year

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you sat in front of your small desk mirror, putting on your pearl heart-shaped earrings. you were getting ready for your date with issei matsukawa, who stood behind the mirror, watching you with nothing but pure love and adoration in his eyes.

from your focused expression paired with your little tongue sticking out in complete concentration, he could only think about what a cute girlfriend he has..

matsukawa reaches over to pinch one of your cheeks. "you're so adorable." he says. you huff, a small pout forming on your lips. "issei, don't distract me."

he lets go of your pinched cheek, hearing you mutter a small "thank you" in response.

#haikyuu fluff #haikyuu!!#hq x reader #hq x y/n #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x y/n #hq hcs #tooth rotting fluff #hq #haikyū!!#haikyu x reader #haikyuu #issei matsukawa #haikyuu matsukawa #matsukawa issei #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa x you #matsukawa x y/n

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meowdarame · 2 years

Text

𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐤𝐞!!

pairings: dice’s dream 6-some x fem!reader (atsumu x iwaizumi x fem!reader x matsukawa x ushijima x tendou); no m! x m! interactions, only m! x f! interactions; afab!reader, she/her pronouns

synopsis: tendou brings the boys back together to celebrate your birthday. you thought you had seen the extent of satori’s playful antics, but this one takes the cake— literally. a sequel to three holes, two hands.

warnings: EXPLICIT CONTENT. 18+ MINORS DNI. 6-some/gangbang (but everything is consensual); mentions of food (a cake in specific, but no actual eating occurs); some bondage with rope (atsumu’s part); consensual nude photo taking; cum (lots and lots of cum!); thigh fucking; titty fucking; face/throat fucking; unprotected sex; pull-out method; creampie; cum swallowing; mild impact play (a few ass and tit slaps); overstimulation; mild degradation; lots of praise; please lmk if there’s anything that i missed! (there’s a lot going on in this fic!)

word count: 7.1k words

notes: a postponed installation for my birth month event! you can read this as a stand-alone but i recommend checking out the prequel to this, which is linked above. happy birthday to the sweetest boy ever and the love of my life, satori tendou <3 reblogs are super appreciated!

All you really wanted for your birthday was a custom box of chocolates from your husband’s shop, a bouquet of baby pink roses from the local florist, and a back massage that maybe leads to something more.

But after opening your front door and hearing the scuffling coming from further inside your house, you know that your husband has more plans for your birthday— a lot more, judging by the amount of shoes neatly lined against your wall that belong to unknown owners.

“Shh! I think I just heard the front door open! She’s home; everyone be quiet!”

Satori’s hushed whispers echo off the walls of the foyer of your shared home. After taking off your shoes and placing them on the rack, you follow the sound of your husband’s voice through the hallway, turn the corner to enter your dining room, and find a sight that you hadn’t seen in six months.

There, sitting silently around your mahogany dinner table, are the members of the “starting lineup” of your dream 6-some that happened almost half a year ago— an encounter that left your body sore and splattered with your husband’s and his friends’ cum. Your face burns hot when you remember the whole ordeal, but your husband’s sing-songy voice pulls you out of your dazed state.

“Happy birthday, my love!” Satori jovially raises both of his arms in the air, a playful and prideful expression plastered on his face; it fills up the entire room with a lighthearted mirth, alleviating some of the embarrassment that you feel in the pit of your stomach. Shaking your head and chuckling lightly to yourself, you trudge over to your husband and wrap your arms around his waist, enveloping his thin frame in a tight hug.

“Satori, you really need to start giving me a heads-up before you pull stunts like this. You know that I hate surprises,” you tease, lightly poking his side and causing him to let out a small shriek. Once his giggles fade, he turns you around and wraps his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder. His lips are dangerously close to the sweet spot on your neck— so close that his warm breath tickles the shell of your ear as he softly pants.

“So what now, sweetheart?” He murmurs, his lanky arms squeezing your waist tighter as he continues on. “Would you prefer that I send them home? I could do that for you, if that’s what you want. But then you wouldn’t get your birthday gift…”

Your eyes scan across the room, drinking in the image of the four attractive men seated in front of you. Atsumu looks as gorgeous as ever, his soft platinum blonde locks shine like sunlight and pair beautifully with his lightly tanned skin. Issei and Wakatoshi look broad and brooding, per usual, but both men wear drastically different expressions on their handsome faces. Wakatoshi stares down at his neatly-folded hands on your table, but Issei’s eyes haven’t stopped scanning your body since you first stepped into the room. His raven irises travel up and down every curve and ridge of your body, making his lips curl up into a sly smirk and his dick jump in his pants. And Hajime— has he gotten bigger? You think that your eyes could be deceiving you, because honestly, you thought that it was impossible for your high school crush to get even more buff than he was since the last time you saw him. But with the way that his shirt clings so tight to his biceps and pecs— almost appearing like it’s second skin— you have no doubt in your mind that he did put on some additional muscle weight.

