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loveushijima · 6 months ago

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devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes | matsukawa issei (mattsun) x reader

where you want nothing to do with mattsun but he wants everything to do with you.

fluff, involved talks of religion but not serious at all, veryyy very very mild cursing | gender neutral reader

Despite the hot air coming in through the opened classroom windows with summer rearing its head into the Miyagi Prefecture, you were still left shivering and shaking sitting beside Matsukawa Issei.

You had hoped to be assigned sitting beside one of your friends in class — or just anyone but him for that matter — but of course God turned a blind eye on your prayers and the Devil himself interrupted with his own intercession and now here you sat, beside Matsukawa-san. For the rest of the year.

What a great way to start your final year at Seijoh.

To say you were scared of Matsukawa-san would be a dire understatement. He scared the absolute living shit out of you.

If the Devil had a son, his name would be Matsukawa Issei, and he’d be the scariest person you would ever have the pleasure of meeting. From his intimidating looks to his frightening blocks on the court, and the way his veins would pop out of his neck and forehead when Oikawa-san annoyed him a step too far, there’s no doubt at all that he is the living, breathing reincarnation of a demon from the underworld.

You wholeheartedly think that out of everyone in class, he’s most likely to become a serial killer after graduation just based off his look.

You wondered if today’s hot, summer air brought a sense of familiarity to Matsukawa-san, seeing as he had probably clawed himself up to Seijoh from the fiery pits of the underworld. You looked at him as he listened to the English teacher with a bored expression, head leaned onto his right palm as he lets out a small sigh out of boredom.

His eyes suddenly dart to you.

You let out a small squeal as you immediately turned your head to the front of the classroom. You feel heat rise to your cheeks as you pretend to write in your notebook. So this is how you die — at the hands of “voted most likely to become a serial killer after graduation”.

Issei stares at you as you feign innocence anxiously, as if you hadn’t just been caught staring at him. He hopes you were at least looking at the good side of his face.

He smiles to himself.

Issei thinks you’re an angel sent from above, the truest beauty known to mankind. He’s seen the way you help others. You never hesitate to initiate small acts of kindness. He’s seen you at the local food bank nearby his house, volunteering your time on the weekends there and never without a smile on your face. He’s seen you surprise your friends in class with handmade paper flowers and a small cake from the bakery nearby the campus whenever it was their birthday. He’s seen you rush from one end of the school to the other end just to catch your classmate who forgot their study materials under their table.

Issei would daydream about finally going up to you one day and striking up a conversation with you, maybe about your studies? Or how your volunteer work at the local food bank has been going? But then that would give away how he’s been observing you there and you might start to think he’s weird. Issei has so many ideas on how to start a conversation with you and yet none of them seem good enough. But alas, his throat dries up and the words die out at the tip of his tongue when you’re around. So he ends up chickening out anyway.

Issei has wondered if impressing you through his actions would’ve worked better. During one of his games, he saw you in the stands, awkwardly standing beside your friends as they cheer loudly (mostly for Oikawa).

He thought you looked absolutely beautiful, handcrafted by God and sent specially for him.

Issei has never played better than he did during that game, landing block, after block, after block — consecutively! Your eyes on him was all the motivation he needed to get through both sets victoriously and with a boosted confidence in his stride. After the game you were nowhere to be seen though.

Oikawa seemed to have caught wind of his little infatuation with you and started giving him shit for it. He really did live up to the crappykawa nickname. Iwaizumi was right. However, Oikawa has since learned to keep his mouth shut after a particular incident:

“Mattsun! Isn’t that your darling over there?” Oikawa exclaims as you walk past them one day on campus. Issei has never been more embarrassed in his life and started beating the shit out of Oikawa.

Anyway all this to say, Issei thinks you’re a saint. Though in a constant state of nervousness and for some reason always avoiding eye contact with him, he thinks it’s charming.

Now you’re sitting beside him in class, and Issei doesn’t know which God to thank or what kind of divine intervention was bestowed upon him, all he knows is that he’s feeling very very blessed.

You don’t know who to curse or what kind of karma this is supposed to be. Were you a war dictator in your past life? Why did you have to be sat beside the one person who looked like they would strangle you to death if provoked?

“Could I borrow a pen?” Issei blurted out suddenly.

You freeze in your thoughts.

Issei has decided that being desk mates in your last year together is a sign from above to pursue his infatuation with you, and he’s had enough of beating around the bush. He won’t let you slip away now — and even if you still do, it most definitely will not be because he’s too chicken to even start a conversation with you.

You gulp as you slowly turn your head towards the man sitting on your right, nodding your head benignly so as to make sure you’re not making any wrong or sudden movements around the scary middle blocker.

“Yes.” You reply curtly, your voice shaking and your hands trembling as you retrieve a pen from your pencil case.

Your voice sounded like honey. It sounded better than what Issei could’ve ever imagined it to sound like. Your eyes up close were breathtaking especially when you were finally looking at him and not at the ground. He takes the pen from your hand and smiles at you gratefully.

He smiled, you gasp.

It shocked you that someone who you once thought of as so petrifying and daunting would have a smile so bright and angelic that it could outshine even the brightest of suns.

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musetheapothecary · 5 months ago

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and I don't smoke (except for when I'm missing you)

matsukawa issei x fem!reader (nsfw)

Fog curls damp fingers up around her jaw, tracing paths of condensation across her pink cheeks. A bead of sweat tickles behind her ear, dripping down to pool in the cup of her clavicle. The air burns her nose, hot and sticky and laced with artificial sweetness. The water swirls around her bent knees, a muted shade of pink, cut through with (what the clerk had assured her was eco-friendly and biodegradable) glitter. Clumps of it stick to her shin, smears of silver refracting the weak overhead light.

The blunt sags from the tips of her fingers, and smoke dances out from her mouth and around the fog. She watches it billow towards the ceiling through heavy lidded eyes.

Someone outside is playing something loud and fast with too much bass. Makki, probably. Hajime has the decency to use headphones. The holds the blunt aloft and dips her head under for a moment, sighing out a stream of bubbles. The world pauses, muted, blissfully quiet. She rises and spits out a mouthful of pink. It certainly doesn't taste like bubblegum.

The bath had sounded like a good idea when she'd arrived home, bedraggled and aching from a too-long day, but the angle she's had to fold herself at to fit in their sad excuse for a tub is doing little for the stiffness of her spine. Her ass is bloodless from how long she's spent sitting against the ceramic and there's a numb divot at the back of her neck from where she's draped it over the lip.

She had other, better, stress-relievers. Ones that left her with much sweeter aches and pains.

But they were still at work.

In the fogged up mirror there's a slew of faded finger-drawn hearts, along with a smattering of toothpaste. She tries to read patterns in the flecks of white, drawing constellations with her eyes.

Finding meaning in the mundane, that's what it's all about. That's what her mother always liked to say.

“It means I need to clean,” she says through a mouthful of smoke, dragging sharp nails over her sweat-slick scalp.

Having four roommates was mostly only fun on paper.

Nails tangle in her hair, which has been melting its way out of a bun for the past hour.

The doorhandles jiggles twice, then swings open. Most of the men of the house would've heard the crooning voice of Mitski through her battered phone speaker (abandoned in the sink, for better acoustics) and left her well enough alone. Which means its either Shittykawa trying to nab her chapstick or—

“Issei,” she breathes out, the last syllable—along with her breath and a heavy lungful of weed—are lost to his lips.

Without speaking he tugs his shirt up and over his head with one hand, the other working at the tie in her hair. It spills down over her shoulders and he gives it a gentle tug.

“Care to share?”

She's not sure whether he means the tub or the blunt, so she scooches forwards, knees knocking against the sides, and hands the dwindling dart over to him.

Issei makes quick work of his belt and pants and both of his hole-strewn socks before sinking down beside her. She can feel the smoke he exhales against the back of her neck before he presses a dozen light kisses there.

If the bath seemed cramped before it is now practically non-existent, smothered beneath his abnormally tall build. She doesn't mind it, not when she can feel the drag of his skin against her own and the plush of his muscles cradling her head. He smells good, too. Better than the too-sweet bubblegum of her bath.

His voice is rough when he speaks, hoarse in a way that she'd expect from shouting or screaming, but this is Issei she's talking about and he's never once raised his voice for anything. “Shit day?”

“Better now,” she says lightly, and is surprised to find that she means it.

He rewards her with a slow, wet kiss to the nape of her neck and a hand tucked into the cradle of her thighs. She sort of wishes she could see him, this big dark-eyed man crowded into her pink and glittery bath, but the thought vanishes as her eyes slide shut in a drawn out moan.

The hand that is not currently sunk into her heat hovers in front of her face, offering her the last puff of her joint.

“All—shit—y-yours,” she manages, slipping further into the bath as she just about liquifies in his grasp.

He takes his time with it, like he does with everything. Working her up in a way that borders on lazy. But it's so good. Exactly what she needed. Especially when he curls his fingers right there and—

He huffs out a smoke-laced laugh. “Thanks, baby.”

—Oh. She'd been babbling, hadn't she? It really had been a long day.

#matsukawa issei #matsukawa x reader #mattsun #mattsun x reader #seijoh 4 #haikyu x reader #haikyuu!!#mentioned:#oikawa tooru #iwaizumi hajime #hanamaki takahiro #matsukawa smut #hq matsukawa

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heich0e · 2 years ago

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CUTTING TEETH - mastuskawa issei/f!reader/hanamaki takahiro (4.2k) vampire!au, vampire!matsuhana, new vampire!reader, poly matsuhana, mmf!threesome (barely), smut, finger sucking, fingering, mentions of blood/blood drinking, lots of talk about teeth and mouths, reader is going through a bit of a breakdown, sweetheart and good girl used as petnames, matsuhana give off slightly yandere vibes but they aren't actually, and reader is physically restrained at one point but it's not non/dubcon! part of the 'more than you can chew' universe 18+ NFSW - MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

Time passes differently now.

