#matsukawa issei angst

[chimielie]

ghost in the machine

summary: Matsukawa x F!Reader. sometimes two people love each other very much. sometimes they do terrible things to each other.

word count: 1k

cw: cheating, extremely toxic relationship, no one here is likable, breakup, no happy ending

a/n: my bad i was going through something. sorry to the seijoh community. enjoy?

Issei meets you at the train station. It's dry now, but it was raining earlier—his hair is sticking to his face, curling even more than usual in the humidity. He doesn't "believe" in using umbrellas, whatever that means, or in standing beneath the rain shelter, apparently.

"Hey," you say, affecting nonchalance. The look on his face is familiar to you, signalling further storms ahead. You put your hands in his and press your mouth into a little frown. "What's wrong?

"Don't act cute," he says, glancing away, but he doesn't take his hands out of your hold. "This is—hard enough."

Issei does this thing, when he's mad at you, taking longer and longer pauses as he speaks. Leaves you hanging and still chooses all the wrong words.

"Issei, what happened?" You say. You look around, but there's no one else at the station: it's a dismal day, and his workplace is out of the way of pretty much all other human life. Fitting.

He rubs a thumb over yours, slow, pensive.

"I'm just gonna rip the band-aid off," he says, and you almost snort. There's been nothing quick about this process. "I think we should stop seeing each other."

"Another break?" You ask, trying to keep your voice light. "So you can fuck your new building receptionist?"

That's not light. Oops.

"How do you—whatever. No. That's not it. Don't be like that."

"It's what it was last time," you say, frustrated. "And Makki mentioned that he thought she was hot, which means you think she is."

"I don't, and that's not even the point," he sighs. "See, this is what I mean."

"You do," you insist. "But what is your point?"

"My point," he grits, thumb rubbing harder, strong fingers digging into your flesh so hard it almost hurts. "Is that we need to end this. Not a break. We need to break up."

"No," you say, blinking away tears. "I thought we were working on things. I thought we were better."

He pauses again. You let yourself fill up with big, stupid hope, leaning a little closer to him. All you want is one of his hugs, warm and solid and loving. Love me, you want to sob, you don't love me?

You don't, because you would be proving his point. You don't want to guilt him. You don't want to hurt him. You feel nauseous. The whole world is wrong, everything is going wrong.

He doesn’t give you what you need.

"I feel sick," he echoes your thoughts. "All the time. What we're doing to each other—I care about you, I want you to be happy. We—I don't make you happy."

"You do," you plead. "No one else makes me happy like you."

"But that's, like, five percent of the time," he says, jerking you a little closer. You know it's subconscious and it makes you emit a little noise, soft, one you don't want him to hear. "The rest of the time we, we fight, and we get petty, and we act like kids. It's not what it should be."

"I don't care what it should be," you flash. "I don't want whatever it should be. I want this. I think it's worth it. I want to fight for it."

"Well, I don't!" His eyes are burning. You think there's something shimmering in his waterline. "I'm tired. It's—you jerk me around like bait, on a string. I am tired of taking breaks, and getting back at each other, and—"

"I jerk you around?" You say. "Issei, you suggested the first break, you slept with—"

"I know what I did," his voice sounds defeated even as you can hear the underlying anger—deeper, the underlying hurt. "That's what I'm saying, we're damaged, I really don't care whose fault it is."

"Except you clearly think it's mine," you argue. It’s fucked up, that this is what fighting for your love means; how twisted has your knight-and-princess story become?

“Shut up! Just stop—just stop talking for a second.” You press your fingers tentatively to the right corner of his temple and rub small circles into the skin, knowing that’s where he gets headaches from grinding his jaw when you’re driving him crazy. He lets you for a moment, then shakes his head, bats you away. “You shouldn’t let me talk to you like that.”

“I won’t,” you say. “You won’t talk to me like that anymore.”

“That’s so fucked up,” he chokes out a laugh. His dark eyes crease so prettily when he does. “Don’t do that. With the next guy—”

“There’s no next guy!” You yelp, fingers flexing, not sure what to hold on to. If he’s letting go of his jealousy—the world tilts dizzily. He used to tell you, face in a lazy cat smile, body warm and heavy atop yours, that you’d find your next boyfriends on his mortuary table. “What, Issei, there’s not gonna be anyone else ever.”

His lips twist into a sardonic smile. He lets go of you, his hands shaking like he’s just been shocked, cartoon-style, electricity working its way through his body. You reach for him and he shoves his hands in his pockets, lets you stumble over your feet.

“I know you slept with Makki,” Issei says grimly. You stop in your tracks.

“Oh.”

“Oh,” he agreed. “Yeah.”

There’s not a lot to say to that. It doesn’t matter that it was during the worst breakup, a year ago, that it was because you’d seen him kissing one of your friends at a party. It doesn’t matter that it had been a mistake.

“I’m sorry,” you say, and the tears are rolling down your face again. Or it’s started raining. Both. “I’m so sorry. I know.”

There’s an awful screech when the train arrives—his train, going deeper into the country. Yours, back to the city, is due in eight minutes. You can’t stop anything from leaving this station.

“It’s okay. It’s like you said,” he puts his hands on his shoulders, presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips wet with cold rainwater. When did it start pouring? “He thought she was hot, so so did I. I love you, so so did he.”

[hanmaitani]

Overprotective

PAIRING - Bodyguard!Matsukawa x Reckless!Reader WC - 1.0K GENRE - angst CW - mentions of sex w someone else, sex mishaps - not necessarily non con/dub con but it is uncomfortable for reader and she does want him to stop, overprotective matsukawa, tell me if i missed something.

PREV PART | MASTERLIST | NEXT PART

Matsukawa really did try to stop listening when you had people over. But sometimes he couldn’t help it, especially when you were so damn loud. On purpose or not. He occasionally tried to be out of the apartment when you did, leaving a replacement bodyguard at the door if you needed something.

Tonight was one of those nights where he couldn’t get out of the apartment when you had someone over. His headphones were, regrettably, dead since he’d forgotten to charge them after their last use. Your laughter pierced through the wall that separated your room from his.

He’s busy trying to recall every terrible moment from his life and rank them, trying to ignore the sound of you and another man on the other side of the wall. It worked for a moment until he heard something that he never wanted to hear when you had someone over.

You’d been enjoying yourself to a decent extent with the man in your room. He was by no means the best you’d ever taken home, but you’d taken home much worse before as well. He was a decent kisser and he surely gave your chest enough attention as he laid you down on the bed.

It wasn’t uncommon for some of the men to forget all about giving attention to your breasts as they attempted to go straight for their end goal between your thighs. So you took his attention as a good sign. That is, until his hands were pulling your hips towards him without even attempting to prep you first.

“Wai-” you don’t even get the word out before he’s pushing into you and a sharp shriek curls out of your mouth, pain blurring your vision at the sudden feeling. “Slow down, it hurts-” your hands try to push at his chest to make him pause, having not expected it to hurt like that, the feeling new and unpleasant.

“Ah,” he moans at the feeling of how tight you are around him, unaware of what’s wrong, “just give it a second.”

You shake your head. “No,” you whimper softly, “something’s wrong.” You’re already making another request, “it hurts, get off,” as your door slams open.

Both you and the man above you are shocked by the sudden commotion, but the only thing Matsukawa sees is you, your face scrunched in pain saying ‘get off’ and the man above you, not moving.

“Who the fu-” The man above you is unceremoniously cut off as Matsukawa grabs him by his hair and pulls him off you in a fluid motion.

You gasp, gathering the blanket up quickly to cover yourself as the man was tossed into the hallway. You could barely register the sound of Matsukawa’s fist connecting to skin, probably the other man’s, just out of your sight before hurried footsteps and the slam of the front door.

Matsukawa is back in your doorway in seconds, watching you pull an oversized t-shirt back over your body as you curl in on yourself on your bed, still staring at him wide-eyed. “Are-are you okay?” he asks quietly, uncommon for him.

You’re quiet as you nod at him, silently saying that you’re okay, but he can see the way you track his movements that you’re a little shaken and you won’t tell him. He merely sighs and tells you to give him five minutes before you come out into the living room.

When you make your way out of your room finally, he’s put your favorite movie on the television, a bowl of your ice cream in front of your favorite corner of the couch and your favorite throw blanket already laid out for you. You can’t help but look at him in shock and you even pretend to not see the soft blush that covers the top of his cheekbones as he looks at you.

He’s sure to wrap the blanket around you and give you the bowl of ice cream as he hits play for you. “I’ll leave you to watch, okay?” He doesn’t expect you to protest, and you don’t, not aloud. But your hand fists the fabric of his shirt softly and tugs him just a little so he gets the message that he’s invited to sit next to you.

He doesn’t question it and he doesn’t say anything when you curl into his side when he sits down. Your silent thank you and his silent promise to do something like that any time you needed it. He doesn’t make a sound the entire time, doesn’t protest when you fall asleep halfway through the movie, head still propped against his shoulder. But he hates what he realizes then.

That you’ve wormed your way into his heart. Carved out a nice little soft spot for yourself.

He knew that he found you attractive, that was obvious before. But this was different. This was the feeling that he was eternally screwed. That he’d do anything to keep you safe and comfortable not just because it was his job but because he wanted to.

The realization has him laying you down slowly on the couch, leaving you to be undisturbed in your sleep as he makes his way back to his own room, intent on silently cursing himself for letting it happen. Intent on being alone. Until you’re sleepily walking into his room and crawling into his bed, your quiet, sleepy voice asking if you can stay with him for the night.

And how can he say no? How can he do anything except tuck the one pillow he had under your head and let you bury your face against his chest as you snuggle against him. How can he do anything but pull out his phone while you sleep and order another pillow right then, so if you want to do this again he can have one just for you.

How can he do anything but let you be as close as you want whenever you want?

And how his chest aches to have you there, so close and not his.

TAGLIST - OPEN

@boosyboo9206 @faumpje @miyamizuna @all-in-the-fandoms @pearl-blue-musings

@qichun @kennedy-brooke

[satoruxx]

you fiddle with your nails as you walk home at tooru's side, the sounds of mattsun, makki, and iwa bickering further up ahead cutting through the empty streets. you’re uncharacteristically nervous, because god knows you’ve never done something like this before—but you steel yourself because it’s worth it for him.

your feelings for oikawa tooru are all consuming—strong and deep and intense. they’ve been brewing for well over two years now, nourished by the increased amount of time you’ve spent with him. they overwhelm you, washing over your being with an intensity you’ve never felt before, and they drive you to stick by his side for as long as you can—desperate and aching for the boy who puts the stars in your sky.

you know that timing is important because tooru is nothing if not driven—singularly focused on the sport that gives him the air he needs to breathe. so you wait until well after his match with karasuno, giving your all to support him and the rest of the team because volleyball has become important to you after spending so much time with them. you give it time, wait until after the team has taken the time to lament over their missed chance, and after all the third years are ready to move on to the next phase of their lives, before you finally decide to spill your guts to him.

tooru stares ahead as he’s walking, pensive and unsmiling, and you’re dying to know what’s going on in his head. his eyes are bright, a contrast to his expression, and there’s a resolute glint in his irises that has you feeling oddly shaken. when you reach his house, the rest of the group waves back at him before continuing on, and you realize this is your chance.

so, dangerously, you put your heart on the line.

you tell him everything you've ever thought about him—how you admire his drive and his passion, how you have looked up to him for years and years. how you have never felt so deeply for someone before knowing him. it comes out in a rushed ramble of words, all those nights of practicing in the mirror doing nothing for you in the actual moment. you stumble a few times, your face getting warmer with every word, and yet as each sentence falls forth you feel a weight lift from your shoulders—the flesh of your lungs clatter against your ribs, anxious and eager.

tooru inhales, gaze darting between your eyes and then flitting downwards. even in the dark of the night, you can see the pinkish hue crawling up his neck, can see the way he fidgets with his own fingers. he stares at you, lips parted as a wide array of emotions flit over his handsome features—they finally settle into a strange combination of apologetic and resigned.

and then he tells you no.

he tells you that volleyball will always take precedence, that he has already mapped out his future, which is too far away from you. he tells you about argentina and how his mind is made up. he tells you that he's flattered, that he's glad you're friends but that's all he can do right now.