“I never said that,” you reply coyly. Turning your face to your husband, you plant a kiss against his soft, squishy cheek, making his ears tint pink. “I love the gift, but I’m just saying that for next time, give me a warning, babe.” The tips of Satori’s ears now burn as red as his hair at the implication of your words, and you bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing at Satori’s cuteness.

You bring your attention back to your esteemed guests, and sarcastically ask, “So what’s on the agenda for tonight, boys? I’m assuming it’s another one of Satori’s experimental trysts that he wants you guys to act out with him.”

Some snickers are heard from around the room, but they soon fade as Satori ushers you to the empty seat at the head of the table. A white pastry box rests ominously in front of you, and butterflies swarm in your stomach as you wait for one of them to speak.

“Tonight,” Satori’s voice breaks through the stiff silence. “We eat cake!” He cheers, gesturing to the box.

You scoff. “Is that some snarky euphemism for eating my ass, Satori?” You narrow your eyes at him, sizing him up, but his confident resolve doesn’t falter as he shakes his head.

“No, no,” he assures you and raises both of his hands in surrender. “There really is a cake in the box! Open it and see for yourself if you don’t believe me!”

Sighing, you reach out and pull the mysterious object closer to you. Shaky fingers gripping the sides of the cardboard box, you lift its lid and are met with a shocking sight— you.

At least, it’s a photo of you. Naked. On a cake.

You immediately recognize the picture as one that Satori took of you in post-orgasm bliss— you’re splayed out on your bed, his cum painting creamy white strings across your tummy. That night was definitely one to remember. You had received a promotion at your job earlier that day, and to celebrate, your husband had made you cum on his tongue three times and around his cock another four, congratulating you for being his smart and pretty girl.

The cake is cut into five even sections. The first shows your fucked-out face, a dopey smile spreading from cheek to cheek and hooded eyelids covering your lust-filled irises. In the next section, your neck, shoulders, and tits are printed onto the cake in colorful frosting. You’re pushing your tits together with your hands, letting your perked nipples peek through the gaps in between your fingers. The slice beneath it depicts your tummy, and whoever frosted this cake took extra care to make sure that Satori’s cum noticeably stands out against your sweaty, glistening skin. The fourth section puts your pussy on display, which is shyly tucked behind the plush flesh of your inner thighs. You remember instinctively pressing your thighs together when Satori took the photo, slight embarrassment pulsing at your core— the same feeling that’s overtaking your body right now. The final and closest slice to you displays your thighs down to your knees, and just from looking at the photo, you remember how badly your flesh stung for the next few days because of how hard Satori had bitten and sucked all over them.

“Satori,” you breathe out unsteadily as your mind begins to cloud with anger. “What the fuck?”

He places both of his hands on your shoulders, thumbs gently rubbing circles into the tight muscles. “Don’t you love it, sweetheart? You look so beautiful,” he sighs dreamily, overcome with admiration at the lewd image before him.

You ignore his question. “Satori, did you really send a nude photo of me to a bakery and have them print it on a cake?” Your voice is so low and calm that it fills the room with unease. The men uncomfortably shift in their seats, averting your furious gaze that burns a hole straight through the sweet treat.

“What? Absolutely not, my paradise!” Your husband frantically explains. “I’d never let anyone else see this side of you— it’s for my eyes only! Well, I guess it’s for their eyes now, too,” he rambles and gestures to the men seated in front of you. “Y’know, because they’re looking at the photo on the cake, b-but that’s besides my point!” He takes a few deep breaths to calm himself down before continuing on, “A friend of mine owns a bakery, and he owed me a favor, so I asked him if I could use his cake printing equipment!” He states excitedly, a toothy grin spread across his face.

“It took me all day yesterday and today to make it,” he admits, this time much more sheepishly. He stares down at his hands, fiddling with his fingers and pretending to pick at the imaginary athletic tape that’s wrapped around them— a habit that he picked up during his years of playing volleyball but was never able to break, even after almost a decade of not wrapping up his digits. “I wanted it to be perfect, just like you,” he murmurs, raising his eyes to meet yours. The corners of his lips curl upwards into a shy smile, and the genuine look on his face makes your expression soften. This adorable idiot really does make your heart softer than a sponge cake.