It makes sense, you can’t help but think in those precious moments when the haze lifts and grants you a reprieve of much needed clarity; It’s only logical that something would feel different now that you are too. Seconds ticking past but mean nothing when you stay unchanging. Time no longer has any meaning now that you’re frozen in it. And so nine days slip by, and they’re all a blur; one bleeds unintelligibly into the next, but they feel like what once were seconds in another life.

You’re burning.

You’re hungry.

You feel as if you’re coming undone.

But you’re safe. You know that to be true too. Even in the haze, even in the vicious delirium and the burn, there are hands that cradle you and the gentle brush of lips against your skin. You’re surrounded constantly by the scent of pine, the whistle of the winter wind and soft, familiar voices.

They’d told you it would be like this, prepared you for it. But knowing something in theory and knowing something in practice are very different things.

You’re curled up in the corner of the smallest room in the house. It’s the only one with tatami floors, though you suspect at one time—before extensive renovations that shaped the home into something beautiful but unrecognizable—there once may have been more. This room is used for storage now, mostly; there are a few boxes piled up along one side, an extra futon folded up in one corner, and antiques in pristine condition that don’t seem to otherwise match the decor. Those are half-covered by drop cloths to protect them from dust or damage, but there’s a vanity along the wall that’s been half-revealed as the sheet pools on the floor, revealing beautiful knotted elm, a pristine mirror, and careful woodwork underneath. There’s a faint scent of must that hangs in the still air, and the little room is dark—the sole window along the opposite side covered by thick curtains to block out the sun.

But you prefer the dark now.

You see too much in the light.

The air in the dim room shifts suddenly, and you lift your face from the crook between your knees where they’re drawn up to your chest.

“There you are—”

You heard him even before he opened the door. Heard him on the other side of the house before he even started making his way to you.

“—I’ve been looking all over for you.”

The man on the other side of the room keeps his distance as he appraises you. It’s a gesture that is not done unkindly. Everything Matsukawa Issei does is considerate, as ever.

He knows the hell you’re suffering.

“What’re you doing in here, huh?”

Issei makes his way towards you at an easy, lazy pace, even though the room is so small. The way he takes his time approaching you is unimposing, even given his height and his breadth, like a trapper approaching small prey that had mistakenly gotten locked in their snare.

Your throat feels raw when you finally speak. To be honest, you aren’t entirely certain when the last time you spoke even was. It may have been a few days. Perhaps only hours.

You wonder when it will get easier to keep track, now that the flow of time feels so foreign.

“My jaw hurts.”

Issei crouches down next to you slowly, and your senses follow him; his warmth, his scent, the steady sound of his breaths. He draws closer and closer, his presence growing more unignorable until he’s mere inches away from your face. His proximity effortlessly eases the ache that thrums under your gums. His nearness soothes the inferno that has scorched a hearth into your chest.

“Your jaw?” he repeats your words, a careful hand reaching out towards you. His movements are cautious but sure, measured but gentle. His broad palm caresses your cheek, his touch soft against your skin. You lean into it, into him, as unconsciously as drawing in a breath.

It’s quiet as he holds you.

“…My teeth.”

Issei hums. The sound is a deep, sympathetic purr that makes your skin prickle just underneath the surface. His hand slips a little further down your face, until he’s cupping your jaw rather than the soft swell of your cheek. Your eyes finally meet his, and you’re lost in them as the pad of his thumb presses against the pucker of your mouth.

“Can I?” he asks, his head tilting to the side.

Your lips part for his willingly, wordlessly, welcoming him in.

The tip of the digit slips underneath your top lip, and you can taste the subtle saltiness that clings to his skin. Issei watches your expression as he traces along the front of your upper row of teeth, ghosting along the smooth enamel and mapping the peaks and valleys as one tooth gives way to the next. His touch sweeps a little further up and the investigation continues as he skims along the soft pink of your gums. The warmth of his hand and his closeness has your mouth filling with saliva that threatens to drip at the corner of your parted lips.

He presses, firmer now than he has yet, against a tender spot along your gums.

“Mmmmmph—!”

You clutch his wrist tightly with both hands, holding him still as you pant raggedly against his palm. Spit freely runs down his skin now, and your chin, catching in the low light of the small room you’ve locked yourself away in as it drips slowly to the floor. That all-consuming burn is still there—haunting your lungs and up the track of your throat—but you’re holding onto Issei tighter than you’ve ever held anything.

“Easy, easy,” he soothes you quietly, his other hand reaching up to pat along your hair. Your grip slackens, but you keep his hand pressed desperately to your mouth like a lifeline. His thumb is still resting against that sensitive, aching spot, and once he senses it’s safe for him to continue he sweeps the pad of it against that place again. There’s a throb deep beneath the muscle that twinges, and it’s painful but surprisingly not unpleasant. Your jaw relaxes slightly, though your breaths are still shuddering, and it grants him even better access to your mouth than before.

“Good girl,” he praises you for the utterly unconscious gesture, sweeping the digit stuck beneath your lip slowly along to the same spot on the opposite side of your top row of teeth. It hurts there too, but Issei’s touch is gentle and compassionate; soothing as it glides against the slick flesh.

The little room around you fades away, little by little, until all you know is him.

Your vision grows hazy, your eyelids suddenly heavy as Issei continues to explore your mouth. The pain that had been so all-consuming just moments before is easier now to bear, your senses dulling to anything that isn’t him. There’s so much saliva pooling under your tongue that you can hear how wet it is as the man before you moves his thumb around inside.

Eventually he’s satisfied, a pleased little hum telling you he’s found what he was looking for, and as if to reward you he slips his thumb between your teeth and rubs it against the surface of your tongue. You close your lips around it happily.

“Gentle,” he urges, and you heed his warning—careful not to bite down or otherwise move too eagerly with his finger caught in your mouth. You suckle it gently on nothing more than sheer instinct. It feels nice—soothing, familiar somehow even though it isn’t—and he sighs contently. “That’s it.”

You stay like that for a while, holding his wrist as you suck against the warmth of his thumb where it rests against your tongue. You grow even more delirious the longer you indulge yourself—the demons that have been clawing at you incessantly for the past nine days quieting until you can scarcely notice them at all.

“Your teeth are coming in,” Issei eventually speaks again in that easy, gentle way he always does, but you hardly register his words through your daze.

You make a small noise of confusion once his words reach you somewhere you can understand.

“Your fangs,” he explains as he smiles softly down at you, watching with nothing short of fondness in his gaze.

You blink, processing his revelation though your brain is foggy and your thoughts are syrupy slow.

Issei slips his thumb out of your mouth only once you allow him to, dipping forward and dragging his tongue along your bottom lip to catch the spit that has steadily been dribbling out. He doesn’t kiss you, not really anyway, even though the gesture feels so intimate and his lips are practically upon yours. It’s as though he senses you want to say something, because as soon as he’s cleaned you up he’s pulling away and looking to you expectantly.

“My… fangs?” you sound uncertain, your voice thready and confused as you repeat what he’s told you.

Issei lifts his thumb up to his mouth; the length of it is covered in the sheen of your saliva, all the way down to his wrist. He cleans that off too as he nods.

You shiver a little.

“Are they going to fall out?” you ask him worriedly, a tightness of anxiety weaving itself into a knot in the centre of your searing chest.

“Yes,” he says, sparing you no detail and offering you no misguided pleasantry in the interest of your own sake. He cups your cheeks in both hands this time, keeping your eyes on him, and he uses his thumbs to curl your upper lip and reveal your teeth again—one holds the lip up out of the way while the other dips down to trace over the canine tooth just below that wretchedly aching spot in your gums. “Just think of these like milk teeth.”

He traces along the razor fine edge of your incisor with the very tip of his finger, then across to your canine—careful, even with all his own strength, not to nick himself on the sharpness.

“Right now, these teeth are meant to shred—to rip and tear through skin and bone and whatever else might be in your way so you can get as much blood as quickly as possible. So you can get stronger,” he says, and his low, gentle voice softens the gruesomeness of his words into something palatable and easy to swallow. “But your fangs will give you acuity. Precision. You’ll be able to puncture just enough to draw what you need when you feed as you mature.”

You whimper a little when he presses down against your canine, as though terrified it might begin to wiggle under his touch.

“You’re cutting teeth, that’s all,” he says simply, and you wish his words were more comforting to hear than they are. He slips his finger out once more and allows your lip to return to its rightful place. He tuts lightly. “But it’s painful, isn’t it?”

You nod a bit, your head dipping as much as it’s able with his hands still cradling your cheeks on either side.

“Poor little thing,” Issei breathes, crowding you a little closer to the wall where you’ve been curled up in your misery. “Want me to make you feel better?”

Your back rests flush to Issei’s chest, two of his fingers pressed deep into your mouth. He has your knees hooked over his thighs and his legs spread to keep you open, and tips of his talented fingers orbit in rhythmic circles around your clit.

It all sounds so wet.

Your mouth. Your pussy. Your shuddering breaths. The racing thump of your heart.

The coil of tension in the pit of your insatiable stomach has nearly wound tight enough to break.

How many times has he made you cum in the past nine days? You wonder distantly in your mind. How many more times will he make you cum in the innumerable ones that now lie ahead?

Your head pitches back against Issei’s shoulder as his mouth laves down the column of your neck. You feel the familiar drag of his teeth along your throat, and the sensation still makes your heart race—even though the thumping is little more than vestigial; even though his teeth wont pierce you the way they used to when there was still blood that he craved rushing underneath your once fragile, delicate skin.

“Feel good?” he murmurs into your skin between kisses, and your hips jump in place of an answer—as clear an indicator to your agreement than any words you may be able to offer in reply. His fingertips press a little firmer against the sensitive bud at the apex of your dripping core.

“‘Sei,” your voice is reedy and wanton as you call for him around his fingers.

“What do you need, sweetheart?”

You don’t know. Or maybe you do, but your ability to verbalize it has abandoned you along with your sanity.

But you’re needy. You need more. Need something. Need anything.

You shift in his lap, as much as you can given the way he’s holding you, and grind against the firm swell of his cock nestled behind your back. Issei pulls his fingers out from your mouth, the pads of his fingers slipping softly against your lips.

“Yeah?” his reply is deep, breathy, “that what you want?”