“i'm sorry,” he says with a grimace. he studiously avoids looking at you, but you can't stop staring at him—your stomach sinks as he turns to head inside.

it takes you months to muster up the courage to tell him. it takes him two minutes to say no to you.

the rejection stings in a way that is unfamiliar, and you take a shaky breath as you walk down the street to catch up with the others.

the humiliation makes itself known in the form of a painful lump in your throat—unmoving and heavy. when you glance up you see that the third years have hung back, waiting for you. makki is wearing a knowing grin, but it falters when he sees your expression. mattsun, ever observant, seems to immediately understand, and he wordlessly slings an arm over your shoulder.

all you can do is awkwardly chuckle, knowing that it sounds weak and throaty as you shake your head. “i feel stupid,” you admit, voice wobbling as heat burns through your skin—unpleasant and unwelcome.

“you're not stupid,” makki mutters, hands shoved deep in his pockets as his lips slant regretfully. you stare at the ground, nodding slowly under the weight of mattsun's arm. your lungs ache, and you know that if you open your mouth, you will lose it entirely. so all you can manage to do is look up at iwa with glassy eyes and trembling lips and a rueful smile that probably makes you look as pathetic as you feel.

you don't notice the way his fists are clenched at his sides, nails digging indents into his palms. he grits his teeth, gaze flitting to oikawa's house in the background, but he doesn't say anything.

none of them speak as they walk you home, and you try your best to keep the sniffles to a minimum, too embarrassed to look at them.

you've never felt pain like this before, and it's hard to get over it because everything reminds you of tooru. it's like someone has taken a knife and carved into your ribcage, grasping your heart before taking it out crushing it between bloodied fingers. but even despite the gaping hole in your chest you know that there are expectations to be met, things to be done.

that's the strange thing about your silly unrequited love—it hurts and hurts and hurts some more until it stops one day before you can realize it. even though your chest is still bleeding you go on with life—you go to university, you get a job, you pay bills. you get up in the morning and brush your hair and drink water and tie your shoes until the wound closes itself up. you start smiling a little wider and laughing a little freer until oikawa tooru is nothing more than an old name.

and of course there are instances where you are reminded of him and what could've been, whether it's seeing milk bread in a supermarket or passing by children hitting a volleyball over a net out in the sun. you know very well that your friends are occasionally still in contact with their old captain, not that this bothers you. after all, mattsun, makki, and iwa were very careful not to bring him up around you, which you're grateful for. so even hearing the name in passing becomes easier.

it is difficult until it isn't anymore.

you've all but forgotten him now, after years and years and years—nothing more than a distant memory.

so imagine the sinking feeling of dread pooling in your stomach when you walk into the restaurant on makki's birthday and see oikawa tooru sitting at the bar, drink in hand. his eyes are alight as he laughs at whatever conversation he's joined, dark hair falling into his eyes messily.

one step forward, ten steps back.

for a second you can't help but stare, breath stolen from your lungs because it feels like the knife is back and twisting itself into your flesh all over again. there is a panic rising in your throat, suffocating and overwhelming and jarring.

tooru lifts his glass to his lips, hiding his grin as his gaze lazily travels over the expanse of the room.

another surge of panic. the familiar sting of humiliation.

he pauses as he's about to take a sip, brown eyes widening when they land on you, and you see the sharp inhale he takes. his stare doesn't waver, too consumed by shock to look away.

and yet that's all you can do—tear your eyes away because you're different now and it's long gone and you know there is no point in going down that rabbit hole again.

it was a lifetime ago—it's done now.

but you will never know how long tooru thought of you after that night back in high school. you will never know that he felt sick to his stomach when he saw the way your face fell at his rejection. you will never know that he bit his tongue so hard it bled as he watched you walk away from him. you will never know that he spent countless nights in argentina wondering what you were up to and how you were. you will never know that sacrificing you for his beloved sport was the hardest thing he's ever done.

so imagine the sinking feeling of dread tooru feels when he sees the way your eyes light up as you find your way over to iwa's side.

@teddybeartoji this is for you mickey ily hehehehehe

[renardiererin]

issei matsukawa is the type of guy who would start your relationship as fuckbuddies… then friends with benefits… until you’ve got him staying the night at your house like clockwork, a drawer in your dresser & a toothbrush in your bathroom, a designated spot on the couch & your fridge is always stocked with his favorite snacks. he’ll sit and watch you get ready and he’ll queue up your favorite hype songs on spotify to get you feeling cunty and hot while you prepare for your day, tracing hearts on your hip bones as he sits beside you, but he swears you’re just friends. friends whose benefits have gotten a little more than physical.

[cottonlemonade]

Dating You For A Bet [Part 1]

word count: 1767 || avg. reading time: 8 mins.

pairing: university AU!Matsukawa x chubby!Reader

genre: angst

warnings: some swearing

It was becoming increasingly harder to ignore the barely hidden stares and whispers surrounding you. You looked up to check if maybe you were just imagining things but the hastily averted eyes and hush of voices solidified your suspicion that you were once again the talk of the town. It happened many times before that you, the chubby foreigner with the mediocre grades but big opinions during seminars, were subject to gossip and after a year of studying in Tokyo, you were somewhat used to it. The gossip died down a few months after your arrival only to spike exponentially when the handsome middle blocker of the varsity volleyball team came up to you one day during lunch and with a disarming smirk that belonged on the pages of scandalous romance novels simply sat down across from you, asking if you enjoyed the miso soup that was hardly touched and by now stone cold on your tray. Oblivious to any kind of possible flirting you just shrugged and went back to your phone when a long finger tapped gently on your knuckles to get your attention. Matsukawa tilted his head a little and asked if you’d like to study with him later in the library and you agreed and it all just developed from there. He did have to spell it out for you that he was interested since you just assumed that he was being nice like most guys you talked to but you quickly came into the dessert-like luxury of being acknowledged as his girlfriend, fingers entwined, him pulling your legs over his lap when you lounged on a bench on the university grounds, talking about anything and nothing for six glorious, sunny months. You were in fact waiting for him right now, keeping your backpack on the seat next to you just in case someone dared to plop down. Giggles and pointing now joined the stares and whispers and frowning a little you pulled out your phone to text your boyfriend how long he’d be.

“Sorry! Sorry. Hey, I said sorry, now shoo~“ Your tall glass of water of a man shuffled through the row of seats a minute later and a little out of breath from running over from another building got comfortable and produced his laptop from his messenger bag. “Thank you, beautiful.”, he panted when you brought the straw of your iced coffee to his lips.

“What’s up?”, he asked when you didn’t lean in as usual for a kiss. Following your gaze he looked around the lecture hall. Some people quickly turned the other way again while others just blatantly continued their gawking.

“What’s going on?”

“No idea but I feel like it has something to do with me.”, you said quietly. Slouching further down in your chair you added, “Maybe some stupid rumor again in the class forum. Like last time when they thought I only have one pair of pants because most of my jeans just have the same cut.”

“Well, better check it out so I can vehemently defend my girl against any and all evil doings that are being evil done.”, he said chivalrously and grabbed his phone from his jacket pocket. But after a bit of typing you saw all color drain from his face. His usually relaxed half hooded eyes widened in shock and he quickly locked the screen.

“Babe.”, you gave a nervous chuckle, “What is it?”

“Nothing.”

You raised a brow. “You do realize that I also have access to that site and can check myself.”

Slowly, very very slowly he handed you his phone and with a few swipes it unlocked.

Sure enough the community forum of your year was open and a set of screenshots from a group chat was pinned to the very top.

You recognized one of the profile pictures. It was Issei’s old one before he changed it to a photo of you and him kissing at a lake.

Your boyfriend meanwhile sat silently next to you, staring at his hands.

Three minutes passed in which the air around became thick with tension.

You swallowed the impossibly large lump that had formed in your throat while you read, then stared ahead at the many other students now obviously waiting for you to react.

But you were not about to give them the satisfaction. You tossed the phone back into your … into Matsukawa’s lap and having no patience to put your things away, just grabbed tablet, notepad, pen and phone awkwardly in one hand, your backpack in the other and got up.

“Please let me out.”, you said calmly.

“Y/n, I-“

“I said, let me out.”

Matsukawa stood up to let you pass, so did the other people in your row. You felt your eyes burn but you willed yourself not to cry or breathe until you left this room.

Stoically, you walked up the few steps towards the double doors when you heard shuffling behind you and a hand grabbed your wrist. You didn’t have to turn around to know it was him.

“Princess, please-“

You yanked yourself free and reached for the handle.

“Mr Matsukawa, Miss L/N.”, the voice of the professor who had finally arrived stopped you in your tracks, “May I remind you that in order to pass my class you need an 80% attendance rate? Especially you, Mr Matsukawa, if you leave now I’m going to have to fail you.”

Grim satisfaction filled your head when you pushed open the door to leave him behind.

He should stay like a good boy. He should have the decency to give you a head start to go to his dorm so you could collect every single thing you ever left there and you began to wonder if you’d need one or two trash bags for all the crap he kept in your room.

But much to your surprise the door behind you didn’t close as quickly as you thought. Familiar footsteps caught up to you.

“Y/n, it’s not what you think.”

Your heart began to sting and twist; the tears, no longer under your control, streamed down your plump cheeks when you spun around.

“Alright.”, you began, letting out a quivering breath to steady your voice, “Tell me. Explain to me why you obviously making a bet with your jerky friends about getting me into bed is not what I think. Oh, and make sure you use small words for the foreigner. Go on. Make me laugh.”

“Gorgeous-“

“Don’t call me that.”

He flinched. He looked small, kneading his hands like that, head ducked between his shoulders and staring at your shoes.

“Y/n…”, he said but then fell silent.

“That’s what I thought. Don’t talk to me. Don’t call me. Don’t come near me ever again.”

You turned on your heel and not caring about the highly entertained grin some passersby threw your way you hurried out of the building.

Issei looked after you for a long while, then he returned to the lecture hall.

You lay on your bed, arm over your eyes and heating pillow on your tummy. Ever since this morning you hadn’t been able to eat anything and were now paying the price for trying to keep down an old milk bread bun you had found squashed at the bottom of your backpack. Without all of Matsukawa’s stuff cluttering your side of the room it felt a lot emptier. All the plushies from the arcade he’d won for you, his spare Pyjamas (kept hidden under your bed) for when your roommate was out of town, a bouquet of flowers, impulsively picked from someone’s front yard that you had pressed and framed, a tattered old jersey from his high school team he left for you as a makeshift pillowcase so you could breathe him in if he couldn’t be with you - all of that was stuffed into a bulging black trash bag by the door. It genuinely surprised you that your phone had stayed silent all day. In the very back of your mind, a small unwelcome part of you had hoped that he’d try to talk to you despite your warnings. That he would try to explain himself and get you back but then again it had all just been a game to him, right?

The rustling of paper had you sit up. A folded note slipped under your door. You got up to investigate. The handwriting, almost illegible chicken scratches, and almost illegible, was unmistakable. Fighting the urge to read it, you simply crumpled it up and threw it away, proud of yourself. But when you turned to go back to bed, another note appeared.

It looked identical to the first.

“What the…”, you muttered, and as you balled up this new message you called through the door, “Go away!”

But a third note, the same as the first two, swished towards your feet.

You had enough and pulled the door open.

Crouching before you, a stack of paper in his arms, was Matsukawa, arm outstretched with yet another note, ready to deploy apparently.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I-“

“Didn’t I tell you that I don’t want to see you again?”

“Well…”

“Well what?”

“Technically you didn’t see me. U-until… now.” You glared at him and he quietly added, “Loophole.” in a weak attempt to lighten the mood.

“Are you seriously trying to be cute right now?”

“No! Not at all, I- uhm, did you read the message?”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Okay, give me five minutes to explain. Please!”

“What’s there to explain? Your dumb friend offered you a dumb bet and your dumb ass accepted it. With zero hesitation, might I add.”

“Yes, but-“

“Did you get the money?”

“What?”

“You heard me, did you get the money?”

“I… yes.”