“Satori, I love it,” you grin, tears threatening to spill out of the corners of your eyes. “It’s a little ridiculous and bizarre, but what would my husband be without his beloved eccentricity?” You tease, taking his hand into yours and kissing his knuckles. “Thank you, and you did a wonderful job! I look amazing and so realistic! You know for a chocolatier, you’re really good at frosting cakes.”

He laughs at your joke, “Oh please, no need for flattery.” He waves away your protests with the flick of his wrist. “The printing machine did all the work!” He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead. “But thank you, sweetheart. I’m glad you like it.”

Your heart booms violently in your chest, and your body caves into the irresistible urge to kiss him. You wrap your fingers around his neck, pulling his face further down until your lips find his. Satori kneels down on the floor, trying to bring himself closer to you and settling himself in between your parted knees. He allows you to take control, letting your nails drag gently along his scalp and your teeth nibble teasingly at his bottom lip. When he grabs your hips and pulls you flush against his crotch, you let out a startled gasp, which Satori muffles with his mouth.

“Ahem.”

Your impromptu makeout session is interrupted by a cough coming from the end of the table. Turning your attention to the direction of the sound, your eyes are met with Atsumu’s blushing face.

“Ya know, I don’t mind watching,” the blonde starts, a smirk beginning to take shape across his lips. “But if y’all are gonna fuck in front of us at the dinner table, can I at least change out of these uncomfortable jeans? It’s kinda gettin’ tight down there.”

Satori chuckles and shakes his head. “Sorry, we just got a bit carried away.” He rises to his feet and helps you to do the same. “We should continue on with the festivities, though. My love,” he whispers to you with equal parts sweetness and mischievousness, making your pussy flutter. “It’s your birthday, so you get to do the honor of passing out the cake.”

You blink twice at him, confused by his words and still trying to process them. Knitting your eyebrows, you ask for clarification, “What do you mean? Like randomly or…” Your voice trails off, but Satori is quick to fill up the empty space again.

“However you want,” Satori answers, a devilish grin spreading across his delighted face. “You can do it randomly, if you’d like, or you can be methodical about how you pass it out. Either way, just give each of us a slice of cake.”

Hesitantly, you nod your head and obey your husband’s instructions. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

“Good,” Satori hums, pleased. He takes a seat at one of the empty chairs, and adds on, “Close your eyes, boys! And no peeking— it’s only fair that we respect the birthday girl’s privacy as she decides what she wants to do with her birthday gift.” The rest of the men follow Satori’s command and shut their eyes tightly, leaving you to stare at the daunting task before you.

His words reverberate in your ears and fester in your mind. “It’s only fair that we respect the birthday girl’s privacy as she decides what she wants to do with her birthday gift.” What could he possibly mean by that? Static clouds your mind as you try to search for an innuendo hidden beneath his words; still, you know that there’s no point in trying to decipher his cryptic message, especially not when you have five men patiently waiting to be served their dessert.

Your hands immediately fly to the cake knife and fork, picking up the slice that has the image of your pussy on it. Plopping the sweet treat onto a plate, you place it in front of Satori— it’s only fair that your husband receives the slice with the most intimate part of you. Next is the section with your tits, and you give that piece to Wakatoshi. You’ve known him the second longest, and he used to be a frequent invitee to your college sexcapades with Satori, so it makes the most sense to you to give him a slice with an overtly lewd image as well. The other three slices are assigned at random— Hajime receives your face, Issei your tummy, and Atsumu your thighs. The blonde setter’s smirk settles deeper into his cheeks when he hears the ceramic plate clink onto the table in front of him, and you know that he’s savoring every moment of Satori’s little game.

“Okay, everyone has a slice,” you announce, dusting your hands off. “You can open your eyes now.”

The men all lift their eyelids at the same time. You follow their eyes as they examine their cake slices. A mixture of reactions erupt from around the table— some of the men have flustered expressions plastered on their faces, cheeks flushed pink and mouths gaping open, while others wear a smug grin, chuckling lightly to themselves.

Satori is the first to speak. “I knew you’d let me have your pussy,” he pouts, faux sympathy dripping from his tone. “I know my darling angel so well.”

You open your mouth to speak, but Issei interrupts you. “Fucking finally!” He groans. “Last time I just got your hand, which I’m grateful for— don’t get me wrong. But I always wondered if you feel just as good as you taste.”

What the hell are they talking about? They don’t give you any answers though, as they continue to ramble on.