You nod, fervent and crazed.

Strangely, you feel a little more normal like this—a little more like who you used to be. He used to make you feel this frenzied back then too, but now he doesn’t need to be as gentle with you as he once was. In spite of that, Issei still touches you like you’re something breakable. Something precious.

“Hiro will be back soon,” the man above you whispers as he gently lays you flat against the tatami flooring, his nose brushing yours. “Are you hungry?”

It hardly needs to be asked. You’re always hungry. At least you have been for the past nine days. There’s a little pile of crumpled silver packets on one side of the room, long-drained, as evidence to this fact. Hiro’s been bringing you more blood each day, fresh blood—that tastes better than the synthetic stuff you find yourself guzzling in the hours in between—but it still doesn’t feel like it’s enough to satiate you. Not enough to douse the burn that torches your throat.

You’re not sure where he’s getting it, and you don’t ask. The truth is you don’t even know where you are.

Prior to turning, Issei and Hiro had asked if you prefer the sea or the forest. The smell of salt air or pine sap. You’d answered the forest, with fond memories of wandering around the green space in the countryside where your grandparents lived when you were a child. When you’d woken up nine days ago in this big house in the middle of the woods, you realized why they’d asked you to begin with.

You’re far away from civilization here.

Or rather, civilization is far away from you.

Because you’re the thing that needs to be kept away. Isolated. Contained. All in the best interest of the beating hearts and pumping blood that floods the city you’d once known.

The thought of blood rushing under skin, of throngs of people saturated with it, makes your mouth water.

“Issei,” you moan, your sharp teeth gnashing involuntarily at the thought as you cling to him a little tighter. “Please."

The man hovering over you shushes you gently; a soothing placating sound. “I’m sorry, I know it’s hard,” he murmurs, slipping a hand under the silk of your robe, “it’ll get easier, I promise.”

Issei knows it better than anyone, you think. His words a little more comforting because you know he’s speaking from experience. He’d been just like you once: bloodthirsty and on the brink—a mind in tatters as it fights to acclimatize to the sudden change of being turned, attempting to knit itself back together into something new. Takahiro had turned him only 100 years ago, after all.

Only—a part of your brain scoffs, maybe the last rational part that’s endured—when did 100 years become something you could measure so flippantly?

Issei unfastens the loose tie of your robe at your waist, letting the silky material slip from your body like the flow of water over stone. You don’t know who’d dressed you in it, only that it’s not something you’d pulled on yourself. You hadn’t washed or dressed yourself since you’d woken up.

Yet another way you’ve been cared for in the time in-between.

Two strong arms cage you in against the floor, a palm resting on either side of your face. Issei’s body is warm. You like that. He always used to feel so much colder than you did, but now that your body is running at the same temperature his touch feels more ambient.

“Hey,” Issei’s gentle hand takes your chin to turn your gaze towards him, “get out of your head for a minute, okay? Just focus on me. I’m right here.”

He is, and he has been. He and Hiro both, for the past nine days.

And for a long time before that.

And now forever.

Issei dips forwards and kisses you sweetly, deeply.

He doesn’t have to prep you like he used to, because your body isn’t fragile in the same ways it once was. You feel the thick head of his cock dragging through the sticky petals of your pussy, and know that you can stretch to accommodate him without any of the discomfort you may have once felt. When he presses inside, you just feel full. You just feel good.

You moan against his mouth as he gives the first few slow thrusts, like he’s letting you get used to it. Like he’s letting you enjoy it.

But it’s not enough.

With newfound strength, a strength you’re not yet fully used to, you roll the two of you over and pin him down against the tatami. Issei’s eyes are surprised, but not unwilling in the slightest, as he stares up at you with his dark hair fanning away from his face. Your hips begin moving freely, using your new position as leverage. You’re full, then empty, then full again as you bounce on his lap—the wet, lewd sound of skin slapping fills the room, but you can scarcely hear it over the thrum of your pulse.

“That’s it,” Issei groans, praising you. His eyes have gone half-lidded as you ride him, a little smile on his lips. “Take what you need, sweetheart.”

Your hips keep moving, chasing the pleasure that’s rising in your core. His hand finds yours, and you clasp your hand around his to guide it up your body. First to your chest, where he grabs a handful of your soft, bouncing flesh. He kneads it gently for a moment, his thumb pressing teasingly against the pebbled bud of your nipple. But that’s not where you want him either, and you keep guiding it up to your mouth.

“Careful,” Issei’s voice has gone a little raspier now as you bring his fingers to your lips. And you’re trying to be, you really are, but you’re a little too far gone to care that much.

He is too.

If you wanted to, he’d let you bite. Let you devour him.

You lick between his knuckles, flicking your tongue up between the digits as saliva drips down to his wrist, all while you keep spearing yourself back down onto his thick, hard cock. You slip the fingertips just past your lips, and moan around the digits when you feel him throb inside of you, your free hand hand fluttering down to your stomach where you swear you might be able to feel him shaping your body to fit him inside. You’re still grinding down against him, still suckling against his fingers, and Issei is still staring up at you from the floor with a tender, heavy lidded gaze.

“I love you,” he murmurs, and god do you know that he means it.

“Yeah, love you,” you whimper back, breathy and pitchy and desperate as you let his hand fall from your mouth. You drop down onto your elbows to kiss him, wet and messy, and hope that he knows that you mean it too.

Issei keeps thrusting up into you as your lips slot messily against his, an arm wound around the small of your back to keep you in place as he fucks into you. You’re lost in the feeling of it, in the pleasure Issei is giving to you, when suddenly light washes over the little room.

“I thought I heard you two in here.”

You squint against the light, your lips still hovering over Issei’s as you pant. Takahiro leans against the doorframe on the other side of the room, and his gaze sweeps across the scene as he pushes his flashy sunglasses up onto his head, his strawberry hair pinned back underneath them. His red eyes watch you placidly, an amused little smile on his face.

You always found it hard to believe that of the two of them, Hiro was the elder. And not marginally—Hanamaki Takahiro has seen more seasons than all of the towering trees that surround your little safe house combined. Where Issei is solemn and reserved, favouring understated clothes and quiet, Hiro delights in the marvels of the modern era; revels in them. Their stark juxtaposition is part of what had drawn you to them in the first place.

Part of what had led you here.

“Hiro,” you breathe when you spot him, but then the hair stands up n the back of your neck as you catch the sweet smell of blood in the air.

Something monstrous squirms inside of you; animalistic and feral. You scramble blindly towards it, but Issei keeps you where you are with his arms wrapped around your waist and his cock still inside of you. He pulls you to his chest as you thrash against him. You sob, desperately fighting against his hold. There’s an ungodly burning in your throat, saliva dripping from your trembling lips. Then Hiro is in front of you, so quickly so barely see him move, patting your hair back from your face.

“Shh, shh,” he coos in his smooth, low voice. You blink tears away, swallowing against your mouth full of spit. The ache in you teeth is back, worse now than before, almost as if you can feel the slice of fangs that want to push through your flesh and descend. You want to bite. To rend and tear. Every breath you draw in burns with the delicious fragrance you know is so close. You cling to Issei harder. “Baby, it’s not going anywhere. You’ll feed soon, just calm down. Don’t rush.”

Hiro takes your face in his hands, pressing light kisses the edge of your mouth, your cheeks, your nose. In the corner over Hiro's shoulder, you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror of the vanity that sits half-uncovered.

You don't recognize the animal that peers back.

You’re tense even as Hiro coddles you, soothes you, but then Issei’s hips start moving again. The unexpected sensation punches a carnal, gasping sound out of you and it makes Hiro laugh against your cheek, all air.

There are four hands on your body, two mouths against your skin.

“Oh, that’s our girl,” Hiro sounds chipper as you slacken, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “Breathe for us, okay? Just breathe. It’s okay.”

You hear the sloppy sound of Issei’s hips meeting yours, and the jingling of Hiro’s belt as he unfastens it with one hand.

You smell the scent of fresh blood, but also the cool early-winter air that clings to the material of Hiro’s coat now that he’s so close, still heavy with the lingering fragrant pine from outside.

You feel pleasure building while they touch you, until it drowns out the ache. You’re hungry, but the burn isn’t quite so vicious. Your teeth hurt, but you find the sting has been soothed.

“Resist it for a bit—”

You’re not sure who moves you, but soon you’re splayed out again with your back to the floor, Issei is pinning your wrists down by your face, and both men are looming over you. Hiro looks up at Issei, tucking a tendril of his dark hair behind his ear dotingly. He smiles as he looks back down to you, his touch still lingering on the shell of Issei’s ear.

“—For us?”

Seconds tick by that you can’t keep track of.

But it’s getting easier.

And you have plenty of time to figure it out.

You shut your eyes, nodding slightly as you swallow over the burn in your throat, and you let your mind go blank.

#matsukawa issei x reader #mattsun x reader #matsukawa x reader #hanamaki takahiro x reader #makki x reader #hanamaki x reader #matsuhana #hq writing #hq fic #writing

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tkuro0 · 3 months ago

Text

Now playing… Track 2

“Are you sure you don’t want me to meet up with you to go home?” Iwaizumi’s voice was clear, Matsukawa could hear the passing of cars and the muted beat of the club in the background. He was outside.

“Nah you’re good, go home we’ll meet you there” Matsukawa practically screamed into his phone, pushing through the jumping crowd with his shoulders. He couldn't hear his own voice, but he could feel the timber vibrating through his throat. Matsukawa was painfully aware of the feeling of others' hands, their bodies, around him as they moved with the music not paying a single mind to him going through them. “It’ll be easier this way and I don’t know if Makki is okay to be moved and put in an uber-“

“you make it sound like he's going to die-“ Iwaizumi let out a rough laugh.

“you never know with him- I’m almost there I’ll text you”

Iwa breathed out a brief "Be safe idiot-", before hanging up.

Matsukawa Issei was by no means a small man. His height made him an excellent middle blocker in his volleyball days, it made him large but also easy to spot, it was easy to be intimidated by his height and the lazy gaze he carried through life. It wasn't strange to him when you froze as he opened the door, almost as if ready to go into fight or flight.