“Did you feel guilty for getting the money?”

“Babe- I mean, y/n”, he quickly swerved after seeing you seething with rage at the nickname, “the money didn’t matter! I was hopelessly in love with you the moment you pushed Makki into the pool.”

He shuffled half a step closer to you and took a whole one back again when you frowned.

“That party was in July. We started dating in the spring. So for the first half of our relationship you were just pretending?”

“N-no! That’s not what I - no!”

“Take your shit and get out of my sight!”

“Listen to me, I won’t let you go! You’re the best thing that ever happened to me! I know I don’t deserve you but please don’t leave me! I love you, y/n!”

“Goodbye!”

And after chucking the trash bag into his face you slammed the door shut.

art: I wasn’t able to find out who the OG artist was. If you know, please lemme know and I’ll add

[part 2]

[rintarousgirl]

dating matsukawa issei is like...

a/n: please enjoy the headcanons! off topic but i have like 60 followers rn and i just want to say thank you very much and please send in requests!! beware of the smut below the cut (all smut is post timeskip)

★ - before dating matsukawa, you'd been crushing on him. and you'd been crushing on him for a while. ever since your first year of high school you'd found yourself growing incredibly fond of the heavy-lidded boy in your mathematics class.

★ - three years later, halfway through your third year, you confess to him on Valentine's Day. he's amused by your confession, watching you stare at your feet as you hold out a small box of chocolates and pink letter with neat handwriting out to him.

★ - it's more surprising to you when he accepts, curious and teasing the shy girl who'd confessed to the closed off matsukawa issei.

★ - he's very comfortable with you right off the bat, and there's no special milestones for things. he sits with you at lunch, or well, he drags you over to his table and introduces you to his volleyball friends.

★ - he always has an arm around your shoulders or waist. he likes holding you close to his side, enjoying how small you felt next to how tall he was. you certainly weren't complaining.

★ - loves hugging you from behind, resting his chin on your head and his hands dangling off your shoulders. also a big ego boost for him about his height.

★ - loves lazy cuddling in his bed. holds you close as the two of you watch a movie at his house. you groan when he falls asleep, but he grumbles and says, "how can I help it when you're so soft?"

★ - holds your chin when you kiss, so you can't get embarrassed and pull away. of course, if you want to stop, he will, but he won't let you hide. not from him.

★ - carries your bags and books for you in the school hallway.

★ - you have a box in his closet with all your belongings for when you're over there. sweatshirts, underwear, etc...

★ - handholding is a must. he's a surprisingly affectionate guy for seemingly being so lazy.

★ - buys your favorite flavor of chapstick so he always tastes good for you when you kiss. it's small, but it's sweet and thoughtful.

★ - always is sharing clothes with you. sometimes he'll purposefully leave his sweatshirts at your house in hopes you'll show up to school the next day.

★ - always buys you your favorite chocolates before dates. he'll stop by the store and grab them, even if you guys are just going to a picnic in the park or something.

★ - loves swimming. he loves to drag you and the other third-years to go swimming with him. is constantly pushing you off the dock and then jumping in after to you and pretending he didn't.

★ - is always willing to give piggyback rides when your feet/legs hurt. volleyball has built up a lot of muscle for him, and lifting you is no harder than lifting his baby brother.

★ - petnames include "baby, sugar, and sweetheart." along with multiple silly nicknames based on your name.

★ - dating matsukawa issei feels like summer all over again, even in the deep frostbite of japan's winter season. he's warm and soft and cuddly. he feels like late mornings in bed, sheets tangled and the sun peering in through the windows. it feels like freshly washed linen and blooming gardens. matsukawa issei feels like a breath of fresh air.

★ - matsukawa pins your wrists above you as you fuck, watching you gasp and squirm and be completely unable to do something about it as he overstimulates you.

★ - matsukawa can't keep his mouth off you. he's kissing your lips, your breasts, sucking deep marks into your neck, biting at your hips.

★ - matsukawa pounds into you until the sheets beneath you both are soaked with your fluids and the only noise leaving you are soft little "ah-ah-ah"'s.

★ - matsukawa loves to brush your hair from you eyes and watch as they cloud over with lust and want.

★ - matsukawa can't help but smirk and grow a bit hard when he sees you in your bathing suit.

★ - he loves sweet dirty talk.

★ - "can't help but touch you when you look so pretty just for me, baby."

★ - doesn't let you hide your face. "c'mon baby, let me see your face when you cum."

★ - is obsessed with eating you out. he loves the way you taste, and feels intoxicated when he's between your thighs. matsukawa issei is totally pussy drunk off you.

★ - he absolutely adores teasing you in public, watching you blush and bite your lip as your thighs rub together. you try so hard to maintain conversation with oikawa, iwaizumi, and hanamaki but you can't help the way you stutter and squirm as his hand brushes your clit, fingers touching you through your soaked panties.

★ - he loves it when you whine and cry for him.

★ "please," you gasp, reaching for him. he pins your hands above your head with one hand of his own, and your hips buck lightly. "i need you, issei."

★ - "shh, don't cry baby," he'll coo as he kisses your wet cheeks, "i'll touch you baby, i promise."

★ - he begs for just the tip after a stressful day at work, and he keeps his promise to go no further but you can't help the way you twitch and squirm. he'll hide his face in your neck, his hand firmly planted on your hip as he tries so hard not to bottom-out in you.

★ - laughs as your hands fumble with his belt, shaking and desperate for his cock.

★ - covers his mouth and hopes his groans are relatively quiet when you sneak under his desk while on a video call with his clients at the funeral home. tries his hardest to stay focused as you lick along his length and pop his tip into your mouth.

★ - loves semi-public sex. he'll fuck you in a closet at a family gathering, tease you under the table, grind against you behind the kitchen counter while everyone else is in the kitchen.

★ - has very high stamina and can easily go a handful of rounds. your pleasure always comes before his anyway.

[mollyrolls]

stop the clock 𖦹 matsukawa i. x reader

day 1: the bet

prev. / mlist. / next

next in queue: roxanne - the police

Issei pushes open the door of the corner store, the air conditioning chilling the sweat on his skin. One clear chime rings out, echoing in the silence.

He doesn't need cherries. He knows they don’t, he got two jars yesterday and neither have been opened. Yet, he’s back at the market. Coming to buy cherries.

It’s also to see her again. Issei has no idea if she’d be working today, considering he doesn’t even know her name. Let alone a schedule. But if she wasn’t there, he could just ask a coworker for her name.

But maybe name is too creepy? He definitely couldn’t ask when she’s working next, that’s serial killer levels of stalker. And he was willing to play it cool. If something came up, he’d work it out.

“Welcome in.”

Her cadence is already familiar to him, and he feels his shoulders simultaneously loosen and tense. Any thoughts he had about restraining himself and playing it cool fly instantly from his head.

He turns on his heel, redirecting his path to walk in front of the counter. She’s sucking him in like a magnet.

He mutters a hey to her as he passes, but her earphones are in their rightful spot. Elastic rubber band is probably playing too loudly for him to be heard. It’s frustrating losing to a flimsy piece of wire.

Issei makes quick work of his shopping, choosing to forgo the mints completely. She didn’t seem to care about them in the first place. So it’s a quick grab of a pot of maraschino cherries and he’s right back up front.

She pays him even less attention than she did yesterday. He tries not to let it get to him, still confident in his plan to sway her.

She’s so distracted that he’s allowed a moment to peer over the counter to what she’s working on.

Her phone lights up once, a few texts slowly filling in. His main focus is on the sketch pad she’s hunched over, and the way that her mouth folds as she bites down on the inside of her lip.

He can’t quite make out what she’s working on, but he does note several sloppy hatch marks that shade some kind of background.

Issei tries to shift his head and get a clearer view, but his movement in her periphery alerts her to his presence.

For someone who was so stoic yesterday, her face does a poor job of hiding her reactions when she’s surprised. Issei watches in amusement as she notices him, recognizes him, panics when she thinks he saw her work, and rapidly schools her face into nonchalance.

She’s not as subtle with the covering of the notebook. He feels the tiniest bit bad for trying to pry on something she’s clearly protective of. He’ll be sure to course correct.

“Hey.” He starts, donning a warm and lazy smile.

“Hi. Did you find everything okay?” She responds, hesitant to act particularly casual towards him. She’s clearly on her guard, a bit like a scared animal.

“Just as easily as yesterday.”

Silence falls between them, Issei standing there and staring while she waits for him to hand over his groceries. He thinks briefly that he could hold her hostage like this, allowing him the chance to appreciate her in the way that he longs to.

Every second spent with her, simply in her presence, sends Issei further into this lovestruck spiral. One that he’s walking into with open arms.

She clears her throat, shifting awkwardly on her stool. “Excuse me, sir. Are you going to purchase those or just stare at me?”

“Mattsun.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Call me Mattsun.” He replies, finally handing her the cherries. “Or Issei, if you’d like. But Mattsun is just fine.”

No response. She notes the cherries, looking up at him unamused, and scans it quickly.

“I told you, shirley temples are popular.” He starts, falling back into the song and dance they had yesterday. Waiting for a topic that excites her, which he’ll cling to.

“Mmmhmm. Cash or card?”

“Card. You know me.” He fishes it out once again, taking even longer this time. He even picks out his personal card, just to put it back and get the work one.

He dangles it, just out of her reach. She doesn’t bite, and they sit in another wave of silence, staring at each other.

Issei is loving it. She looks like she’s watching paint dry.

Finally she sighs, realizing Issei is getting what he wants by prolonging the interaction.

“I win.” He smiles at her while she reaches toward him. He momentarily thinks about pulling it farther, but remembers his promise.

He’s playing the long game.

So she takes it, expression still indifferent. The same taps on the register, the grind of the receipt.

“Hey, you didn’t ask me about that!”

She deadpans further. “Do you want a receipt.”

He knows his grin is stupid. “Yes, please.”

It’s dropped into the plastic bag, both thrust toward him with more annoyance than yesterday.

“Thank you for shopping at Kumonoue. Have a good night.”

“Oh!” He remembers, ignoring her goodbye. “I heard a good song this morning.”

She continues to look unimpressed. “I have work to do, sir. Other people need help.”

He brandishes his arm around, theatrically scanning the store for another living thing. When he finds none, he turns back to look at her with humor all over his face.

She just sighs under her breath, settling back on the stool and resigning herself.

He’s never been picky. Attention is attention, and hers is hard earned.

“It’s Mattsun. Anyways. It was Connection, by Elastica. You ever heard of them?”

His joke is not well received. Maybe he had pushed his luck too much earlier, and she really was getting sick of him. Or even worse, uncomfortable. He knew it was a bit of a toss up, but her reaction to his foolishness yesterday led him to think he had better odds.

Her face screws up slightly, looking a little betrayed. Before Issei could blink, she’s standing from the stool and disappearing behind a backroom wall.

“Oh, hey! C’mon, I’m sorry.” He calls out, hoping she can still hear him. “That was just a stupid joke, I wasn’t trying to be mean.”

Still, no response. Issei starts to kick himself, truly ruining his chances before he ever had a real shot. All of his flirtatious experience seems to fall away as soon as he’s near her, leaving her immune to his charm.

She emerges again, holding a box of some beverages on her hip. Making no motion to talk, or even acknowledge Issei anymore, she leaves him standing in the front of the store. Feeling like a dejected, rejected schoolboy.

Now, Issei has a choice. He could leave, tail tucked between his legs and with a bad taste in his mouth. Or, he can try again. Could make it worse, but he could also make it better.

The choice isn’t hard to make.

He waits a few moments before following her, focusing all his energy on seeming apologetic and polite.

He settles a few feet away from her, leaving at least one aisle of space between them. “You don’t like me very much, do you?”

She startles at his voice, seemingly surprised that he’s still around.

“Um. I don’t know you.” She doesn’t sound scared, or uneasy. But she’s also not pleased.

“Would you want to change that?”

“Look.” She looks over her shoulder, still crouched down by the drinks. He notices how much energy she commands without trying, her nonchalance feeling intimidating and overwhelming despite being half his height.

“I’m not interested in anything. No boyfriend, no one-night stands, no hookup buddies, nothing. You should quit while you’re ahead.”