“I don’t know, boys. I think I won— I am a thigh guy after all,” Atsumu pipes in. He rests his hands behind his head and leans back in his chair, satisfaction riddled all over his face.

“I lucked out,” Iwaizumi murmurs underneath his breath. He looks like he’s in a state of shock; his jaw has been gaping from the moment he opened his eyes. “Can’t believe you really let me have your face.”

A hushed “thank you,” is all Wakatoshi says before you’re finally able to get a word in.

“What the fuck are you all going on about?” You demand, hoping that they’d finally fill you in instead of confusing you with their evasive responses.

“Sweetheart.” Your eyes dart to your husband, and he’s wearing his signature sly grin as he continues to explain. “The body parts on the cake slices that you gave us— that’s where we get to cum.”

Your jaw goes slack at your husband’s revelation. Honestly, you should have known his intentions from the beginning— him giving you a cake with your nudes on it, him making you serve each of them a slice, them being so excited after seeing what portion they received. All of these were little clues that should have filled you in on Satori’s twisted agenda for tonight, but you were too clouded with your preconceived judgments to be able to jump to that conclusion.

You thought you had seen the extent of Satori’s playful antics, but this one definitely takes the cake— literally.

“Satori,” you start slowly as you try to collect your thoughts. “This is…”

“Creative? Hilarious? Super fucking hot?” He suggests a variety of adjectives, but you reject all of them.

“Strange,” you conclude, before adding on. “But I’m down. You baked this beautiful cake for me, and you flew out all of your friends. It’d be a waste if we didn’t actually get to use my birthday gift, wouldn’t it?”

Satori runs his tongue along his bottom lip. “It would be a waste,” he coos, standing up from his chair. “So let’s get this party started.”

…

Everything is happening so fast.

In the blink of an eye, six different piles of clothes are scattered across your bedroom floor, and you lie naked on top of your plush bed sheets— your entire body bare and vulnerable from the wandering eyes that are quickly growing drunk off of the ethereal image splayed before them.

“Who do you want to go first, sweetheart?” Satori whispers in your ear, his cold fingers sending shivers up and down your spine as he drags them along your waist. You think through your response for a few seconds, before confidently replying, “I want Hajime and Atsumu to go first.”

“At the same time?” Satori asks, surprise evident in his voice, but his shock quickly subsides when you nod your head.

“I should have known,” he adds on, this time in a taunting tone. “My sweet wife loves acting like a stupid little whore for some good dick.”

His words should hurt, but they just amplify the heat that you feel in your core. Crawling over to the center of the bed, you get down on all fours and place your weight on your forearms and knees. You feel your slick sticking to the inside of your thighs as Hajime takes the spot in front of you and Atsumu kneels behind you, running his tip along your glistening folds.

“I’ve missed this cute fucking ass,” Atsumu praises, delivering a slap to the soft flesh. You let out a startled yelp, and he laughs. “Say, Hajime,” he adds, addressing his senior in front of him, “Why do we keep getting partnered up in situations like this? First time was that session six months ago, and now this!”

“Who knows?” The ex-ace replies, running his thumb along your bottom lip before forcing it into your mouth and pressing down on your tongue. “Maybe she just likes it when we fuck her together.” He shrugs.

His green eyes stare down at you, lust swimming in his sage irises. He bends down so that he’s only a few inches above your face, and whispers, “You’re really gonna let me cum all over your pretty face?”

You eagerly nod your head and suck around his thumb, mewling around the thick digit. The two men’s filthy words make your entire body tingle, and you begin to swivel your hips back to meet Atsumu’s shallow thrusts, pressing his length harder against your throbbing clit.

The pretty setter delivers another harsh slap to your ass. “Be patient, princess,” he chides, kneading the stinging flesh with his massive palm. “Ya made us wait while ya were passing out the cake slices, now it’s yer turn.”

“Satori,” the blonde calls out to your husband, and Satori’s ears perk up at the sound of his name. “Ya got any rope?”

Satori’s eyes flash down to meet yours, waiting for your confirmation. When you nod your head and let him know that it’s okay, he reaches into a bin underneath your bed and pulls out a bundle of red, silky rope. He hands the braided threads to Atsumu, who begins to unravel it.

“Keep those gorgeous thighs squeezed tight for me, doll,” the setter commands, and you press your thighs together as hard as you can. Atsumu begins wrapping the rope around your mid-thigh, twisting the silk threads around your legs several times for extra security. Once he deems his handiwork to be sufficient, he ties it off with a sturdy knot, leans back on his haunches, and admires his creation.