He hated to even think it but, Makki was right, you were gorgeous. Even through the dim light of the room, mascara smudged at the outer corner of your eyes, and what used to be your glitter eyeshadow faded and flaky. The sigh of relief from, the somehow still, glossy pink of your lips as you pieced together it was Hanamaki's friend, the stray pieces of hair that slipped through the pins and ribbons holding it up. He could feel the breath catch in his throat and his mouth go dry.

"Issei!" Makki cheered from the floor, his back against the wall and leaning his head on top of Noya’s unconscious one. "Y/N I present to you the love of your life Matsukawa Issei-"

“Oh-”

“Sorry about him- he’s an idiot-”

“Hey!”

Mattsun rolled his eyes as he walked over, assessing the state his best friend was in. Pink hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, his shirt had a mysterious blue stain from the middle of his chest all the way down to the bottom edge of it, not to mention it looked like it had been tugged and pulled, wrinkled and looser than Matsukawa remembered it being. He had a loopy smile on his face anyway.

“It’s totally okay- I’m y/n” You stuck your hand out, but quickly retracted it “Actually don’t touch my hand Hanamaki threw up on it like ten minutes ago” You could see Matsukawa cringe at it with amusement in his eyes.

“Been there- I’m Mattsun, also your set was nice by the way” he could see the corners of your lips turn up, eyes narrowed playfully

“just nice? gotta try harder next time I guess” you could see his cheeks slightly redden.

“I didn’t mean- what i meant was that it was good you know.. whatever-“ your laughter broke through his words, amused at how flustered he had suddenly become

“yes whatever Mattsun, how are you guys getting home?” he could feel a chill run down your spine as your lips pronounced his name.

He turned to stare at his friend, with half-lidded eyes but a cheeky smirk still plastered on his lips. Bastard.

“I don’t think he’ll make it on the uber... he's gotta walk it off” he sighed as he bent down, hauling Makki up from under his armpits until the strawberry-haired boy stood up mostly straight. “do you need help with him?” Mattsun said signaling towards Noya with a cock of his head, as he threw one of Makki’s arms over his shoulders, holding onto his wrist.

You stood up from your crouch, eyeing Noya with your hands on your hips. “I want to say I got it but…” you glanced at him and Makki, “it's fine actually don’t worry”

“No I’ll help you- are you guys ubering?”

“God please no-” Noya spoke up, eyes still closed and voice groggy, Mattsun couldnt help but feel the butterflies that awoke at the pit of his stomach as you laughed.

“Well I guess not-”

You walked out, Mattsun helping you hoist Noya up to standing as the two of you guided your friends out. Pushing through the sweaty bodies, the beat and bounce of the music reverberating through your bodies, in your chest, in your ribs. The blue and orange lights flashed across Mattsun’s handsome features, blue across his eyes, dots of reds and yellows rotating on his skin. You tried your best not to stare, focusing on the door ten steps in front of you.

“God is real-” Hanamaki exclaimed as the fresh air hit you, getting out of the stuffiness of the club making you all feel even the slightest bit more sober.

“You might be onto something…” Mattsun muttered as he took a deep breath, cold air rushing into his lungs.

“Why are we leaving?” Nishinoya groaned as his head dropped onto your shoulder, fully leaning onto you as you all walked away.

“Because its almost three in the morning... and also you couldn't handle the club sweetie-”

“Pffft- the club can't handle me-” Noya’s muttered ramblings whined down as you walked.

UP ALL NIGHT ; Club Can't Handle Me

fun fax ;

☆ noya cannot handle his liquor EVER ☆ he somehow always makes it home tho??? like even when he runs away and goes on his lone four-hour side quest he somehow always makes it home by sunrise... ☆ mattsun couldn't handle going shot for shot with makki, gave up and ended up mostly sober by like 1 am... makki will probably hibernate for about a day after this tho... ☆ mattsun walked yn and noya all the way to their building even though it was a detour. He did find out they only live two streets away from each other, about a 10 minute walk. totally not relevant at all... ☆ makki is delighted about mattsun looking so flustered, he KNEW yn was mattsun's type to a T. he might not remember the interaction tho...

taglist ; @weezerbby

#haiku #haikyu x reader #haikyuu #haikyū!!#haikyuu!!#haikyuu matsukawa #matsukawa issei #matsukawa #mattsun #hq matsukawa #matsukawa x reader #mattsun x you #mattsun x reader smau #mattsun smau #mattsun x reader #matsukawa issei smau #matsukawa issei x reader

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youmarin · 9 months ago

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Stormy Weather | Iwaizumi Hajime x Fem! Reader

Part 1/1 Word Count: 5,380 hq!! ML

Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime x Reader. Hanamaki Takahiro x Reader, Matsukawa Issei x Reader, Oikawa Tooru x Reader (all platonic), Seijoh Boys's Volleyball Club

angst, fluff, comedy (me trying to write funny stuff for funsies)

tw: swearing (not as much. I think.), brief suicide mention (just one time like in passing).

Iwaizumi Hajime is on his way to school. He’s way more than early and has plenty of time to get to morning practice but he takes quick strides under the morning twilight, slightly chilly breeze brushing upon his cheeks making them rosy, and he buries his face in the collar of his jacket.

It’s honestly way too early for some. Exclusively for you, since you aren't a morning person at all. When he makes it to Aoba Johsai grounds and the gymnasium comes into view he thinks you might’ve slept over the early morning and are finally coming to school later like you actually should do. He sighs in relief. His fellow third year and team captain, Oikawa, notices him and greets him animatedly. A couple of the others are already inside too. Some of his teammates remind him of you. They are still sleepy, Makki yawning while he starts stretching and he swears Kunimi still has the outline of his bedsheets stamped on his face. Kyōtani is grumpy - well, he mostly looks like that so it is hard to tell the cause sometimes. - and his friend Mattsun also looks like he would appreciate a couple more hours of slumber.

“Ah, there she is.” He hears the dreaded words and tenses. Oikawa near him tries to hide his amusement and he hears a few snickers around.

“HAJIMEEE!” he turns slightly and spots you sprinting towards him (you threw your bookbag somewhere along the run and it lands with a loud thump! near a wall of the gym and a few cracks are heard from the contents inside.That bookbag has had a rough life.) Iwaizumi braces himself as you jump on his back happily and he’s quick to hold you, carrying you piggyback style, arms under your thighs as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and hug him. “Good morning!” You kiss his red dusted cheeks due to all the attention you’re getting on the both of you and your actions. “Morning, guys!”

There’s a chorus of the guys replying to you. They’re always entertained with the situation. The volleyball club doesn't have a manager (officially, at least) but you basically occupy the position dropping by every morning and sometimes in the afternoon too when you were free. Some fans of the team would drop by too but mostly just in the afternoons. So in that way, they’ve grown used to these interactions. They’ve warmed up to you as a person too and are grateful for your help and support. Even if it might be all because of your love for the ace.

“You’ve got to stop coming here this early.” Iwaizumi entertains himself by looking up at the ceiling, hoisting you up a little as you begin to slip down, not a bit uncomfortable by your weight. Then he catches on to what he’s doing and helps you get off him. You’re standing in front of him in a second.

“But it makes me happy to come see you.” You pout. You’re oblivious of how some of the other boys whine wishing they had a girl be as happy as you to see them. “Aren’t you happy to see me too?”

“It’s- It’s alright.” Iwaizumi is still flustered, then continues to reprimand you. “And you shouldn’t be calling me Hajime, or kissing me.” Even if it doesn’t feel wrong.

“Right. I’m sorry.” you look down, biting your lip, fidgeting with your hands behind your back. “Sorry, Iwaizumi.” He nods, but he’s already frustrated knowing you’ll most likely forget about it by later.

Still, you don’t let his rejection keep your mood down for long, “I’ll get my things and get started around here.” You say with another bright smile, and return your steps to retrieve your forsaken, beaten up bag.

“You’re so mean, Iwa-chan”, Oikawa told him later on during practice. “Honestly, you should be grateful a girl is interested in you. I know I tend to steal the spotlight.” That earns the captain a smack to the back of his head and glares from a couple of the others near him.

“I appreciate it, but I don’t like her that way.” Iwaizumi answers uncomfortably, stealing a glance at you as you watch his fellow teammates do their drills.

“Have you tried telling her that?” Mattsun joins the conversation.

“Yes. But I feel bad and end up giving in to whatever she’s on about at the moment.” He scratches the back of his neck and grimaces. “Also, isn’t it obvious?”

“Maybe not to her. Love is blind and all that shit.” Makki adds.

“You should tell her upfront and stop leading her on. It’s going to be worse for her.” The captain finishes and leaves Iwaizumi reflecting on his words. Maybe his friends were right. Your intentions might be so pure and honest you hadn’t caught on that he didn’t reciprocate your feelings.

And now he’ll have to break your heart.

After practice was over, he had showered and changed into his school uniform, he made haste to find you and get over with it even though he wasn’t sure yet what to say and how to word it best to soften the blow and let you down slowly.

Entering the classroom, he saw your bag on your seat but you were nowhere to be seen. There was a note on your desk. He flipped it over.

“Y/L/N: Please meet me in the garden by the tree with the white flowers.”

He put the note back where it was and rushed out towards where the note said. And there you were, coming to stand in front of a boy. A second year maybe? He clearly was about to confess to you, shifting his weight from one foot to the other all fidgety and flustered.

Hajime stood hidden at a safe distance but close enough to listen. What was he doing? He was eavesdropping on you. This wasn’t what he was supposed to be doing but his feet had guided him there. He stopped berating himself when he heard your voices.

“IwantedtotellyouthatIthinkyou'resoprettyandifyou’renotinterestedinanyoneelsewouldyouconsiderme?” He blurted out in one breath, seemingly having rehearsed that one sentence in advance until it was ingrained into his mind. “Dating… Me?”

Somehow, in a way Iwaizumi couldn’t comprehend, you understood what the boy had said. “You think I’m pretty. Me.” You sounded dumbfounded by that for some reason. He hoped it wasn’t because you really hadn’t noticed how pretty you really were.