“Okay. That works for me.”

She cuts him a cool glare, not buying it for a second. Granted, she’s absolutely correct in her assumption, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

He leans against the side of the aisle, matching her energy. “We can just get to know each other. Would that be so bad? Being friends?”

She thinks for a second before humming noncommittally, trying once again to return to her work. Issei lets her stack about three drinks before trying again.

“Do you like to bet?”

“What.” She doesn't bother to look back. She’s probably getting whiplash.

“Do you like to bet. Like, if I proposed a bet to you, would you take it?”

“Money involved?”

“Of course.”

“Does it include you leaving the store?”

“Nope.”

“Oh well. Worth a shot.” She stands, turns, and leans back against the fridges. Arms crossed, but not combative like he might have thought. It’s almost like she’s indulging him.

“Let’s hear it.”

When he had planned this bet last night with Suna, he had predicted at least seven different ways it could have gone. Using it as a last ditch effort to make her not hate him was surprisingly not one of them.

Issei takes a shaky breath and clears his throat. He wants the floor to eat him whole, but he still asks it with confidence. “I’ll bet you ¥8000 you’ll fall in love with me by the end of the month.”

Her eyes widen. Not with fear, but in disbelief.

She covers her mouth, poorly hiding a laugh. “¥8000? That’s like, half a shift.”

“I work at a barely-in-business bar, I only have so much.” He responds, trying to stay cool. Every time she chooses to indulge him his heart kicks up; he loves the challenge she poses to him.

She takes a moment and Issei swears the world comes crashing to a halt. It’s nothing special, a sideways glance, peering at him through her eyelashes. But she’s got that crinkle by her eyes again, a soft and genuine smile donning her features. Almost wide enough to see her teeth, but she’s not that generous.

“Yeah, alright. ¥8000 is ¥8000.”

Issei fully stumbles. He can hardly believe his luck. Not only did she not view him as a creepy stalker, she tolerated him enough to take the bet.

She graces him with a laugh. “You’re something else Mattsun.”

“You remembered my name?”

She shrugs. “Yeah. You’re kinda hard to forget about.”

He’s almost positive she didn’t mean it as a compliment, but the implication that she’s thought about him at all is enough to send him spiraling. Not to mention how nice his name sounded coming from her voice. If he could live off that alone, he would.

“Now, are you going to bother me more or can I do my job?”

He simply raises a hand, pointing one finger up.

“Just one more thing. You know my name, what’s yours?”

She takes another moment, chewing at the inside of her cheek. The only noise being the whirr of the fridges and Issei’s bated breath.

“Mmm. I’ll let you figure it out.”

She grins, almost evilly, and he suddenly feels very excited for tomorrow.

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better than i ever even knew

NSFW - MINORS AND BLANK/AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

fem!reader. pet names (princess, sweetheart, pretty girl, baby), minor angst start but happy ending, confessions, frenemies to lovers, porn with feelings on feelings. multiple orgasms, oral (f! receiving), mating press, riding, unprotected sex, matsukawa can and will fold u like a pretzel. if there's anything i missed, pls let me know, enjoy :)

"something you'd like to say to me, issei?"

makki had fallen asleep on your movie night, and you'd excused yourself to use their bathroom, only to find matsukawa waiting in the hallway for you after. he's caged you in somehow, pinned you to the wall like an insect on corkboard, with nothing more than his commanding presence and a notably large hand to the wall beside your head. he looms over you, imposing.

like he always seems to be, only to you.

his face is mere inches from your own, his eyes dark, half-lidded like they always are - but there's something different this time, something deeper and a little more dangerous.

you can't help but watch his tongue dart out to wet his lips. they look even more plush and irresistibly pink from this close.

you've always wondered what they'd feel like between your teeth.

matsukawa snorts, eyes narrowing even further. "don't play coy, princess."

too stubborn to admit that the intensity of his gaze flusters you and clouds your mind too much to think of a witty reply, you avert your eyes and direct your focus on the hood of his jacket instead. "stop calling me that," you spit, at the strings of his hoodie, just as unwilling to address how his pet name for you has started to make heat bloom beneath your skin lately. he's been calling you that for years, and you used to find it endearing, used to blush for an entirely different reason when he spoke it.

now, it grates on your nerves.

it grates on your nerves how much you like it, how much you want him to call you that in other less than wholesome scenarios.

matsukawa hums thoughtfully, tilts his head in wonder. "what's gotten into you lately, hm? you've never had any problems with it before." he inches closer to inspect your expression.

you turn your head completely to avoid looking at him directly, so his gaze falls on the side of your face.

which might not have been the best idea, because it exposes the flush rising up your neck and to your cheeks.

matsukawa reaches up with his free hand and cradles your jaw, gentler than you expect. he traces the line of it with his thumb, making the back of your neck prickle pleasantly, stopping at your chin to move your head to face him. there's a tender sincerity in his eyes that you've rarely seen in him, all traces of the mischief prior completely gone, replaced with genuine concern. "are you alright?" his voice is nearly a whisper.

your mouth goes dry. the tension between you has morphed into something similar yet more profound, something that you're not sure you're ready to explore. you nod once, still averting your eyes.

"why have you been avoiding me?" he says softly, and if you didn't know any better, you'd think he almost sounds pained. "i miss you."

you think your heart stops beating.

so he'd noticed. you shouldn't have expected any less, really - you've been friends for years, you know each other like the backs of your hands.

you aren't sure when you'd started to want more from him. and concluding that it was unfair for you to expect that of him and not wanting to cross the boundary, the foundation you'd built as good friends, you'd started to withdraw. gradually, lessening your invites to him when it proved too painful for you to be alone together with him, making excuses when he extended the invite to you.

you aren't sure what it helped - it hurt all the same, and you couldn't help but feel bitter that you were in this situation, all because you felt things for him that you didn't think you should. bitter at him, though he doesn't deserve it - he's been there for you ever since you could remember - and bitter at yourself, for putting you both through it. and here he is, scorned even more by your distance too.

your eyes well up with guilt as you let his words sink in, and it's all you can do to blink the tears away before they fall.

"hey, i'm sorry, prin-" matsukawa falters, seems to catch himself, and it pains you even more how considerate he's being though you've been so cruel to him and hadn't meant what you said. "whatever it is, it'll be okay. don't waste your tears on me." oh, if only he knew.

he tilts your chin up to face him once more, swipes his thumbs gently beneath your eyes to collect the stray tears that manage to escape. you want to weep at how tenderly he treats you, how much it makes you want him even more, and he has no idea.

you can't help but scowl again. you hate how much you love him.

you grab his wrists and hold him away from you. "stop it, stop being so nice to me all of a sudden." your voice sounds thick with emotion even to you, and you hate that, too.

matsukawa's undoubtedly stronger than you, and he can undo your grip easily, but he doesn't. instead, that stupid, cocky smirk is back, sensing that you're nearly back to your normal, stubborn self.

but then he says something that turns your world completely on its axis.

"why shouldn't i be nice to the only person i've ever been in love with?"

his eyes are sincere, the most open and honest you've ever seen them.

you're frozen, unsure of what to say, how to process it, unsure if you're somehow dreaming. you drop his hands, but he takes yours again, the warmth of his palms in yours grounding you back to the moment.

"i don't expect you to feel the same way. i'll always love you as a friend, so please don't cut me out of your life." he squeezes your hands once, brings one up to his face so he can touch his lips to your knuckle, barely a graze of skin that leaves you wanting more, before letting you go. he shrugs, gives you a charming, lopsided smile, but you can tell he's trying too hard to be nonchalant. "don't think too hard about it. i'll leave you alone now, i'm sorry."

you catch the hem of his shirt on instinct just before he can walk away. "issei, wait."

he stops, but doesn't swivel back around to you. you can't help but wonder what kind of facial expression he's making. as it is, you can't bear to look at him, focusing instead on your thumb and forefinger pinching at the fabric of his shirt.

"issei...." it's then that you notice his hand closest to you is trembling lightly, and it makes your breath hitch. "are you serious?"

"i wouldn't joke about something like that," he says, and his voice is a lot softer.

"then....look at me and say it." you gather your courage to meet his eyes and tug him back, closer than he was before.

a tingle rushes up your spine when he fixes his gaze back on yours, and that infuriating, lovely little smirk is still in place. there's a soft intensity in his eyes that you've never seen before, and it makes every one of your nerves ignite.

"i'm in love with you, dummy."

the sudden rush of emotion makes you surge up to capture his lips. finally.

it surprises him, you can tell, but he only stands frozen for a tenth of a second before it seems like he's awoken and his lips are moving in kind, kissing you back in short bursts, hands finding your waist, until you deepen it and nip at him to slide your tongue into his mouth.

matsukawa chuckles lightly against you, you can feel his lips widen into that lopsided grin, and he nips right back at you before you pull away to breathe, a dopey smile undoubtedly parting your lips.

"i like 'princess' better," you tease between heavy breaths, pressing even closer to him so he can kiss you again. the feel of him, the taste of him, the warmth of his body against yours, is better than you could've expected, and it's so dizzying, you feel like you're floating when he wraps his arms around you and kisses across your face, down your jaw and throat.

matsukawa pulls back barely an inch to look at you and marvel at how pretty you look, the happiest he's ever seen you when just moments before you'd looked like you were on the verge of tears. he grins crookedly, wholeheartedly pleased. he doesn't think he's ever been happier than in this moment, either. "so you like me too, huh?"

you shake your head, let him back you up against the wall again so he can press your hips together easier, one of your legs automatically wrapping around his waist to make more room for him. "issei, i love you." it comes out so naturally, yet so abrupt, like soda shaken up in a bottle.

he groans against your neck at the admission, shifts back up to your face so he can kiss you fully, passionately, greedily. he steals the breath from your lungs, and you can only moan into him, arch into his hold and beg for more, more, more.

you've had a taste, and you're entirely sure you'll never be able to get enough.

you rock against each other, fingers roaming, pulling and pressing, and you think you might be losing your mind in the best way. matsukawa touches you so gently yet so firmly, as if he doesn't want to hurt you but needs to remind you he's there, breathing you in and taking everything you have to give.

you sigh against the side of his jaw, a grin tugging at your lips when you feel his thick fingers drag up your thighs to knead at the flesh of your ass. "take me to bed," you murmur into his skin, and the way you're looking at him, up through your lashes, eyes hooded and swimming with lust as he grinds you down on his thigh, is enough to drive him wild.

matsukawa blinks, mirrors your grin. "fuck, of course, princess."

you're so pleased to hear him call you that again, you kiss it right out of his mouth.

his bedroom is approximately five steps away from the hallway where you are, but it takes you several minutes of stumbling and giggling quietly to navigate it successfully, too caught up in each other to move productively. you're in your own little world, each happily engulfed in a trance that the other has cast on you, only made more intense with each lingering, greedy touch, each kiss, pulling and pushing like magnets.

when you look up again you're on your knees at the edge of matsukawa's bed, helping him out of his hoodie. true to form, he's not wearing anything underneath it, and though you've seen him shirtless dozens of times, it gives you pause.

it's different this time, this close, finally able to touch him the way you would've liked to for so long. this close, with the intensity of his half-lidded gaze on you, following your every move, inspecting your every expression.

"don't be shy now, sweetheart," matsukawa murmurs, and on instinct you cut him a look, which immediately softens when he takes your hands and places them on his chest.

"pretty," you can't help but praise as your hands roam, over the rippling muscle of his chest, his abdomen, coming back up to pinch playfully at his nipples as you catch his lips again in a searing kiss.