“Fucking perfect,” he breathes out, wiping the sweat off of his brow with the back of his hand. He leans down and kisses your asscheeks, then he slides his cock in between your pressed thighs. At the same time, Hajime taps his leaky cockhead against your cheek, forcing your attention back to him.

“Open up, beautiful,” he murmurs softly to you, before pushing his tip into your awaiting mouth.

“Fuck,” they both hiss out in unison, throwing their heads back and letting pleasure enwrap them. Hajime slowly eases his cock into your mouth, but Atsumu wastes no time, already building up his pace as he fucks into your thighs. His nails dig into your ass, squeezing and gripping onto the flesh as he pulls your body back to meet his thrusts. Hajime wraps his hand around the back of your neck, coaxing you to take more of him in until he bottoms out. It’s hard for him to keep your nose pressed against his trimmed pubes though, with the way that Atsumu is manhandling your body in pursuit of his own high.

“Atsumu, stop fucking hogging her,” Hajime complains, flashing the athlete an annoyed look, but the setter just laughs in his face.

“Just means that ya gotta time yer thrusts with mine,” Atsumu spits back. You can’t see his face, but you can just picture the sly smirk that’s settled onto his lips. “Ya don’t need to be so gentle with her— I’m sure she’d love it if ya fucked her pretty little throat ‘til it’s sore. Ain’t that right, sweets?”

You enthusiastically nod your head around Hajime’s shaft and hum, the vibrations shooting up his cock and giving him goosebumps. Looking down at you, his heart rate picks up when you stare at him with innocent doe eyes, and this image is what pushes him over the edge, allowing himself to give into his lustful cravings.

“You ready?” He asks, but you don’t even have time to respond. His hips fly forward into your face, sending his tip crashing against the back of your throat. A shrill scream gets caught in your throat, the muscles contracting and vibrating around Hajime’s tip. The brunet bites his lip to stop himself from cumming on the spot, and once he finds composure, he begins fucking your mouth. His trimmed, prickly pubes tickle your nose and chin with each thrust; his cockhead fills the entirety of your throat canal, forcing you to breathe through your nostrils. Tears threaten to spill out of the corners of your eyes from the lack of oxygen, but you do your best to try to blink them away— you don’t want your watery, blurry vision to obstruct your view of the gorgeous sight in front of you.

Hajime’s eyebrows are knit as he concentrates on matching Atsumu’s frenzied pace. A pink tint graces his cheeks and ears, and sweat trickles down his temple and neck, adorning the red hue that creeps up his torso. His biceps flex as he wraps his fingers around the back of your neck, pulling your face flush to his pelvis in rhythm with Atsumu’s offbeats. But the most beautiful sight are his intense green eyes— they’re fixated on the way his thick length disappears into your mouth, only to reemerge glistening with saliva from between your swollen, parted lips.

Everything feels so hot. They’re relentless, not allowing your body any time to recover from their staggered thrusts. Your arms and legs desperately want to give out, but you muster every ounce of strength left in your body to keep yourself upright. You concentrate on the pleasure that’s bubbling in your tummy to distract yourself from how tired you feel.

“Atsumu,” Hajime groans when he feels your throat constrict around him. “I’m close. How about you?”

“Same here,” the setter breathes out, his hips beginning to stutter as the knot in his core begins to snap. Atsumu leans forward so that his lips press against the shell of your ear, and he whispers, “Cum with us, doll. Bet ya want us to fill ya up at the same time. Don’t ya, beautiful?”

His filthy words force your euphoric high to collide into you, and your thighs shake uncontrollably as pleasure overtakes your body. Atsumu’s fucks you through your orgasm, his tip nudging your clit and sending sparks of electricity up and down your spine. It quickly becomes too much for you, and with all the strength in your body, you push yourself forward to escape from his overstimulation— leaving Atsumu’s cum to splatter all over the backside of your thighs and Hajime’s to shoot straight down your fluttering throat. Wide-eyed, you swallow his seed to the best of your ability, but some of it still dribbles down your chin when he pulls his softening cock out of your mouth.

“I said that you could cum on her face, not down her throat,” Satori calls out from your left. The brunet just chuckles and runs his thumb along your cheek and chin, collecting his cum and feeding it back into your mouth.

“I thought so too,” he hums, watching you as your tongue licks the thick digit clean. “But I guess tonight has just been full of surprises thus far, hasn’t it, angel?”

You nod, and Hajime pulls his thumb out of your mouth with a ‘pop.’ “Satori,” you start, voice slightly raspy and hoarse, “Don’t get mad at him. It’s my fault— I didn’t give him enough time to pull away.”