“I mean,sure, you could put a little more effort on your looks at school and you always have dark circles under your eyes. Are you sleeping well?” He was straying off topic very badly. “But! We’ve run into each other outside school and you look clean up nicely.” Now, Hajime would’ve found that funny if something about that information and truly about the whole ordeal didn’t sit right with him.

He heard your laugh. “Well, thank you for your honesty.” You hesitated a little afterwards, “I’m flattered, really, but I’m sorry I… I got someone else I like.”

“That Iwaizumi guy from the volleyball club, right?” So, he had shot his shot knowing that the odds weren’t in his favor anyway.

No response but he knew the answer. He figured you nodded by how the boy continued. “I should work out more. A lot of the girls are always fawning over his arms. The boys are all jealous.” You laughed again and the boy did too.

“It’s not just about his strong arms. I just think he’s beautiful. And,” You went on for a bit but then looked up to the boy, who seemed rather amused instead of upset by being turned down, and caught onto what you were saying. “I’m sorry!” You apologized with a deep vow, embarrassed of your slip up in front of a boy who had just confessed to you. Only you could stand there rambling about the guy you actually liked right on his face. You were down bad.

Iwaizumi felt his face grow hotter. This was wrong. He’d heard too much, so he stalked away, not listening to the rest of the conversation.

Come third period and you doze off, head resting on your desk and part of your hair covering your face. A line of drool was dripping out of your mouth. Very pretty, indeed. Iwaizumi laughed to himself as he stared at you and stopped himself before reaching over and brushing your hair away. The teacher let you napping during lectures slide just because you always made up for it by getting excellent grades. He seemed more affected by it than you as he caught himself staring at you from time to time.

Then at lunch, your energy was fully charged again. “Haji-! Iwaizumi.” You cleared your throat, catching yourself. He noticed your efforts. “Want me to buy you something at the cafeteria?”

“No thanks.” He rejected. He didn’t like you spending your money on him.

But lunch was a funny topic between the four third years. Was it during their first year? You had taken the initiative to bring lunch to Iwaizumi. It was so obvious you meant it especially for him even though you brought an extra one and offered it to the others to share. You were so shy and nervous, Iwaizumi thought you were really cute and couldn’t say no. Who knows how much effort it took you to make it, and much more to give it to him.

Later when lunch hour arrived and they went to eat, Makki called for bids first but was shot down by Oikawa. “Y/n-chan meant it for Iwa-chan.”

“It looks good.” He brought the food to his mouth and the others witnessed as their friend turned a little pale, then a little green but still gulped the mouthful down. He scrunched his nose. “Don’t-” he coughed, and reached for his drink. “Don’t eat that.”

“Damn. It can’t be that bad.” Makki ignored his friend’s advice. No better way to learn than going through it yourself. Makki’s face grew pink as he started to laugh in the middle of a coughing fit. “It’s terrible.”

“Why are you still eating it?!” Mattsun, eyes so big it looked comical as he stared scandalized at his friend, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes while finishing the food.

Before practice that day, you arrived at the gym. The first thing Iwaizumi noticed was your red rimmed eyes.

“Hey,” he started carefully, “You okay?” Then, he fucked up. “Ah, thanks for lunch. It was very good.”

Your lower lip wobbled and the dam broke. You started bawling your eyes out in front of everyone. Pathetic, right? You’ll think about it later and it will haunt you for the rest of your days.

Everyone’s expression ranged from concern, surprise and well, hilarity (Makki was crying too, laughing uncontrollably at you while Mattsun smacked him trying to hold his own laughter and Oikawa rushed towards a frantic Iwaizumi trying to figure out how to calm you down.)

Iwaizumi’s stomach was not harmed, though it is not so certain about his taste buds. Makki got food poisoning and had to skip school the next day.

To this day, you are still trying to learn how to cook.

“Cool. Does the offer apply only to him or…?” Hanamaki, having come in from his own classroom, asked shamelessly.

“Yes.”

“Ouch.”

“I’m kidding. What do you want?”

“Yes! Free food. Oh, I’ll go with you.” He ignored the glare Iwaizumi sent him.

“Bring me something too!” Mattsun yelled after the two, receiving an On it! from you as a response, seeing you walk away with his best friend. “What?” he asked, the ace’s unhappy stare now on him.

The sky was dark with swelling clouds in the evening as practice came to an end and everyone gathered up, hurrying to head home before they decided to burst.

“Let’s walk home together.” You offered to Iwaizumi, “I know you always forget your umbrella. Plus I got a new one.” By new one, you meant one of his from another day you had walked home together. You didn’t forget yours. They just tended to break. But that one you had managed to keep safe.

He thought about it. He’d been meaning to talk to you all day but the chance never presented itself. “Okay.” He saw your smile grow as you counted your victory and his resolve almost dropped.

As you began your walk, it started to rain down. You raised your arm carrying the umbrella high above your heads to keep you and Iwaizumi covered. He had given up on trying to hold it himself. You seemed pretty happy doing it.

The rain shower was okay until the wind picked up too, sending a chill up your arms and you shuddered.

“Y/L/N…” he started as you got closer to his house, before your paths diverted.

“I keep telling you, you can call me by my first name.” a small smile shone through. “The others don’t mind. Oikawa started to do so before I had to tell him anything.”

“Y/L/N,” he repeated, sounding more serious and you stopped walking. He had done so too. You turned to face him, “This has to stop.”

“What do you mean?” It was harder to look into your eyes, seeing you were genuinely confused, but he forced himself sternly. Why did it have to be him?

“Everything! I don’t like it. I don’t like you.” Seeing the sudden pang of hurt in them sent an uncomfortable, almost painful jab to his chest. “All the time.You’re too much.”

Your eyes get shinier, heavier with tears, like the droplets of rain gathered in the clouds above. But you put in all your efforts in trying not to spill them. Not in front of him. You choked in a painful, almost pitiful sound that tried to escape your throat. “Okay.” Was your meek response.

He didn’t think he’d ever hear your voice sound like that. It sounded foreign to his ears, yet he swallowed back the disagreeable feeling it brought him, “Okay.”

“I should probably give this back then.” You grabbed his hand and returned the umbrella to its owner before you plunged yourself under the rain, your tears starting to blend with it. He suddenly wishes he hadn’t spoken watching you blur away while he stays back, powerlessness fixing him in place.

The storm lasted all through the night and next morning early again, light rain was still falling. He enters the gym after changing into his shorts and t-shirt for practice and before he knows it, it is about to start.

“It’s weird that senpai hasn’t shown up.” he hears Kunimi say to Kindaichi, referring to you. The third years silently agree and throw not so subtle glances at Iwaizumi.

“She got tired of waiting for Iwaizumi and abandoned the rest of us.” Yahaba says.

Kindaichi shuts him up fearing the third years are listening, then adds quietly. “She wouldn’t do that.”

“Oi, didn’t you two walk home together yesterday?” Mattsun asks Hajime. “Did she get home okay?”

“Yeah…” He debated for a while if he should text you last night after your conversation but when he finally did, you hadn’t answered. Didn’t even read it. “She’s not answering my texts.”

“Did you talk to her?” Oikawa guessed. By Iwaizumi’s expression he could tell he had done it.

“No way.” Makki chuckled dryly, clearly lacking humor. It sounded like a sad movie scene. “Out of all the times you chose to turn her down while it was pouring rain. That’s so messed up.”

“Even I feel like shit.” Mattsun agreed with a grave nod.

“You guys said I should do it!” Why were they all ganging up on him now?

“It wouldn’t have cost you to read the room a bit and wait a little longer.”

“I didn’t want to in the first place! I panicked!”

“You panicked.” Mattsun more like stated, slowly, “You. You did.” While they figured out what to do with their usually collected friend, that gave him time to go back and repeat the words he had said to you in his head. He slid a hand down his face and up again through his hair, messing it up a bit.

“And what exactly did you tell her?” There it was.

“You fucked up so bad didn’t you?”

Makki almost groans after he repeats the exact words he had thrown at you last evening.

To their surprise, you showed up for class later. There’s still some time before the bell rings so they’re hanging in the hall when they see you. Iwaizumi falters and stops abruptly on his tracks. You send a weak smile at the three other boys and try your best to act like Iwaizumi is not right there beside them, walking past them on your way to the classroom. Something feels so off. He’s usually greeted with your smile (and a little bit of brute force). And to no one’s surprise you had definitely been crying.

For now they think it’s better to give you some space.

At lunch break, Makki and Mattsun’s figures appear under the door frame. The former seemed to look for someone and then he remembers. “Where is she?”

“Cafeteria.” Oikawa answers while Iwaizumi keeps eating his lunch silently.

“You wanna come?” He hears Makki ask Mattsun and then both disappear after you. Makki’s clearly a bit irritated with the ace.

Both boys find you eating lunch at a table at the cafeteria, alone.

“Hey,” the strawberry blond smiles at you, taking a seat in front of you while Mattsun takes one by your side. “You brought your own lunch?” Matsukawa tries to hide his concern after he also notices it. You nod.

“Did your mom make it?” The raven color haired boy hopes.

“I made it. Though she guided me through it.” Your mom gets closer to a mental breakdown every time you get near the kitchen. It should be considered a skill your immense lack of skill.

“Are you trying to kill yourself?” Makki reaches for your lunchbox.

“It’s actually good this time.” You say throwing them an offended look and they're glad to see that dead aura leave you for a few seconds, yet still a bit unsure about your statement. “I’m not going to kill myself because of a boy."

Makki snatches some of your food and tries it. Just to be sure. He already knows what’s the worst that can happen. His eyes go wide, pleasantly surprised. “You can cook!” At that you actually chuckled, making him do so too. Then Mattsun also steals some of your food.

“At least something good came out of me making a fool of myself for years.” And just like that the happy spark dies. You push your food aside and look down, trying to hide your tears as your vision gets blurry.

“Hey, no,no,no.” Makki is tilting your head up while Mattsun awkwardly brushes a hand through your hair trying to comfort you. “You know you can ugly cry in front of us.”