"speak for yourself," he says as he backs you into the middle of his bed, trailing his barrage of kisses down your neck, nipping and licking as he goes, making you gasp and whine at the sensations. long fingers slide beneath the waistband of your pants to squeeze ruefully at your ass, the cool metal of his rings making you shiver. he pushes you against his hips, where you can undoubtedly feel his sizable bulge - you can't help but try to grind into the heat of it, and you can feel his lips widen against your skin in response.

you do your best to shimmy your pants down your legs despite him being between them, and he couldn't be happier to help you. he hardly detaches from you as he slips them off and throws them to the side, then pauses to ask your permission before tugging your panties off too, with your enthusiastic 'please'. he doesn't have to ask how far you want to go, sensing how meaningful it must be after so long of pining over each other, because you pull him back to your lips and whisper, "i want you, issei, please," and he swears something else entirely comes over him and drives him wild.

matsukawa no longer has the patience to take the rest of your clothes off, kissing quickly down your body over your shirt to slot himself between your legs. he presses his lips along the inside of your thighs, placing your legs across his shoulders. he groans when he sees how wet you are, when he slides an experimental finger through your folds and a string of your slick connects him to you even when he pulls away. you gasp and arch your back lightly at the contact, fingers clutching at the sheets beneath you.

"such a pretty pussy," he praises, eyes glazed over with lust and pure hunger as he continues to watch his fingers tease you, smacking his lips when he licks them clean and takes his rings off. "just like the rest of you, hm?"

"'sei, please don't tease," you mumble breathlessly, anticipation making your voice tight.

"ah, you've waited long enough, haven't you, princess?" his words alone make you shiver, but then he trails wet kisses closer to your core and you want to cry out. "well, i have, too, and i just want to savor it, you know?" he says it casually, as if he isn't dangling your pleasure over you between those pretty fingers, as if he isn't so close to where you need him that the heat of his breath across your skin as he talks is making you squirm in his hold.

just before you can whine and pull at him in impatience, he chuckles and finally ducks his head to taste you directly.

you gasp when his warm tongue slips through your folds, gathering up your slick for him to swallow up soundly with a satisfied hum that makes you shudder. he finds your clit almost instantly, circling it with the very tip of his tongue and making you buck your hips involuntarily before he's pulling back, just to smile smugly at you.

you don't think he's ever looked better than with his curls mussed by the grip your fingers have them in, his eyes hooded and all sorts of ravenous, his chin glistening with your slick.

matsukawa licks his lips, bites lightly at the flesh of your thigh. "you taste better than i could've imagined," he admits, voice gruff and sending tingles down your spine.

that makes you laugh breathily, only for it to fade into a delicious little moan when he dives back between your legs.

matsukawa eats you out with the same intensity, the same deep, intensive passion, as he had when he finally had the opportunity to kiss you fully, and you don't have to wonder if he'd been waiting to do this, too. his tongue slides into your entrance, coaxing out more of what you have to give him, so deep that his nose nudges your clit and makes you whine. he alternates between sucking wet kisses and messy licks all across every part of your needy pussy, intent only on tasting you and applying pressure, making more and more of a mess that he then happily licks up, and when he isn't satisfied with just that, he pushes his fingers into you, pleased when you can take both digits so quickly, one after another, and grazes his teeth gently along your sensitive bud in wordless praise.

you're gasping his name seemingly endlessly, as if it's the only word you know, your mind all but blank except for thoughts of him, pulling and tugging at the roots of his hair, making him groan into you, the vibrations of his deep voice only fueling your ecstasy. all too soon, you feel the bubble of pleasure in your gut near bursting. matsukawa seems to sense this, and curves his fingers as he thrusts and brushes right into your sweet spot, simultaneously lapping at your aching clit before wrapping his lips around the swollen bud and sucking, hard.

you fall over the edge so abruptly, your vision whites out. your body seizes up, back arched away from the bed, thighs squeezing around his head, a final cry of his name on your lips as pleasure overtakes you.

matsukawa doesn't stop pumping his fingers and licking at your clit. even as your body instinctively wriggles away from sensitivity, he follows you, his mouth riding the waves of your pleasure, the rhythmic grind of your hips, loves the way your walls pulse around his fingers, the way you spill into his palm. he laps up everything he can, only pulling away when you stop moving to watch with wonder as your pussy throbs around nothing in the aftershocks of your orgasm.

he chuckles when he sets your legs back down on the bed and gets a good look at you. "god, you're so fucking beautiful," he says, taking a moment just to stare at you, all wrecked and messy and gorgeous, panting in the middle of his bed with your shirt all askew and exposing your soft stomach, cheeks ruddy and eyes watery and face all fucked out, but a lopsided smile tipping at your lips. it only widens when your lidded gaze follows his hand, still wet from you, as it slips beneath the waistband of his pants, and undoubtedly fists at his cock.

"kiss me," you demand, barely a whisper, and it makes his cock throb in his hand.

matsukawa could never deny you. he surges forward and kisses you, moans into your mouth when your nimble fingers meet his beneath his pants and squeeze at his dick. you hum at the taste of yourself on his tongue, lick it off his lips as you thumb at his slit, share a lopsided grin that he then kisses off your face.

he lets you push him down on the bed then, raises his hips so you can ease his pants down his thighs and off and - he isn't wearing anything underneath that, either, and it doesn't surprise you, but makes you laugh.

when you look up at him again, you nearly salivate and come close to cardiac arrest all at once.

matsukawa's looks have never escaped your notice. as long as you've known each other, before you were even attracted to him, you'd known it as a fact that he was attractive. it was all too easy for him to develop his confidence, just cocky enough not to be completely arrogant but made even more attractive. tall, dark, handsome, and even worse - annoyingly witty - you often wondered how you'd not only harbored feelings for so long, but tolerated him enough to be friends for even longer.

you know him inside out, know him better than most.

but this, this is entirely new to you, though you most definitely see it as a positive now that your relationship has developed.

"issei," you swallow, "you're...big."

as if in response, his cock twitches where it rests against his abdomen, heavy and intimidating, though the swollen tip is leaking invitingly with precum.

matsukawa laughs, and you can't help but watch the way his abs contract with it, his skin glistening with how much he's dripped onto it. "you don't have to take it all, princess." something warm laces through his chest at the fact that you don't seem the least bit daunted, and instead look like you might start drooling. your gaze doesn't stray when he strokes himself once more, mesmerized.

you lick your lips without realizing it. "no," you correct, holding his gaze once more as you reach out to touch him fully, "i want you, issei, all of you."

he doesn't think he's ever heard anything more seductive in his life, more enticing. at that very moment, he thinks, is when he falls irreversibly, as if he wasn't in enough trouble to begin with.

your hand doesn't close around the base of his cock all the way, a fact that makes you shiver. matsukawa watches you closely, eyes glinting with unabashed lust, tongue darting out to lick his lips when you pucker yours, letting a dollop of spit land on the head of his cock. he curses under his breath, clearly barely holding himself together, and an addicting surge of power thrums through your veins.

you use your spit to aid the slide of your fist, up and down his shaft, pausing at the head to thumb at his slit, bending just to press a chaste, although wet, kiss to it before stroking your hand back down, squeezing at the base of him once more.

matsukawa tuts when you pull away. "princess, don't tease me if you don't want me to tease you, too."

you shrug coquettishly, your smile dripping with faux innocence. "it's only okay if i do it, baby."

his grin is nothing short of predatory. he all but pounces on you, grabbing you by the hips and shifting you back onto the bed so he can hover over you.

matsukawa disposes of your shirt so quickly you barely register it happening, and his mouth latches on to your chest instantly, big hands kneading at your breasts as his tongue swirls around your nipples, taking care to lave at them both and suck biting kisses into the swell of your chest. you whine in satisfaction, back arching instinctively to press more of your body into his needy touch, fingers raking through his soft curls only to encourage him.

one of his hands diverts and makes a path down to your stomach, until he's cupping your mons, grinning wickedly when he's reminded of how wet you still are.

matsukawa raises his head from your chest just enough to speak, his breath ghosting over your skin and raising goosebumps. "i'll take care of you, princess," he promises, voice strained. "i'll go slow, get you nice and ready for me."

you make to roll your eyes and tell him to get on with it, but then his fingers slide through your slit once more before slipping back in, with minimal resistance due to his previous work, and you have to bite back a moan instead.

it makes him chuckle, and he sits back on his haunches, gravity pushing you into his lap, thighs spread across his, opening you up to him completely. you can feel his dick brush against the inside of your thigh and can't help but shiver. his free hand glides along your skin appreciatively, squeezing at the supple flesh of your thigh, other fingers still massaging at your walls, scissoring in and out and stretching you wide for him.

matsukawa whistles quietly then, and you cut your eyes at him only to see him eyeing you hungrily and licking his lips. "shit," he murmurs low, dark, and fascinated. "you're gorgeous." he fixates on your pussy, how you suck his fingers in so sweetly, clenching around him as if you want, need something more. "look at you, so needy." and god, did he have exactly what you needed. "my fingers aren't enough for you, huh?" the tips of his fingers nudge into your sweet spot, making you gasp and instinctively grasp his wrist, and he only laughs lowly, doubling down and thumbing at your swollen clit, delighting when you squirm and whine at him.

"i'll give it to you, baby," he says, his voice so soft it almost sounds like he's thinking out loud rather than talking to you. his fingers part from you and he bends to kiss the center of your stomach in a strangely wholesome gesture, then pulls back to press your hips together, his shaft sliding enticingly through your slick, parting your folds. "i'll give you everything."

"o-oh, issei~ !" you keen at the new contact, walls clenching around nothing and what you want most nestled snugly between your legs, so close yet so far.

matsukawa presses himself against you, eyes practically sparkling with glee as he plays with you, as he watches your pretty pussy get even messier, coating his cock as he continues sliding it across you. the swollen head of it catches on your entrance, and he knows the whine you let out at that will be replaying in his head for weeks. he readjusts his grip on your thighs so he can direct your body better, firm though you're squirming so much he has to kiss you over and over in a futile attempt to soothe you (he doesn't think either of you care if it works, just too blissed out and caught up in each other and enjoying every second). when he moves his hips again, he makes sure to brush right against your clit with his cock, an easy feat with how thick he is, and groans into your mouth when your hand snakes between you to keep him there, your hips writhing beneath his, trapped between him and the mattress.

when you break away from his mouth to speak, dazed and pretty, a string of saliva connects you only for him to lick it up greedily. "i need you, issei, please," you nearly beg, thighs squeezing around his hips as if to punctuate yourself. it's music to his ears.

for as much as he seems to be falling apart at the seams, he still has the energy to tease you. "what do you need, princess?" he teases too at your fluttering hole, one large hand guiding his tip to nudge against it, just barely, only for him to shudder at how quickly and easily he can seem to sink into you.

still, he waits right there propped up on an elbow to look directly at you, chest to chest, your arms wrapped tightly across his back and legs spread wide against your bed.

you look like you're on the verge of cursing him out, but oh, he loves it, he loves you, loves that look you get when you're frustrated with him and now that he knows - frustrated but so in love it clouds your supposedly menacing gaze.

you raise one leg up to wrap loosely across his hip and pull him towards you, gasping when it shifts him just that tiny bit with the friction you so desperately need. "please, 'sei," you breathe, softer than anything, and who is he to deny you when you ask so nicely, with that stubborn yet lovestruck look in your pretty eyes?

"sorry to keep you waiting, princess." he says seriously, breathless and just as desperate, pressing his forehead to yours, noses touching together. he taps at your clit just to make you jolt, chuckling at your warning call of his name, before positioning the head of his cock at your entrance once more. "are you ready for me?"

you nod vigorously, managing to breathe out a frantic "yes, yes, god yes," just before his swollen tip sinks into you. your sharp gasp at the stretch makes him bury his face into your neck as he waits for you to grow accustomed to his girth, and he kisses and nips at your skin patiently.

you clutch him tight to you, muscles relaxing slowly with every touch of his lips on your skin, the soothing praise he whispers melting into you as your body molds to his.