Atsumu chimes in from behind you, and you feel his large, calloused palms playing with his cum and spreading it around on your thighs. “Technically it’s my fault since I was a little too rough with her.” He leans down, littering kisses along your lower back and asscheeks. “I can’t help it, though— she’s just so, so good to me.” He emphasizes his words by pressing one final kiss to the small of your back before untying the rope’s knot, freeing your aching thighs from the uncomfortable position.

“Whatever, it’s fine,” your husband responds with a slight lilt in his voice, his bottom lip jutting out into a cute little pout. “It’s her birthday anyways, so I’ll let it slide.” He replaces Hajime’s position and kneels in front of you on the bed, bending down and planting a kiss to the crown of your head. Cupping your face and forcing you to look up at him, he asks, “Who’s next, my love?”

“Toshi and Issei,” you immediately reply, and Satori’s pout turns into a frown.

“Why do you always make me go last when we do these types of things, my love?” He mumbles, so quietly that only you can hear him.

“You always tell me to savor the sweetest parts at the end,” you whisper, even softer than Satori did. “I’m just following your advice, handsome.”

With your reaffirming words, that bright smile that you love so much spreads across his pretty features. “I love you. Did you know that?”

You giggle and lightly nod, “I love you more.” Gesturing your head to the other men who’ve begun to chatter amongst themselves, you add on, “Now go tell Toshi and Issei to bring their asses over here.”

When Satori leaves your side, you collapse onto the bed, lying flat on your stomach. You close your eyes for a split second, relishing this brief period of rest before your body is pushed to its limit once again. This moment is fleeting however, because as soon as you’re settled into the plush cotton of your comforter, a pair of large hands flips you over onto your back.

“Wake up, sleeping beauty.” Issei smirks down at you, his thick eyebrows cocking upwards. “We can tell you’re tired, so we’ll do all the work for this round— just take what we give you.”

A lazy smile creeps up on your face and you limply nod your head. “I appreciate that, Issei. You’re so generous,” you tease, running your fingertips down his arm.

“No need to thank me,” he cooly replies, placing one of your legs on his broad shoulder and wrapping the other around his waist. “You gotta save your energy for Satori— all of us know that we’re just warm-ups for the main event.”

Gripping his cock with his hand, he runs his fat tip up and down your slit, collecting some of your slick before pushing it through the first tight ring of your pussy. Your breath hitches at the intrusion, and Issei quickly removes his hand from his shaft and finds your clit, rubbing gentle circles to distract you from the stretch. You whimper softly when he slowly begins sinking himself deeper into you, and after a minute, he’s fully sheathed himself into your cunt, his cock nestled deep in your velvety, warm walls.

Mind hazy from all the pleasure, Issei speaks without thinking, “Yea, you definitely feel as good as you fuckin’ taste.”

You don’t even have time to quip back a snarky remark, because soon a set of toned, tanned abs comes in between you and the ex-middle blocker. Your eyes travel up Wakatoshi’s torso, and he looks down at you with a shy and soft look on his face— a stark contrast from his typically stoic expression. He straddles you, his muscular thighs resting on both sides of your stomach and his heavy cock leaking precum from his sensitive slit.

“Toshi,” you coo, collecting some of your spit onto your fingertips before wrapping your hand around his cock, giving it a few slow pumps. “Do you remember when you, me, and Satori used to do this back in college?”

The burly man chuckles lowly, taking your other hand and bringing it up to his lips. “Of course. How could I forget?” He breathes out, pressing a kiss to the inside of your wrist.

As you continue your conversation with Wakatoshi, Issei continues toying with your clit, swiping the swollen bud at an excruciatingly slow pace. The ex-middle blocker kisses your ankle, causing your next words to sound more like a whimper when they slip past your lips.

“Do you still think about those times, Toshi?”

The ace chuckles lightly to himself, scooting himself forward on your body to nestle his thick cock in between your tits. His large palms knead at the flesh, and he exhales a sigh when his thumbs run over your perked nipples.

“Yes,” he hisses out after spitting a glob of saliva into the crevice between your breasts. “I think about them a lot,” he admits, void of the shy demeanor he had earlier— his tone and movements exude confidence as he begins to grind his dick into your soft tits. You mewl as he squeezes them together, and lewd squelching sounds fill the room when he gets a decent pace going.

Once Wakatoshi is fully settled on your torso, Issei begins rocking his hips back and forth, continuing to languidly rub your clit with expert precision. His tip effortlessly grazes your sweet spot and kisses your cervix with each thrust, and he soon reduces you down to an incoherent, babbling mess. Your head swims with equal parts lust and desire, and your chest heaves as you begin to breathe erratically, doing everything you can to keep yourself from losing control.