A hiccup keeps you from answering, then, “Don’t I look pretty when I cry?”

“Nope.” He says just to bother you. You laugh again but then you actually start crying and Mattsun hugs you. “There it is.”

Next day, the bell rings and as he walks inside, Iwaizumi’s eyes are looking for you, then asking out loud, “Hasn’t Y/L/N arrived yet?”

“She’s not here?” That boy who’s always fighting with you over perfect attendance turns around and it’s just as surprised when he sees your empty seat. “Huh. I wonder why she’s not here.” he mumbles.

As class is about to start, Mattsun comes by.

“Matsukawa, why aren’t you in your homeroom?” The teacher sighs.

“Our teacher didn’t come today.”

“By the way, can we split our group and take your class now?” Makki said, popping behind the middle blocker. Now that would sound strange coming from him but he was just looking for a way to get over with classes sooner.

“Hold on. That’s not why we’re here, stupid.” Mattsun scolded and headed over to their teacher to tell them the reason for your absence. You had catched a bad cold. The image of you under the rain taunted him and the guilt didn’t take long to eat away at him.

The days kept moving all the same. There was afternoon practice, some supporters (mostly from Oikawa’s considerable fan club) showed up for a while, but no you. Walking back home, there was no you with your exciting chatter about whatever thing had your interest now, whether it was about that book you were reading, or that tv show you’d told him about or a new song from your favorite artist. No texts asking if he got home safe. And the same thing the next morning, the next afternoon, the day next. From what he’d heard from your mutual friends, it might take you a few more days to get back. He’d found himself missing all of it more than he ever thought he would. Which in turn made him the more confused.

“Iwa-chan. That crease between your brows will become permanent. I don’t think it will suit you.”

“Shut up.” He turned his face away from the brunette and faced the window, scowling even deeper if possible. His head was resting over his folded arms on his desk.

“Did you eat something bad?” Even that stupid question made him think of you. He groaned.

Then enter the tall, dark haired boy and the strawberry blond, the latter laughing at something in his phone and showing it to Mattsun.

“Are you still pestering y/n?” That was Mattsun. As if he hadn’t joined earlier. Iwaizumi perked up at the mention of your name.

“Let that poor girl rest.”

“She’s fine, see?” He turned his screen to show Oikawa a picture of you, still smiling softly at the camera, the tip of your nose pink, same as your cheeks. You look a little sleepy too.

“We have a groupchat. Why is she always sending stuff to you?”

“Jealous much?”

“What is up with him?” Mattsun noticed Iwaizumi, trying but failing to subtly steal a glance at Makki’s phone.

“He’s brooding.”

“I’m not brooding.”

Oikawa ignored him. “Thinking too hard for his own capacity.”

“Are you looking for a fight?”

“That’s what you might be good at. But why don’t you tell us what are you so upset about?”

“I told you I’m not upset. I’m just…” he brushed a hand through his hair, exasperated. “I just don’t get it. I said what I said to her because I was sure that was how I felt,”

But why do I miss it all so much? He wanted to add.

“How do I fix this?” He asked, looking so helpless and lost as they had ever seen him.

Makki sighed, “If I was her, I wouldn’t want to deal with anything about you anymore,” Very supportive of him, “But unfortunately she likes you a lot.”

“Do you really like her or you just miss the attention?” It was low blow after low blow. He kinda deserved it. Very much.

“I think what they’re trying to say is that you really need to be sure about what you feel if you don’t want to fuck up even worse.”

But when you got back you avoided him like the plague. The contrast was impressive; how you were able to shower someone with affection but when it wasn’t desired you'd sneak around and away with such an ability. He still didn’t know how to approach the topic best, considering how bad that had ended before.

Then you started going back to help during practice, even during the mornings.

“Told you.” Kindaichi elbowed Yahaba, regarding with full admiration at his senpai.

Makki hummed contentedly, “Long time no see you around these premises.”

“Sorry I bailed on you, guys.” You apologized to the rest of the team but they told you you had nothing to worry about. Meanwhile you felt Iwaizumi’s stare burning into you. Was he uncomfortable with you being back? Panic started to bubble up inside you. You weren’t obliged to be there anyway. “Captain. A word?” You squeaked out and before Oikawa could question this new odd behavior of yours you were pulling him away from the group.

Iwaizumi tilted his head observing the interaction. Oikawa threw him a quick glance before he directed a smile at you and you were nodding, looking unsure.

“Okay, everyone, let’s start!” The setter walked over to him and patted his back, then whispered, “Talk to her.”

Light started to fade away as signs of a storm rolled in. It was time to finish for the day.

“Where is she?”

“What? Ah, she just left- Wait- Wait until I tell you where she is! Jeez. She said she left something behind in homeroom.”

Iwaizumi made a run for the classroom and slid open the door. Empty. All these days he didn’t know why he had bothered to fix his hair for the countless times he’d ended brushing his hands through it out of frustration and messing it up. He was messing up a lot lately.

He sprinted his way towards the school entrance just in time to see you stop in your tracks as it started to rain outside. Of course, he had your new umbrella. And he never brought one.

You turned around hearing the flurry of steps headed towards you and there he was, arms dropping at his sides as he gasped, his lungs desperately trying to recover some air. Iwaizumi saw your eyes go wide and for a moment it was like he was able to see every single one of your movements before they reached completion.

“Wai-” You dashed outside and away. Damn. Were you scared of him now?

He groaned in protest before he started to run after you, “YOU’RE GOING TO GET SICK AGAIN!” He managed to say. You kept running like your life depended on it, as if you didn’t hear him. Maybe you didn’t because of the downpour that suddenly surrounded you. “OR BREAK SOMETHING,” he tried speaking between hurried breaths, “IF YOU FALL!”

He grabs hold of one of your upper arms, making you stop and turn around. “You’re pretty damn fast for someone who hates to exercise.” a deep breath, “But I’m faster.”

You wanted him to let go and keep running, but his grip was firm and even if he did let go, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to look away from his eyes. Iwaizumi was staring at you with a new intensity that had your feet rooted to the ground.

“Why are you doing this?” After he tells you to stay away, he chases after you. And now he’s looking stupidly handsome even though he’s soaked from head to toe, his spiky hair pushed down by the heavy droplets that keep falling on you. And his plain t-shirt from practice is sticking to his body - you’re thankful he’s casted a spell on you and can’t break eye contact, you think, in fear of staring-. Somewhere else in the back of your mind, an annoying voice tells you you probably look as if a stray cat had taken a bath.

“I can’t take back what I said.” He starts, “I wish I could because I didn’t mean them that way. And then I realized I didn’t mean them at all.”

That doesn’t enlighten you at all. “What do you mean? You…You mean you still want to be friends?”

“We can’t be friends.”

“Okay, you’re being really confusing right now-”

He closed his eyes and shook his head, “Please,” He knew, but he was trying, “Let me talk before I go crazy.”

You shut up, and listened as he started talking,“I like when you smile at me in the mornings even though you hate to be up early. I like how cute you look while you nap during class and I hope that doesn’t sound creepy at all. And when you tried to make lunch for me and it was so, so bad, but I still ate it because you made it. I like walking home with you and learning about the things you like. I liked all of it and I regret so much saying it was too much because I know it hurt you when it wasn’t even true. I didn’t know how I felt about you because I thought your feelings for me were stronger than mine for you. Because you’re so open about them compared to me. But I like you just the same way, and I’ve missed you these past couple of weeks so much.” He took in a deep breath, then let it out, shuddering, partly because of the cold rain shower, partly for what he was about to say next. “I totally get it if I ruined my chances. I did it to myself. Even though it’s going to hurt like hell knowing I could’ve had you.”

The boy of your dreams was right in front of you, baring his heart and pouring all his feelings out. You should feel ecstatic, overflowed with joy. And you are, warmth seeping in and settling on your chest all while goosebumps crawl on your skin from the chilly weather. And though it is obvious you are, there is some uncertainty in how you look at him and Iwaizumi sees it. He feels something close to desperation even though he knew mending the damage he’d inflicted couldn’t be so easy.

“Is that how you really feel?”

“I wouldn’t joke about something like this.” And you know he wouldn’t.

You lift a hesitant hand to his face and cup his cheek, brushing your thumb gently over it. It feels just as cold as your fingertips. For a moment you’re worried he’ll fade away. Your other hand closes around the front of his shirt and pulls him down into a kiss. He lets out a whimper, surprised by your actions, but he returns the kiss right away. He wonders how he could have been so long without this. Then it is over. So, so, soon. You break away for air but he wants more and this time he kisses you.

When you pull away for the second time, your eyes meet his, “I had to do that.” And he totally understands.

“Would you give me a little more time?”

Though you’re not totally rejecting him, it still stings. But he can do that. He nods fervently, “Yes.”

You’re holding one of his hands and give it a light squeeze, then continue your way home walking this time.

He’s sure this in no way resembles the way you were heartbroken that day, he remembers Makki’s words. It was really messed up.

It was Iwaizumi’s turn to be sick. But unlike you, he recovers faster, back in shape after some bed rest and 3 days out. Oikawa nags at him for being so careless as to run in the rain. He has his suspicions about what happened but doesn’t push him for details. You’re doing better. And though the spiky haired boy looks to be awaiting for something eagerly and seems to stop breathing every time you look at him, he’s doing alright too.

Then it came a sunny morning against a bright blue sky. Iwaizumi was chatting with the captain about an upcoming match when he heard someone arriving into the gym. He turned around and sure enough there you were with Makki, whom you’d ran into on your way there. You stood there staring at each other as if in a frozen picture frame. Only melting when you smiled at him just like only you could do. He blushed but opened his arms wide as you shrugged your bag off - Makki letting out a puff of air after catching the heavy thing out of reflex, saving it from another disgrace- and made a run for it and jumped, legs wrapping around his waist as you hugged him while he kept a strong, safe grip on you.

Fin.