"more," you plead after a moment, "more, issei- !"

matsukawa kisses his way up your jaw so he can watch your face again, brushing away hair that's stuck to your dampened forehead so he can see your eyes clearly. "i've got you, baby, you're taking me so well," he inches himself in with a hiss, your walls practically sucking him in, warm and wet and seemingly perfectly molded around his length. "anything you want, it's all yours." he shifts his hips away a bit just to push back in, and with one fluid stroke and a sharp moan escaping you, he's fully sheathed. he kisses across your open mouth, cradles your face with one hand and all the tenderness in the world cupped into his palm. "it's always been yours. i've always been yours."

his words aren't lost on you. staring intently into his eyes, your own start to well up with emotion, and he nudges his nose into yours with a quiet chuckle. you reach up to caress his cheek, heart swelling at the sincerity sparkling in his eyes, the warmth from him that seeps through your entire being and bubbling into pure, unadulterated happiness.

you tilt your head to capture his lips, indulge in his kisses until you're breathless.

when you part for air, it's you who laughs quietly, fingers stroking absently through the soft black curls of his hair. "we could've done this so much sooner," you lament, grinning when he graces you with another swift kiss before pulling back further.

matsukawa smiles, large palms gliding along your thighs and pressing into the plush playfully until he reaches the back of one of your knees and pushes it up against your chest. "trust me, princess," he says with a cocky gleam in his eye that makes you tingle, hips winding back simultaneously as he raises up minutely, "we've got all the time in the world to make up for it."

you're aware of how active he'd been before this, how your mutual friends seemed to speak about him as if he were some kind of sex god, though he'd never disclose any details - but you don't think anything could've prepared you for the depth of his prowess.

matsukawa starts slow and deep, hips rocking rhythmically and drawing back, the pressure and thickness of his cock seeming to reach every sensitive spot inside you. his eyes are glazed over with desire and the overwhelming pleasure you're giving him, but he's somehow still keen on your own pleasure, attuned to your every reaction, every satisfied little sound you make, every clench of your tight little cunt. he observes what you like, what seems to drive you most crazy, gasping and whining and writhing against him, and all but abuses them - nudging up against your sweet spot with the swollen head of his cock, grinding his pelvis intently into your puffy clit, licking at your throat, nipping at your chest.

you reward him with the most beautiful sounds, the sweetest pulls at the roots of his hair that make him fuck into you even harder, his hips moving on their own to drill you down into the mattress, pressed chest to chest with one arm hooked around the back of your knee to keep you opened up for him.

"oh my god, issei," you finally manage when he lets you breathe, panting against his cheek as he peppers kisses across your face all the while.

"feel good, princess?" his voice, smooth yet just the right kind of raspy, breathes right against your ear and makes you shudder pleasantly, arching further into him as his hips press back down. he pulls back a bit to admire you, how beautiful you look all dazed and fucked out, brows furrowed and mouth agape with how good he's making you feel, how you seem to instinctively reach back out for him every time he shifts away even the tiniest bit. at his prompting you nod furiously, seemingly lost for words.

he can't really blame you, because he chooses that moment to rub at your poor, sensitive clit with the rough pads of his fingers, relishing at how your back arches off the bed and you practically claw at his arms.

matsukawa's grin is sinister, teeth bared as he pauses, pulls his hips back a bit to sit back on his haunches and readjust you as if you weigh nothing, hands squeezing appreciatively at your flesh before he positions both your legs over his shoulders once more. "god, i'm gonna fucking ruin you," he bites out, placing a sweetly contradictory kiss to one of your thighs, "gonna mold this pretty pussy to the shape of my cock." he slides his fingers through your folds for emphasis, brushes up against where you're connected and groans at how wet you are, how his digits come away dripping so nicely. "like no one else can, princess." he doesn't miss the way your cunt clenches deliciously around him at his words.

he loves that you can still smirk stubbornly right back at him even in your position folded underneath him. "i'm gonna ruin you for anyone else, too, dummy," you say slyly, reaching up to pull him down to you by the nape of his neck, sighing dreamily when he indulges you with another breathtaking kiss.

he can't help but chuckle, knowing that it's more than true - you wrecked him long before he was even inside you and tasted heaven on your tongue and encased in the sweet velvet of your walls. and he's more than impressed with how eager you are for his mouth despite the awkward angle pushing your legs to your chest in a way he's sure can't be comfortable.

when his dick slides all the way back in to the hilt at this angle, you both gasp at how much deeper it seems, the head of his cock nudging right up against your cervix.

"ohh, fuck, pretty girl, i could die right now you're so fucking perfect," he breathes, like the air has been punched from his lungs, because you're swallowing him right up so perfectly, so snugly, and the base of his cock is rubbing right up against your clit and making you mewl nearly every time he thrusts in. his fingers weave between yours and pin them to the mattress, similarly to how his hips shove yours down into it, steady and unbelievably precise, and the room fills with the obnoxious noises of wet skin slapping against wet skin and the obscene squelch of your cunt sucking him in.

you giggle breathlessly, let go of one of his hands to clutch at the roots of his hair, tilting his head up from where his gaze had been locked on the mess between your bodies so he can look at you instead. "don't die before you make me cum again, issei."

matsukawa swears his heart palpitates at the cocky little smile on your face. you really are perfect - you look like a gorgeously lewd, perfect little angel, dazed and splayed out so delicately in his bed, tits bouncing with every purposeful thrust of his hips, your heavensent, divine pussy sucking him in so perfect, perfect, perfect. that word was made for you, he's so sure of it.

"of course not, angel," he simpers, licking his lips as his gaze rakes over your body. "how many can you take, hm?" one hand still laced with yours, he parts your lips around his dick with his free hand, grinning ruefully when you can only whine instead of answering his question.

he hadn't expected you to, anyway.

matsukawa continues to tease your body and relish in your sweet reactions, never breaking the brutal yet constant pace of his hips thrusting into you. he presses a heavy palm down on your lower stomach and groans from deep in his chest when you clench so nicely for him, whining at the new sensation. "you can feel me there, huh?" he hovers over you, your legs still hooked haphazardly across his shoulders, and kisses at your chest in approval. he marvels at how deep he truly is, carving his cock into you and building up your pleasure and his with every purposeful rock of his hips. he feels goosebumps rise on his skin at the primal, fleeting thought of fucking you full, fucking a baby into you, making you beg for it, needy and desperate. "i fucking love you, baby, taking me so fucking well." he isn't sure he's making much sense, but something comes over him with the sheer bliss he's feeling, and he can't stop talking - and you seem to absolutely love it, keening at every meaningless babble as if his voice is laced with the most addictive substance.

eventually he moves his hand down from your stomach to toy with your poor, puffy clit, smearing your combined juices all along the little bundle of nerves and rubbing vigorously. "cum all over my cock, princess, give it all to me," he all but growls, hips still moving as if on autopilot as he focuses all his attention on your pretty face, intent to watch you come undone.

your jaw locks and a silent scream escapes you as you tip over the edge once more, overwhelmed with pleasure as your orgasm crashes through your body, head to toe. when you have enough air to gasp into your hungry lungs, you can only breathe out a chorus of his name, clutching at his hair and the sheets beneath you, writhing against the mattress with every wave of pure bliss that rolls through you.

matsukawa fucks you through it, dutifully, eagerly. he nearly melts at the happily dreamy look on your face, the charming pinch of your brows and your mouth hanging agape just to chant his name and spur him on - and not to mention, the devastating flutter of your cunt around him, the pulse of your walls pushing out your wetness to coat his cock, the sweet glisten of the skin between your thighs and his shaft.

he's never been more in love. he can't help but think about how lucky he is to be the one making you lose yourself in the best way.

matsukawa stills his hips and kisses you down from your high, your tongues tangling and making a mess of your spit, but neither of you care, too lost in each other.

"keep going," you pant into his mouth, fingers raking through his hair and making him moan in satisfaction as the last few contractions of your orgasm wrack through him in turn. "wanna feel your cum inside me, issei."

matsukawa groans, low and guttural. you say and do the hottest things with such ease it should be illegal. "fuck," he grunts, "i did tell you i'd give you everything, didn't i?" he slips your legs down his shoulders carefully, but presses one to your chest with a large hand on the back of your knee. he repositions himself over you, makes sure you're secure and comfortable before he starts to move again.

this time, his pace is much faster, hyperfocused only on reaching his own peak.

your moans seem to get higher pitched the longer he pistons into the tight wet heat of your cunt, your legs shifting to close around him on instinct - he prevents you with that firm hold on the back of your knee, keeping you splayed open and vulnerable as he happily splits you apart on his cock.

matsukawa bites his lip in concentration, but low, satisfied sounds still escape him, too lost in the sweet vice of your pussy clamped around him to keep quiet.

when you reach up to tug at his hair again, with just the right amount of pressure, he thinks he loses his mind completely.

he only lasts a few valiant, sloppy thrusts, and then he's burying himself into you as deep as he can, his tall frame curling into you instinctively to get as close as possible, your name escaping from deep within his throat, low and lovely. with every sweet pulse of his thick cock he spills inside you, coating your fluttering walls in his seed until it leaks out between you, and you're gasping and shaking lightly at how positively full you feel, warm and more than content to be trapped in his embrace. his hips slow to a sensual grind that makes his pelvis nudge right into your clit, and before you know it, you're teetering excruciatingly slow towards another orgasm, shocked at how eager for it your tired body seems to be, squeezing around his cock - still hard despite how much he seemed to cum - and instinctively pressing closer to him.

matsukawa buries his face into the crook of your neck as he comes down, breathing heavy, arms wrapped tight around your waist. after a moment he turns you both on your side because he has half a mind not to crush you, and you giggle breathlessly, fingers soothing at his scalp. "fuuuuuck," he groans against your heated skin, drawn out on a long breath. "you're insane." he chuckles to himself, all too pleased.

you scoff, shifting so you can face him. you're so close you can see how much his pupils have dilated, the black nearly swallowing the entirety of his irises, and you wonder vaguely if yours are the same, if the emotion bursting from your slightly heaving chest is any indication. "says the one who's still hard." you clench around him for emphasis and he grunts as his cock twitches inside you, a large hand smacking lightly at your ass in admonishment.

"don't start something you can't finish, princess." that crooked grin is back, that addictingly smooth lilt of his voice.

instantly you're more energized, spurred on by his challenging tone, absolutely insatiable, and you mirror his smirk. "who says i can't finish?" you pull away from him, whining a little at the loss of his heat and the dull pressure of his cock plugging your releases. it leaks slowly out of you and along your still-wet inner thighs, but in another instant matsukawa's thick fingers are there, smearing it into your folds and making more of a mess of you.

you push his probing hand away so you can roll on top of him, and his grin widens when he figures out what you're doing and lays back comfortably with an arm tucked behind his head, those half-lidded eyes watchful, anticipating.

you don't miss the delicious flex of his bicep, the way that position emphasizes his arms and broad chest.

you lean in just to kiss him as you straddle his hips, his free hand squeezing at your thigh and gliding up your body to rest at the curve of your waist, his thumb soothing at your skin. you line him up to your entrance once more, and with your pleased little gasp, he slides in with hardly any resistance to speak of.

"that's it, beautiful," matsukawa rumbles, and with your hands braced on his chest you can feel his deep voice vibrate through you, and it makes you shiver. "you're so pretty like this." he says it softly, reverently, and your back arches a little bit more as if on instinct, preening with his praise.

you grin, sinking down all the way and humming in satisfaction along with him. you circle your hips, leaning down to kiss him, one hand on his chest and the other on the side of his face, caressing his cheek as he lets your tongue delve into his mouth, content to let you take the lead.

if he were honest, he'd let you do anything you wanted to him.

and he can't wait to explore that with you.

you lick up the line of spit that connects you when you pull back, raising your hips simultaneously and gasping against his cheek when you shift back down. his cock throbs deep inside you, every ridge and vein massaging at your walls so nicely every time you move, slow and purposeful.

"fuck, 'sei," you whine as you ride him with abandon, chasing the friction, the pure, liquid pleasure he's giving you, all but bouncing in his lap - to his clear delight. his eyes shine with mirth, darting across your every feature and leaving none without his attention. matsukawa groans in response, no longer lax and content to just admire you as you work yourself over him, sitting up to toy with your body, his hands now occupied with your breasts. he squeezes them together, pinching and licking at your nipples just to make you whimper and clutch at his wrists, back arching to push more of your flesh into his eager mouth.

matsukawa kisses his way up from your chest, where he's left his own pretty roses scattered across your skin, and starts sucking on your throat. you gasp when you feel his teeth glide across your pulse, shuddering and tugging on the hair at the back of his head. he chuckles against your jaw, big hands digging into the supple flesh of your ass to aid your movements.