“Missed these gorgeous tits so bad,” Wakatoshi growls lowly. He delivers a light slap to the flesh, making your body shudder upon impact. His dick throbs when you place your hands on top of his, aiding him in squeezing your tits together. You stick your tongue out, lapping at his tip with every roll of his body, and it makes him throw his head back and groan at the sensation.

“Toshi,” you mumble with your tongue still lolled out. “Cum for me, baby.”

His eyebrows furrow as his body lurches forward, his hips stuttering as his orgasm washes over him. Staccatoed grunts escape past his parted lips, and the sound makes your heart beat even faster in your chest. His thick cum oozes out of his slit in spurts, painting your tits with strings of creamy white. A glob of his cum sprays onto your tongue though, and the pink muscle eagerly retreats back into your mouth to swallow his slightly salty, slightly sweet seed.

Wakatoshi climbs off of your body and lays by your side, one arm resting under your neck with the other caressing your face. His soft lips press light kisses to your cheek and temple, whispering praises and sweet nothings into your skin. His eyes flicker down to your breasts, admiring his work; he pinches your nipple between his index finger and thumb, and when he lets go, there’s a sheen of his cum staining his skin. He feeds his fingers into your mouth, letting your tongue swirl around his thick digits to clean them off.

The ace replaces Issei’s hands with his, swiping your swollen nub at an abusive pace. Your back arches off of the bed, and your hands wrap around Wakatoshi’s wrist, trying to ground yourself. Your face contorts into a wince, your body still overstimulated from the previous round.

“Fuck her harder,” Wakatoshi commands, his olive green eyes intensely gazing at Issei’s handsome face. “She can take it— there’s no need for you to hold back. Right, darling? You said that you’ll take what he gives you,” he coos, pressing his lips against your temple and letting them linger there.

You nod frantically and open your eyes, eyelids drooping and vision hazy as you stare at Issei. With your consent, he reels his hips back so that only his tip remains in your fluttering walls, then sends them crashing forward, his balls loudly slapping against your ass. You gasp upon the sudden and harsh intrusion, but Wakatoshi kisses you hungrily, muffling your mewls and moans with his lips. You feel even more full than before, the only thought in your mind is how good Issei is making you feel.

Issei continues this slow and rough pace, his wet lips traveling up and down your ankle and leaving a trail of his saliva on your skin. You reach out to him, clawing your nails along his defined torso. Your fingertips don’t miss the way that his abs twitch under your touch, and you can tell that he’s close— and you are, too.

“Issei, please,” you pant out, feeling your orgasm looming over you. “Want you to make a mess of me.”

Wakatoshi pinches your clit, and with the shock sends you over the edge. Your walls clamp down around Issei’s thick cock, an off-white ring of your cream coating the base of his dick. Biting the inside of his cheek, he holds off his orgasm for as long as he can so that he can fuck you through yours. It quickly becomes too intense for him though, and he pulls out of your cunt to shoot his cum all over your stomach, mixing his seed with Wakatoshi’s on your sweaty, sticky body.

“That was fucking amazing,” the ex-middle blocker chuckles as he bends down and presses a kiss to your clit. Your body jolts at the action, and it makes his smirk spread wider on his pretty face. “Thank you for making me feel so good.”

You can’t tell if he’s talking to you or your pussy, but it’s not like you even have time to ruminate on his words— as soon as the two men stand up from the bed, a familiar pale, thin frame fills up your field of vision.

“Say cheese!” Your husband cheers, holding a polaroid camera in his hands. You throw your fingers up into a loose peace sign and smile, and your husband chuckles cutely when he clicks the camera’s shutter button. Once the photograph fully prints, he pulls it out of the camera’s slot and kisses the film.

“It’s not even fully developed yet but I already know that you look so sexy,” he sighs in admiration, his crimson irises fixated on the photo. “This is definitely going in my wallet.”

You laugh at your Satori’s silliness, and he leans down to kiss you. But before he can fully press your bodies together, your hand pushes back against his chest. “Wait,” you rasp out, effectively stopping him in his tracks. “I’m all sticky, ‘Tori. I can go wash myself off first, if you want.”

The redhead grabs your wrist and tosses your arm to the side, collapsing his body onto yours and smothering you with his warmth. “No need to, princess. You know I love it when you’re filthy.” His lips crash into yours, and all you can do is melt under his touch.