A/N: Hello! I share with you dear reader my first Iwaizumi fic! I had the idea not too long ago and finally started shaping it into words on Wednesday evening, then continued Thursday afternoon/evening, Friday and editing/proofreading today (probably did a poor job at proofreading cuz my brother came home to visit and he distracts me all the time. And that’s why it took me longer to post it). This was a bit complicated to write because I didn’t want the fluff ending to feel baseless, as if Iwaizumi’s feelings bloomed out of nowhere just because reader wasn’t giving her undivided to him, yk? I hoped I achieved that. And that the ending transitioned smoothly? And wasn’t abrupt. Honestly I was just about to finish it after Iwa confessed and they kissed but I wanted him to suffer a bit lol. Oh and Makki being besties with reader . I just loved it. Reader is like sister #3 (like his # too <3). Also it’s been raining for the past two weeks so maybe that’s why it rained so much in this story lol. Let me know what you think, what aspects you liked, if any. Likes, rbs and comments are always appreciated. Enjoy your reading and check out my hq!! ml for more! - Youmarin

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wizzard890 · 4 months ago

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hey femme fashionista extraordinaire! do you have any styling advice for someone looking to add some depth and interest to a mostly black wardrobe? i’ve gotten as far as ‘dye hair interesting colors for contrast’ but beyond that i’m having trouble coalescing around any distinct choices :<

Okay so the way you add depth to a wardrobe of neutrals or a single color is with texture! You're going to want to vary the kinds of fabric your garments are made of. A black top with a pair of black pants and a black jacket doesn't have much contrast; but a silk top with a pair of wool pants and a leather jacket definitely does.

You can also play with volume. Designers like Issey Miyake and Simone Rocha do a lot of interesting things with shape that often work best in a single color.

Volume and texture, keep those words in mind and you'll be shocked at how exciting a black closet can be.

#emily: high femme cyborg stylist extraordinaire

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conductoriya · 2 months ago

Text

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. :* BYF + RULES!

this blog, while containing my writing, also doubles as my personal account. i post a lot about jik, hq, a-24 movies, and other things that strike my interest, but i’ll mostly be posting about my writing.

please filter the tag #jjk spoilers and #jjk leaks if you are not interested in getting spoiled!

when it comes to interactions — i'd like to kindly reiterate once again that this is an 16+ blog. if you are interested in becoming mutuals, sending messages, asks, or liking/commenting on my posts, you need to be at least 16. i check those who follow me, and blank, ageless, and underage blogs shall be promptly blocked.

basic dni criteria applies. zionists, pro-ana, racists, etc. are not welcome here. please don't be mean to me or others! this is a j chill space and me and all my friends hate racists, homophobes, transphobes, etc! also no drama please! i'm just a girl and i do not want to deal with any kind of discourse so please leave me out of it <3

when with regard to my inbox — i know in the past i answered & allowed pretty much everything and anything, however now i would like to look in my inbox and not be met with a long paragraph of a trauma dump/vent! as kind as i may seem, i am not a therapist and things trigger me too! as much i love interacting with you guys, please think twice before sending in something :)

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. :* WHEN IT COMES TO WRITING!

i write only SFW currently, at most suggestive content. comments, reblogs, and asks allegedly motivate me to write more and will be highly appreciated! requests, please do not send me a whole essay, only 3 to 5 sentences is fine! some things i won't write: scat, noncon, kidnapping, piss play, vore, vomit, step-cest/incest, and more will be added as necessary. i reserve the right to refuse any kind of requests for any reason, please do not take it personally.

super busy being a very cool and tired girl working, so please be patient when it comes to updates. i write when i have the time to, but i will try my best to cover everything! nov-feb is probably when i will exhibit the most activity.

• do not translate my writing

• do not repost my work on other platforms

• while i love a good correction here and there, please no criticisms about my writing! i'm here for a good time, so make it a long time <3

• i primarily write afab! or fem!reader perspectives but if you would like a gender-neutral piece, please specify in your request!

• all characters are aged up.

• no plagiarism :( i will clock you.

• if you're interested in requesting, please go through the list of things i won't write first!

• request status: closed.

these are just some of the characters i specialize in. i am open to writing for more, but at the moment, these are what i feel comfortable with!

JUJUTSU KAISEN — gojo satoru, geto suguru, shoko ieri, sukuna ryomen, megumi fushiguro, choso kamo, yuuji itadori, toge inumaki, maki zenin, nobara fushiguro, nanami kento, toji fushiguro, shiu kong, higuruma hiromi

HAIKYUU — miya atsumu, hanamaki takahiro, iwaizumi hajime, suna rintarou, miya osamu, kuroo tetsuruo, bokuto koutaro, akaashi keiji, matsukawa issei, kageyama tobio, oikawa tooru, ushijima wakatoshi, kenma kozume, hinata shoyo, nishinoya yuu, semi eita more to come.

#byf + rules

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captain-hawks · 7 months ago

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Pls pls pls pls can you do a threesome with Mattsun and Hanamaki based on them being in a poly relationship with you?

(say less, i'm so so very here for this<3<3<3)

messy

issei matsukawa x f!reader x takahiro hanamaki

c: 18+ only, smut, teasing, fingering, unprotected p in v, double penetration in one hole, creampies, semi-public sex

SPICY SLEEPOVER WEEKEND — THREESOME EDITION!

“You guys are gross.”

Issei’s lips pause against yours at the sound of Oikawa’s petulant voice, his tongue briefly caressing the swell of your bottom lip before he breaks the kiss to turn his head to the side.

“Like you haven’t kissed more people than you can count,” he counters, reaching out and flicking his friend on the nose for good measure.

“It’s not that,” Oikawa scoffs. “It’s…whatever the hell all of this is.”

As if on cue, Takahiro shifts slightly from where you’re sitting in his lap, his fingertips curling in a soothing motion against the bare skin of your thigh—rucking up the hem of your sundress a little more indecently than it already is in your current position.

“Stop acting like you’re some goddamn prude, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi grumbles, returning to the table with a round of drinks.

There’s a tickling sensation against the inside of your other thigh, and you pinch Issei’s side. He huffs, regretfully giving up just as his fingers brush against your soft cotton panties. While your lower halves are mostly hidden beneath the table, Oikawa still narrows his eyes suspiciously when your breath hitches in your throat as Issei grasps your hip instead, smiling innocently while he snaps the waistband of said underwear.

“Iwa came over once,” Takahiro shrugs, Oikawa’s eyes going wide as Iwaizumi chokes on his drink.

—

“You’re both shameless,” you chide as the three of you make your way to Takahiro’s car afterward, only to find yourself pressed up against the passenger side door, your hips trapped in Issei’s warm grip.

“What did you expect when you decided to wear this tonight,” he murmurs, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the back of your neck.

The way you gasp and arch back into him is—admittedly—not the best course of action if you’re not planning on getting fucked here and now in this deserted, dimly lit parking garage.

Resting his elbows on the hood and staring at you with a smile that’s equal parts endearing and mischievous, Takahiro just shrugs.

Well, it was this dress that sent the three of you tumbling over the edge you’d been dancing on for years, after all—when you were a little too tipsy to think better of jumping into a pool while wearing it at a party last summer.

(An evening that turned into a very long night as you opted to crash on the couch at their apartment after, rather than suffering through the long train ride home in a wet dress.

A very wet, suddenly very translucent dress that hugged every dip and curve of your body as you stood in Issei’s room, arguing that you couldn’t put him out by taking his bed.

The dress had found its way to the floor as your bickering turned to making out, which in turn found his head between your warm, damp thighs, tongue lapping at your folds. Takahiro had barged in, unknowingly, and somehow ended up with his mouth plastered to yours as you whined and moaned against his lips until you came all over Issei’s face.)

“You’re the one that said you wanted to date both of us,” Takahiro grins as Issei nudges you toward the front of the car.

There are probably fucking cameras in here—though you’re too pent up at this point from their teasing all night to really care.

Takahiro’s touch is gentle yet firm as he takes Issei’s place, body folding over yours as he bends you over the hood of the car. Fuck, he’s so hard.

You don’t have to reach between your legs to know your underwear are soaked by now.

The hem of your dress is pushed upward, bunched around your waist as your panties—and the arousal now slowly beginning to drip down the inside of your thigh—are on full display for both of your partners.

You know it’s Issei’s hand that reaches out to drag your underwear aside, the specific way he drags two large, callused fingers through your slick folds a dead giveaway. A soft, keening little sound tumbles from your lips, despite your attempt to bite it back in this treacherously echo-prone environment.

Issei knows you’re holding back, he can see it in the trembling of your thighs, the way your fingertips drag across the smooth paint on the hood of the car.

Takahiro’s body heat seeps into yours as he brings his lips to your ear, “Don’t think there’s an easy way for us to fuck you at the same time here, do you mind if we take turns?”

Though you eagerly nod, cunt clenching in anticipation at finally being filled, you’re not expecting the way they carry out their plan—back and fucking forth.

Literally.

For all the ways you’ve fucked them, there’s something absolutely filthy about this—the way Takahiro’s the one that spits on your pussy for good measure, only for Issei to be the only to plunge inside.

And yet he only stays for two thrusts before Takahiro’s gripping your hips and pounding into you instead, twice, three times.

Then Issei’s cock sinks back inside of you, your cunt spasming and contracting around the back and forth switch between his girth versus Takahiro’s length. You can hear the lewd splash of arousal dripping from your greedy pussy onto the pavement below.

Takahiro’s hands slide down the straps of your dress, your tits spilling out and pressing against the cool metal of the car’s hood as he buries his shaft in you balls deep, groaning about how fucking tight you always are for them.

You want to sob at how empty you feel when he pulls out, a little delirious on how badly you want both of them inside of you at the same time right this very goddamn second—logistics be damned.

Somehow, in between your incoherent, begging, pleading moans each time they ruthlessly swap (having cast any worries about the echoing parking garage to the wayside), Issei seems to get the hint and shuffles the three of you around until your hips are wrapped around his waist, Takahiro’s hands supporting your ass.

And then they’re both somehow plunging inside of your fucked out hole, Issei’s mouth a searing caress against your lips as he swallows down the rising volume of your cock drunk moans. Your cunt greedily takes them both in, dripping a fresh wave of slick arousal as you feel the way both of them shudder and groan at the sensation of their dicks rutting against one another within the tight, slick squeeze of your pussy.