"issei, i'm-" he interrupts you with a lick to your bottom lip, laughing softly at how quickly you respond, head tilting to follow his mouth when he pulls away.

"what is it, baby?" he asks, though he knows, can feel it in the way you clench around his dick, the tension pulling your muscles taut and making your pace stutter.

"'m close," you manage between kisses when he realizes he can't stay away from your mouth, either, and gives you what you want. "gonna cum, make me cum, issei please, i need to- oh-!"

matsukawa interrupts you again, this time by planting his feet on the mattress and thrusting up into you. he grips your thighs and slams you down onto his cock simultaneously, and your hair flies when you throw your head back with a deeply satisfied, high pitched moan. his grin is feral - he's addicted to the way you fall apart just for him, losing yourself again on his cock, tits bouncing with each brutal thrust he rewards you with for your pretty, shaky moans.

your fingers paw sloppily at your clit as you tumble over the edge once more, and he does his best to prolong your orgasm, but he only lasts a few messy thrusts himself before giving in and pumping you full again, unable to resist the tantalizing flutter of your walls around him.

matsukawa shoves his pulsing dick inside you as deep as he can and stills, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you tight to him, unconcerned that you're both sweaty and trembling and have a mess slowly spreading between you, both of you coming apart in your bliss yet coming together in the middle, tethering each other in your embrace. you hold him just as firmly, fingers dug into his soft curls, chest pressed to his and swooning all over again when you feel his heartbeat against your own, rattling around erratically in your ribcage as you come down from your devastating high, struggling to catch your breath.

soon enough, laughter bubbles up in his chest, shaking you both lightly. you giggle along with him, pinching playfully at his arm when he kisses your cheek and tells you, low and breathless, "i swear you're trying to kill me, princess."

"we should probably clean up," you suggest, laying your head on his shoulder and admittedly making no other move to do so.

"yeah, just..." matsukawa just stares at you for a long moment, a tender little half-smile adorning his lips, so small yet so bright - it lights up his whole face, makes his eyes sparkle and his skin glow, and you don't think he's ever looked more handsome. your heart does somersaults. "give me a second." his hand comes up to your face, thumb stroking your cheek, tracing the seam of your lips and making you smile against the pad of it. almost as if on instinct you kiss at his thumb, and his grin widens, because he thinks he sees everything he's ever wanted in your eyes.

you sigh dramatically when you feel more of your combined juices leak out of you and you suddenly feel unbearably sticky. "come on, issei, you can make googly eyes at me in the bath," you gripe, and peck at his lips before disentangling your sore limbs from his and moving to sit up.

matsukawa just laughs and does his best to help you out, because he can't argue.

but just because you ruined that tender moment prematurely, he thinks he'll do more than that in the bath.

[dira333]

Of Swings and Snakes - Matsukawa x Reader - part 2

part 1 for anyone who missed it. I apologize for taking so long. Life hit me like a train right after writing the first part. I hope you enjoy the second part, where they get their shit together.

tagging: @lees-chaotic-brain, @togament (the angsty Mattsun anon), @constantlybeingbiaswrecked @multi-fandom-fanfic @integers @sy1v30n @iatethemochi

“Are you sure about that?” Makki asks, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, “Really sure?”

“Really, really sure,” you tell him, grabbing your purse a little tighter. “This will do me good. Get to know myself in a new city, you know? And I’m sure you’ve got other things to do than keeping me company. I’ve got to go now, though, I will call you when the plane lands.”

“No,” Makki’s hands are on your shoulders, keeping you in place, “Five more minutes, okay?”

“Makki?” You level him with a glare. “What’s going on?”

But there’s another voice behind him, one you wish you could have forgotten but still hear every night in your dreams. 

“Sorry,” Mattsun’s panting, sweat running down his temple, “Traffic jam.”

-

Two weeks before

“What’s for Dinner?” Makki asks, sniffing at the door. “I made Okonomiyaki,” you announce proudly, placing the dish on the table, “I hope you’re hungry.”

It’s gotten easier these days, pretending that you’re happy.

Sometimes you even find yourself laughing, smiling, forgetting about the cloud of sadness that hides in your chest, keeping you from breathing at the worst times.

You’ve yet to meet Mattsun again, and since you are part of the same friend group two weeks without him feels like a year in the real world.

But, a cold voice whispers, it’s not like you saw him a lot before your breakup anyway.

-

“I can’t believe you,” you pull away from Makki, dread heavy in your stomach. “You told him?”

“Hey,” Mattsun’s voice cuts through you like a hot knife. “Can we talk?”

“I’ve got a plane to catch,” you hiss, heart bleeding as his face falls. Somehow, even now, you’re still attached in places you didn’t know. Like two pieces of fabric, sown together so tight you can’t pull on one without hurting the other.

“You’ve got five minutes,” you tell him, throat tight. You send Makki the harshest glare you can manage. “And you can leave.”

“Sorry,” he has the decency to look ashamed as he slinks away.

You grab your purse a little tighter, the familiar feel of it soothing your nerves a little.

“Can we walk?” You ask, voice quivering, “I don’t want to miss my plane.”

“Yeah, sure, okay.” Issei rubs the back of his head as he walks, one hand dangerously close to brushing yours.

“I wanted… I wanted to explain.”

“Now?”

“Yeah,” he swallows thickly. “I think I messed everything up.”

You stop walking, make the mistake of looking into his eyes.

The noise and bustle of the airport fades away as you remember a different time.

-

1 year before

“Promise not to tell?” Issei asks over the low hum of the Fan. It’s much too hot to be cuddling like this, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

“No one’s going to judge you-” You start, your voice soft, but there’s an urgency in his eyes, a desperate vulnerability you’ve never seen before, just felt in your own bones.

“I promise,” you tell him, pinkies linked over your hearts.

You can feel, little by little, how his shoulders drop, the weight of the world sliding off.

His temple presses against yours, the skin flushed and warm to the touch.

But you don’t comment on it, and neither do you mention the salty tears that drop from his eyes onto your cheeks.

Because Issei might be taller than you and stronger than you and smarter than you - sometimes - but he has yet to learn to allow himself to be.

-

“Hey,” you grab his hand, too familiar with the sight of him when he tries not to cry. 

He used to joke about it, the lone benefit of losing a game, because no one would judge you for crying then when everyone would judge you for it the rest of the time.

“Issei, it’s okay.” The words come out of their own.

When he pulls you in you can feel the tears soaking into your hair, the quiver of his shoulders as you curl your arms around him.

Maybe it’s because you cared for him for too long, the comfort you give Muscle Memory. But you don’t think it is. Because your heart beats two beats instead of one like it usually did around him. 

“Talk to me?” You ask and he nods, his chin scraping the top of your head.

“I love you.”

“I know,” you sigh.

“No,” he shakes his head. You can feel it more than you see it. “You don’t know. Because I didn’t tell you as often as I should have. Because I thought… I was doing odd jobs in the evening, trying to get through the courses faster as a… as a surprise… Because I wanted us to get a good start. To do it right from the beginning.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You ask, pulling back to look at him. His eyes are red and the way he wipes his nose on his sleeve is less than appealing, but he’s chuckling dryly through the pain.

“I thought… I thought I was supposed to do this on my own.”

“What-”

He shakes his head, stops you with a raised hand.

“I did a cooking class in the evenings… I wasn’t cheating.”

You gape at him.

“Why?”

“Because,” he pulls his shoulders up, “You were always cooking. I wanted to help out.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me? At least when I was breaking up with you?”

You sound almost hysteric now. Issei flinches at the sound of your voice.

“I was trying-”

“No,” you shake your head. “You weren’t. You just left.”

“Because you wanted-”

“Issei,” you swallow harshly and grab his hands. “Issei, listen to me. We’re no longer kids.”

He blinks. “I know.”

“If we can’t talk about things we can’t stay together.”

“But-”

“No,” you shake your head. “You know that. It’s the little things, not the big things. You can’t just show up and ask me to stay only to make the same mistakes a few months in.”

“But I love you.”

“And I love you.” You swallow the tears that now threaten to fall from your face too. “But I think we need to grow up first.”

“How?”

Overhead your flight is called.

“I don’t know,” you admit for the first time. You have no idea what you’re doing. “But I think leaving might be a start. I’ll… I’ll text when I get there, okay?”

Your hand slips out of his only for him to grab it again, pulling you back.

You want to say something but he silences you with a kiss.

“I’ll fight for this,” he promises, a fire in his eyes that you have missed.

“Good,” you agree a little breathless, “me too.”

But you still leave.

-

3 weeks later

“Oh, Boyfriend’s calling,” your coworker jokes as you sprint back to your desk at the sound of your ringtone.

“It’s not like that,” you try to explain what is, in fact, not that easy to explain.

“Hey,” you’re out of breathe as you pick up, checking the clock on the wall. You’ve got about fifteen minutes before your next shift starts.

“Hey,” Issei’s voice is warm, yet cautious. “Bad timing?”

“It’s okay,” you huff, getting comfortable. “We’ve got fifteen minutes. How’s everybody doing?”

-

Whoever said that relocating to a new country is easy has either lied or did drugs half of the time.

Because it’s neither easy nor enjoyable at first.

Or maybe that’s just the way it is when you relocate with a severely broken heart.

Your new apartment is even smaller than the one you lived in before even though you share it with a roommate - Sang Hee is a lot cleaner than Issei, but she plays the drums every night. You’ve yet to find your comfort foods in the stores near your apartment and making Onigiri yourself just doesn’t hit the same way.

And it’s lonely, living like this.

Sure, there’s Sang Hee and Ae-cha from your business Class and Dae-hyun from work, but they don’t know you the way Issei, Makki, or even Kyoutani knew you. 

All those inside jokes and memes are lost on them and it’s hard to build it all up anew.

-

“You do have a tendency to shut others out,” Ae-chan diagnoses you over coffee like she’s just guessed your favorite anime. “Have you ever thought about therapy?”

“I don’t- I- I guess, I-” You stammer as she blows on her tea to cool it down.

“I do have someone I can recommend,” she smiles. “And I apologize if I’m being too forward, but my mom and my dad are both therapists. I think it runs in the family.”

“Ouch.”

She laughs. “I get that a lot. Now, tell me about your boyfriend again.”

“He’s not my-”

“Tell me about your friend, who is a boy and used to live with you.”

You sigh. “Well, his name is Issei and he never put his dirty socks where they belong…”

-

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Issei asks.

“I-” You hesitate for a second, wringing your hands. “It feels weird to see you here. Like you don’t belong to this city yet. As if I cut you out of my dreams and placed you in front of a greenscreen.”

He doesn’t laugh. His arms hang limp and you move to grab one arm, feel the familiar sensation of his rough, warm skin on yours. 

Ever since you’ve left, you’ve been in constant contact.

Sometimes it’s just a text, letting the other know how you’d rate your day. Sometimes he calls, the conversation going for hours on end.

It’s easier, in a way, to admit things when you can’t see his face. 

It feels like noone can judge, in the Silence of your room.

“Makki says hello,” he mumbles now, his fingers closing around yours.

You leave that uncommented. 

You and Makki still talk, but you feel like he’s not quite understanding what you’re going through. Why you have to stay away for so long.

Issei doesn’t ask you to come back when he leaves. But he leans down to kiss you, steady posture even as you lean in as well, meeting him in the middle.

-

“One day, we’ll tell our children,” you tell him at night, his voice crackling through the receiver.

“That we were stupid?”

“Stupid as hell,” you agree. “Followed all the wrong advice.”

He hums low in his throat and you can see him, huddled up in bed, sleep dragging him down.

“Will you marry me?” He asks, the question as soft as the one before.

“Yeah,” you agree just as softly, “I will.”

Because this isn’t a proposal. This is what communication has come to between you. 

You can talk about the future with a different certainty now. 

It will happen. You just don’t know yet when.

-

Finally

“Welcome back,” Issei’s arms are open and you snuggle right in, giggling when his hug lifts you off the ground.

Behind you, our belongings wait to be carried to his apartment. Your apartment.

And even though you’ve been there before, it feels different now.

Because you’re not leaving again.

This time, you’re here to stay.

Oh and Makki? Rumour has it he’s renting the apartment on the other side of the hallway. 