You wrap your legs around his waist, and your hand snakes in between your bodies to wrap around his cock. Rubbing his tip up and down your slit to collect your wetness, you mewl when his tip bumps into your clit. Your hand strokes his length a few times to spread your juices before he sheathes himself into you.

Satori whines when he begins to shallowly thrust into you, his desperate little whimpers fill your ears and shoot straight to your cunt. You bury your face into his shoulder, hiding yourself when tears begin to stream down your warm cheeks. He feels his skin quickly dampening though, and he pulls back to press his forehead against yours.

“You’re so beautiful,” he pants out, continuing to grind his hips into yours, his cockhead massaging your sweet spot with each movement. “I love you so much.”

“You’re even more beautiful, ‘Tori. I love you too,” you giggle in between sniffles. One of your hands runs through his shaved buzz cut, your nails gently dragging along his scalp, while the other wraps around the back of his neck, firmly holding his face inches from yours.

You swear that there’s no prettier sight on this earth than Satori’s eyes— they’re so rich in color, a gorgeous scarlet hue that rivals the finest rubies in vibrance. His eyes are always so animated, so readable, and you can see all of his emotions swimming in his irises. All the love, admiration, joy, and gratitude that he feels for you is carefully packed into every tender look that he flashes you, and you can’t help but wonder how you lucked out with such an amazing husband.

Your lips lock with his, your tongues dancing with each other and muffling each other’s needy cries. You pull away momentarily, a string of saliva connecting your swollen lips, and you press a kiss to the tip of his nose, making a pink blush creep up on his cheeks and the tip of his ears.

“I’m yours and only yours, ‘Tori,” you whisper, so delicately that only he can hear you. The sound of sweaty skin slapping against each other shelters this intimate moment from the rest of the world, and it feels like it’s just you and him in your bedroom. “Want you to fill me up. Want all of you.”

Satori shuts his eyes tightly as he cums, angelic moans filling your ears as he pumps you full of his cum. Your body follows him soon after, your walls involuntarily contracting around him and threatening to push him out. You feel so warm inside as he empties himself into you, both of you mumbling indiscernible I love you’s and thank you’s. As his hips begin to slow down, he begins to pepper kisses all over your face, his soft lips wiping away the tears on your wet cheeks. He pulls his flaccid dick from your pussy, and you flinch when you feel the heat seeping down your thighs. Rolling onto his side, he cradles you in his arms and cups your face with his palm, caressing your cheek with his thumb.

“That was quite the show you put on for us, guys.” Issei’s deep voice pulls you away from your post-orgasm bliss, summoning you back to reality.

“Sorry,” Satori puffs out, chest still heaving as he tries to catch his breath. “We got carried away and kinda forgot you were all still in here.”

The ex-middle blocker throws his head back and a chuckle erupts from deep in his chest. “It’s fine. Like I said, we all knew that we were warm-ups for the main event.” He gestures to the other men sitting around the bed, calling them over to follow him. “Let’s give these two lovebirds some privacy.”

Issei turns his attention to you once more. “And happy birthday, gorgeous.” He winks as he opens the door for the rest of his friends.

As the men file out, you hear Atsumu’s hushed whisper of “Do you think that Satori would give me a copy of that polaroid photo he took?,” to which Hajime promptly responds with a slap to the back of the setter’s head.

“You’re really pushing boundaries, Miya,” is the last thing that you hear before the wooden door slams shut, leaving you and Satori to bask in the newfound comfort of silence.

“Satori,” you sigh as you bury your face into his neck. “Can we go shower? I’m all dirty.”

“We will, my love,” he assures you, gently patting the back of your head. “Let’s just savor this moment for a little bit longer.”

You hum as you nod your head, caving into your husband’s wish. You scoot yourself closer to him, shuffling around to find the most comfortable position, when a startled gasp interrupts your much needed rest.

“Oh! I almost forgot to give you this! Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

Satori sits up right on the bed and reaches into your nightstand, pulling out a custom box with all your favorite chocolates from his shop, baby pink roses that are in full bloom, and a red slip of paper that reads in bold, black ink: USE ME TO CLAIM A FREE MASSAGE FROM SATORI AND HIS MAGICAL HANDS. REPEAT USES AUTHORIZED. VALID UNTIL: FOREVER.

You chuckle when you see his gift, and you press a soft kiss to his cheek to show your appreciation. “How did you even know that this is exactly what I wanted?” You ask in between giggles.

His smile settles deeper into his cheeks, and interlacing his fingers with yours, he murmurs, “What can I say? I guess I just know my darling angel so well.”

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