You turn your head to kiss Takahiro, the spit-slick meeting of your lips nearly as filthy as the squelching sounds from between your legs that follow each of their rhythmic, deep thrusts.

When you come, you’re thankful for the steady, strong grip that keeps your trembling limbs in the air while they both fuck you through the tidal wave of pleasure that washes over you, your arms and legs useless in the shuddering aftershocks that radiate through your abdomen and your quivering pussy.

“Where, baby?” Issei pants, sounding just as close to his climax as Takahiro and his now sloppy, inconsistent thrusts.

It’s probably not the best idea, what comes out of your mouth, given that you’re in a short little sundress and have to sit perched on a leather seat for the drive home.

And yet—

“Inside, inside,” you gasp, fingers buried in his hair. “Make a mess.”

Takahiro groans in pleasure, “Fucking hell.”

You’re not the one that’ll be stuck cleaning the seats tomorrow morning, anyway.

“Fuck,” Issei gasps, slamming his cock in to the hilt at the same time as Takahiro, warmth flooding your insides as they simultaneously fill your cunt to the brim with ropes of thick, hot cum, both staying lodged deep inside of you until your tight hole finishes milking them dry.

Just as they’re carefully putting you back down on the ground—Issei fixing the straps of your dress back over your shoulders as Takahiro flattens the skirt of your dress—there’s a familiar, indignant cry from somewhere off in the distance,

“This is a fucking PARKING GARAGE, YOU HEATHENS!”

spicy sleepover masterlist

#issei matsukawa x reader #matsukawa issei x reader #takahiro hanamaki x reader #hanamaki takahiro x reader #makki #mattsun #haikyuu #dee writes #spicy sleepover weekend #hanamaki takahiro #matsukawa issei

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dragonotaku-justineverything · 10 months ago

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What about fluffy, adorable headcanons about Issei & Rias as a couple? Like, their preferred ways of cuddling, romantic dates n stuff :)

Issei genuinely likes cuddling Rias the most when they're facing each other. Not just for a view of her chest, but because it's easier to talk to her that way and he likes seeing her smile before sleeping

Rias adores it when Issei takes her out to experience Japanese culture on their dates, even doing the cliche type of dates you see unironically because she's really excited to actually do them. She also likes learning about Japanese history almost as much, so historical places are also nice to visit for them

Issei asks her if he can buy certain things since she has most of the money between the two of them. Like a cool new anime figure/memorabilia or a snack while they're out. He knows it's mostly not his so he usually asks. Rias in response always gives him a blanket answer of "you don't need to ask me if you want to get something you want. Just get it!" or something similar

Rias is the one that is always super touchy and showing physical affection in public, not Issei. One, it's because she's possessive of him a little bit and wants people to know that he's taken her. Also, she does it to help boost his confidence. She knows that he wants to hold her hand and kiss her when they're out, but he won't because he's a little self conscious about being with her. He thinks she's so much better than him that he doesn't deserve to do things like that since it would reflect poorly on her. So she happily kisses him on the lips in view of dozens of people since she wants him to know that she's with HIM because she loves HIM. He should be the one people are jealous of for a change.

#high school dxd #issei hyoudou #rias gremory #issei x rias #ship headcanons #headcanons #ask #sfw #fluff #anonymous

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lenaariewrld · 9 months ago

Text

dream girl

matsukawa issei ending・ᡣ𐭩

The breeze was cool against your warmed skin, dancing past you, caressing the blades of grass as it went and tickling your legs. It was mostly quiet, birds and bugs chirping and singing in the trees or around you. You weren’t sure when you’d laid down, your back relaxing against the soft blanket, but it felt peaceful. And it felt right when Mattsun laid next to you, his arms folded behind his head.

Your skin buzzed with electricity, a steady thrumming current under the surface as your nerves picked up every millimeter where his skin touched yours. His shoulders against yours, his thigh brushing against your hip, his shoe tapping against your calf on occasion. But it didn’t make you feel on edge. No, instead you felt… safe.

You and Mattsun stared up at the sky in retrospective silence, letting the peace of nature be undisturbed except for your breaths and the music that was barely audible from Mattsun’s phone. The sun had set low, barely any light in the sky and allowing the velvety curtain of nighttime to bleed into the sky. Stars sparkled into your vision the longer you looked, brightly dotting the violet canvas stretched above you. A quiet sigh of content leaves you. This was right. This was nice. It’s reassuring to just have this time, these beats of silence where you can just soak in everything and let the world pass by.

Soon enough, the fireworks began to zip into the sky. Whistles and whoops signalled different ones as they shot up outside of your vision, exploding into a flurry of colors and shapes. You and Mattsun dramatically ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ at each one, giggling at the stupid gasps the other lets out. You feel your cheeks grow warm, and they hurt just a little bit from how hard you find yourself smiling, glancing between the sky and the man lying beside you. His dark eyes seem to reflect every color of the fireworks, glued to them like he was trying to map it all in his mind.

When it all ends, you both remain on the blanket for another minute or two. The wind was tinged with the faint smell of gunpowder and ash, making your nostrils burn if you breathed too deeply.

“Mm, I almost forgot,” With a grunt, Mattsun sits up. He stretches his back and you watch as he turns to pull his bag onto his lap, sitting yourself up as well. You chuckle as he digs around in the bag.

“More surprises?”

He tosses you a playfully stern look, finally taking out whatever he’d been looking for. He places a small paper lantern, folded flatly for the time being, between the both of you. “A bunch of students release these after the fireworks show,” He says quietly, his voice small. Your eyes remain on his face, even as he looks at the lantern or around at the mostly empty field you two find yourselves in. You can’t see as well in this low lighting as you’d like, but you can tell he was blushing, the dark flush to his cheeks obvious to you.

“It’s this… tradition we have,” He adds, turning the lantern around in his hands, finding a blank spot. “We write our names on the inside before we light it and send it out, and it’s supposed to help grant wishes or bring good luck to whoever’s name is in the lantern.” He finally lifts his eyes to look at you, and you’re sure that your face must look about as brightly red as his does the way you feel butterflies erupting in your intestines, flurrying around your stomach like crazy. “I thought it would be a good idea for you to write your name down,” He holds out the lantern to you.

A moment passed between the both of you.

Hesitantly, you reach out, your fingers curling around the delicate paper and holding it closer to yourself. Mattsun had always been sweet. He was weird and his tone was sometimes too serious to tell if he was joking, but it added charm, and he never failed to make it clear that he meant no ill will towards you. He cut off any worries before your brain even had the chance to sprout them. He was good at reading you.

Somehow, in all the time you’d spent with Mattsun, he’d figured out a way to decipher your alphabet, memorized every line on every page of your being, and surmised how to handle you. Like he’d known you for years, and it was just so natural for the two of you to mesh. You blink slowly, your thumb caressing the lantern. “We should write yours too..” You say in a whisper, your voice barely carrying above the wind. Mattsun remains quiet, his teeth dragging against his bottom lip.

“Okay,”

“I know the tradition here..” You add, taking the pen he digs out and allows you to take. You begin by writing his name, careful to make your writing extra pretty for no reason than because you wanted to. “And I think we both deserve some good luck,” You smile, and catch his gaze, the way his grin is crooked on his face and his eyes are staring at you lazily, taking in your aura and your presence as easily as breathing.

You finish writing your names and cap the pen, holding it in your mouth as you unfold the lantern. It wasn’t much bigger than a loaf of bread when it was all said and done, with a small hole at the top, the bottom fitted with a loop of wire to hold the lantern’s flame perfectly in the middle. “Here,” You let him take the lantern to hold it. You feel metaphorical sparks when his fingers brush against your own, a glow seeming to grow in the air that separates you two. It’s bright and almost suffocating, but it wasn’t tense. It wasn’t bad.

Mattsun wordlessly pulls out a lighter and finds the wick for the lantern. A soft yellow flickering grows from inside the paper, and soon enough the tiny lantern is lifting out of the man’s hand, floating up and away from the two of you.

You watch it slink away into the night.

Your lips part in shock as you spot more lanterns, all varying in shape, size, and color, starting to rise into the sky, peeking out from trees or other spots in the field, or drifting from even further along. Carried by the wind to join the others. A feeling rises in your chest, a contentness you’d only felt in small blips or pieces. Times when you looked back and found a pocket of time where you felt truly happy and in your place. Mattsun leans over to bump his shoulder against yours. “What’s rattlin’ in that head?” He asked, the silly phrasing making you laugh softly. Airy.

“I think I like you,” You admit, feeling no hesitation or worry about admitting it. It felt like saying any other fact about yourself, like sharing what your favorite fruits were, or that you preferred one kind of dessert over another. Or that you, for all intents and purposes, had developed a crush on the man.

Mattsun smiles again, his teeth poking from beneath his lips. “I knew already,” His tone is as light as yours, “You were kind of obvious,” He adds. A raucous laugh rips from him when you shove his shoulder hard enough to knock him on his side, giggling all the while as you throw out a noncommittal ‘shut up’. He rolls onto his side, his laughter only growing. He takes a deep breath a second later and reaches out to grab your hand, pulling you towards him. You grunt from the unexpected movement, falling onto his chest.

“I like you too,” He whispers, one of his arms snaking around your waist and keeping you pressed to him. You relax and fold your arms above his chest, your chin on your hands. “So much,” He adds, reaching out to brush some hair behind your ear.

“I know,” As all you say, your tone teasing but nonetheless incredibly soft. It was all you needed in that moment, just to hear him say he’d known and felt it too. You hum as he chuckles, and the both of you fall silent again. This time, you let him stare up at the sky, closing your eyes and pressing your cheek against his chest. You feel his heartbeat underneath your palms, and hear it in your ears. A steady, assured rhythm that seems to calm at the same time you do, urging you to relax further into him. This was where you needed to be…

| three years later...

———

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extras:

y/n and mattsun spent the most time out of all the aoba johsai guys together bc they got along so easily (but all of them were close)

mattsun entirely lied abt what the others were up to so it could just be him and y/n

taglist: closed

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