-

“Hey,” Issei meets you in the kitchen around midnight. “Can’t sleep?”

“I needed to pee and when I got up I had this craving for chocolate.” You hold the spoon to his lips so that he can lick it. “I was going to bring it to you.”

Instead of answering, he pulls you close.

It has been a hard time, for the both of you.

Figuring out who you are, who the other is and, most importantly, how to find a way out of your arguments. 

“Did you find the box?” Issei whispers into your ear.

“Oh, you mean the box you hid behind the chocolate sprinkles.”

You can feel his lips stretch into a smile.

“So, what’s your answer?”

“Dunno, what’s the question?”

He snorts before letting go.

You already know what you’re going to see when you turn, but you do it anyway.

Issei, on one knee, wearing his ridiculous Pokemon Pajamas he got from Makki once… holding a velvety ring box in his left hand.

“Will you marry me?”

“Always.”

[aftersamu]

LABYRINTH PAIRING: suna rintarou x gn!reader ( + issei matsukawa) GENRE: angst PART ONE: WE DIDN'T EVEN DATE

it's been three months since you last saw suna, your best friend. you two haven't spoken, texted, and for the slim chance you catch him in public – you turn the other way.

you never got back to him on his offer, the one and only time he tried to reach out. you couldn't face him, or your feelings.

but as bad as it sounds, things have been okay.

it's a new chapter, one without suna, and surprisingly, one that you're happy to be living. sometimes the grey aura that dims the world and vision of your eyes appears at the memory and photo's of him. though, over the last few weeks, the grey disappears.

because of him.

he who swooped in like prince charming. the boy who let you cry in his arms and never expected anything in return. the boy who waited days, months, years for you.

the boy who slowly bandaged up your heart, held your hand, and listened to you as a friend. the boy that teased you, made you cry of laughter, and blew away that grey cloud.

you're happy.

happy with a boy that throws flour in your face, burns your eggs, and infuriates you. happy with a boy that lets you steal the covers, always pays for you, always makes you smile and feel seen.

things are good. he's good.

"hey."

the voice stops you in your tracks, your hand freezing in front of the packet of chips. you slowly shift your gaze, meeting those familiar green eyes that you haven't seen in three months.

"hi," you choke out.

"where have you been?" suna asks, "haven't heard from you in a while."

"uh, yeah, i've been busy lately."

"i've missed having you around," he says, "no one to beat at mario cart." he jokes, trying to reduce the tension.

"oh." you nod, glancing around the aisle hoping that he will magically appear around the corner and save you from this metaphorical hell. it sucks. the feeling of being here with him as a wave of nostalgia crashes over you, pushing you to run back to him.

"how come you, uh, never called?"

"i didn't think i needed to," you say. "and i needed some space, sometimes to think."

"so... what did you think about?" he asks, standing in front of you with his hands shoved into the pocket of his hoodie. "please be honest with me."

"i thought about how i'm going to spend my whole life loving you, even if you'll never love me back." you say, fighting back the lump in your throat, "and i thought about how i'd curse you for the longest time, and haunt my mind about everything that we could've been."

it's embarrassing and dramatic, to dump all of this on him now. but there's a voice in your mind saying that this is the last time you're ever going to see him.

"i thought that maybe i could call you and change everything, that we could go back to normal."

"do you still think that?" he mumbles.

"no. not really," you sigh. "i managed to get over it."

"there you are!" matsukawa smiles, strolling over with a basket in hand filled with junk food for your movie night. "okay, so get this i found sour patch kids! last one!"

if he had noticed suna standing there, he pretended he didn't. but the second you saw him, suna noticed that glimmer in your eyes, the growing grin on lips, and the way you relaxed around him.

you're falling in love.

in love with someone that's not him.

and you got over suna fast.

it says a lot about how right a person is treating you, doesn't it?

[tsumusangxl]

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Summary ʚ Hinata and you have been friends since childhood, you guys went through thick and thin. You helped Hinata to achieve his dreams and supported him without a doubt.... But everything changed after he graduated and moved to Brazil, leading to the fall out of your friendship and to a heartbreak.

Iwaizumi and you met through Social Media, having one mutual friend,the one and only Oikawa Toruu. You never saw each other in person, since he studied in the States and you were still living in Japan, but you both grew close quickly. And maybe some different emotions came to the surface. Will you be able to move on? Or will you forgive Hinata? 

Pairing ʚ Hinata Shoyou x F!reader x Iwaizumi Hajime

Genre ʚ SMAU, Fluff, childhood friend!reader, Angst, childhood friends to lovers (hinata), love triangle, reader involved (voting,etc.), kinda second chance, slight age gap, comfort, strangers to friends to lovers (iwa), flashbacks,

Warnings ʚ Swearing, disregarding feelings, more specific content warning will be given at the start of each chapter

Status ʚ ongoing

Updates ʚ irregular

Love meter ʚ

Hinata ʚ 4%

Iwaizumi ʚ 0%

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Masterlist ʚ

[5 Idiots and a brain] / [MBSY hotshots] / [Oikawa hateclub]

Chapter ʚ

zero - the struggle

one - the decision

two - the explanation

three - the regret

four - the surprise

five - the denial

six - the broken toy

seven -

eight -

nine -

ten -

eleven -

twelfth -

...

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ・┈ ─ ・┈꒱꒱

taglist ʚ @jojo23allegra @mjustag1rl @dazqa @gigiiiiislife

[etherrreal]

“spare me the details”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, so you think I’m charming?”

“I’m walking away now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, how’d you meet this guy again?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In my defense, I was being chased–”

“By what, her six pound toy poodle?”

“Whatever. That’s not my point.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey.”

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

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

“Don’t go.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know why.”

“No, actually, I don’t–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know what I said!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So he does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Issei, I–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Written by: Dawn

[hanmaitani]

You Won't Remember This

PAIRING - Bodyguard!Matsukawa x Reckless!Reader WC - 4.7K GENRE - Angst, Suggestive CW - language. tracking app used. drinking, partying. grinding, unwanted groping. kinda implied size kink? almost dry humping?

PREV PART | MASTERLIST | NEXT PART

You hate him. Matsukawa that is. It wasn't that he was a terrible person or anything like that. He's not. He's perfect. The perfect fucking bodyguard. And you hate that.

In just two weeks of being your bodyguard, you've already tried to put him through the ringer. In just two weeks he'd already taken more of your shit than any previous bodyguard of yours had ever been able to handle.

You had disappeared on him, flirted with him, intentionally put yourself in harm's way. He'd dealt with you all but throwing yourself at him, trying to get him to break, to quit, something. You were trying to test his limits, you wanted a reaction.

The man didn't even crack. He took everything you gave him in stride, an eye roll and a grumble was all you got in response.

You hated him and hated how incredibly respectable he was too. He ignored all your taunting. He protected you in the most miniscule ways, mundane things that he did without a second thought.

He followed the damn sidewalk rule for god's sake. You would be trying to balance along the curb, teetering on the edge of danger and suddenly his hand was there, encompassing your hip and drawing you to walk on the inside of the sidewalk while he took the position closer to the street.

And his hands. His goddamn hands. You seemed to bump into them more often than the edges and corners of things that you usually ran into. He protected you from any possible marks or bruises he could.

The worst part was... it was like he did it all without even thinking. like protecting you was an instinct. You would look over to him every time he did something to protect you and he wouldn't even be paying you any mind. He'd be completely engaged in something else.

It frustrated you to no end.

Usually you would save the tactic of completely ditching your bodyguard for later, to be used as your last resort. You had defaulted to using it on day four with Matsukawa.

You'd slipped away in the middle of an event. Disappearing with the intent of meeting up with your friends at a nearby bar. You thought you'd been successful, that you had skillfully slipped his protection detail. And then you saw him, walking into your bar not even an hour after you'd disappeared from him.

He'd dragged you out by your arm as you protested. He'd downloaded a stupid tracker app to your phone. You'd rambled and ranted at him for an hour about how entirely unnecessary and violating that was... only to disappear from his watch again the very next day.

He'd found you then too. You had deleted the app but had forgotten to stop posting your outing on your social media. Or on your friend's social media. He made it his job to know all the spots you and your friends visited. Even without geotagged photos, he could figure it out from a few photos.

It was like he had been studying you like he'd have an exam or something. And he was quickly becoming an expert.

It took you nearly two weeks to finally lose him for more than two hours. And you fully intended to take advantage of that.

You had disappeared last night. Never made it home - never intended to really. Instead, you found yourself out on a long overdue binge with your friends. You hadn't been sober all day and had once again found yourself at a new bar with your friends after the sun had set.

It was crowded in the bar and you'd found your way to the dance floor long ago, pressed between your friends. You were laughing when the figure at the bar's entrance caught your eye.

You groaned as you saw Matsukawa dip through the open door, eyes scanning the crowd until they found his target. He locked his eyes on you, glaring as he watched you squeeze your way away from your friends and towards the bar.

He tried to make his way through the cramped bar quickly. People made way for him but not fast enough. You were leaning on the bar, downing your newest drink, when he finally reached you.

"Heyyy Matsukawa." You barely kept the giggle out of your words but you couldn't help the smirk on your lips as you took in his demeanor.

He was annoyed. His jaw was set stern as he looked down at you. Anger radiated off his muscled form. Really nice muscles. Your drunk brain let your eyes wander down the expanse of flesh on his crossed arms, exposed by his tight short-sleeved shirt.

"Where were you last night?" His voice drew your attention again and it sent a quick shock through your chest. He sounded like he was actually worried, like he cared about you and not just the job.

You faltered for a second before shaking it off with a laugh. You waved down the bartender for another drink, turning away from Matsukawa to lean on the bar - sure to press your elbows together for the bartender - as you replied. "Been out, busy, having fun." You sent him a sideways glance to watch his irritation grow, the response of your own system was giddy.

"Hey!" He snapped and snatched the drink from the bartender before it even got to you. You rolled your eyes and turned back to face him, annoyance taking over your expression. "Y/n, you know you're not supposed to leave without me or a replacement."

You scoffed and let your smirk grow in amusement. Oh righteous bodyguard. You nimbly snatched your drink back from him and stuck the straw in your mouth, speaking around it. "See, but you're no fun. Have a little fun, Mattsun."

You made an exaggerated pout around your straw as you sucked down some of the drink. Mattsun's eyes lingered a second too long on the action but you were too drunk to even register the flicker of his eyes. You were too busy turning over your own words in your head.

You stepped away from the counter, quickly having to rebalance yourself. The bar top had made it easier to pretend like you were more sober than you truly were, but your vision was spinning and so was the room. "I have an idea." You giggled as you tossed the straw, choosing to tip your glass to your lips instead.

His answer was immediate, before you even got to share your idea. "No."

You pouted again but stepped towards him this time instead of away. You missed the way his muscles tensed as you wrapped your hand around one of his crossed arms, fingers unable to wrap completely around his wrist. You stepped back, trying to tug him with you by his wrist.

"You haven't even heard my idea yet, Mattsun." Your voice was whiny, thick with alcohol. You finished your drink quickly, dropping it on the counter as you stepped backwards towards the crowd.

His arm stretched across the space between the two of you, his body refusing to move with yours. "That look in your eyes, it means nothing good."

You wiped the pout off your face and brought your smirk back. "Just want you to come and dance with me Mattsun." The nickname kept rolling off your lips, something you'd only ever heard your brother and your driver call him. You missed how he had to force his eyes away from watching the way your lips formed the word.

He sighed, rolling his eyes at your incessant tugging, the slurred please leaving your glossy lips between giggles. "You can stay." It was your first sign of weakness from him. The first crack in his exterior. He gave in, just a little. "I'm not dancing with you."

You took it with a laugh, dropping his arm and leaving before he changed his mind. You migrated back to your friends easily, squeezing in between bodies to get there, only to press yourself directly against one of them as soon as you got there.

It was normal for you, to dance against your friends in a bar like this. Grinding against their bodies as the alcohol flooded your veins like blood. You might have been overdoing it this time, however, but the thought never truly crossed your mind.

Your eyes kept flicking over to Matsukawa as your pressed your body into your friends. He had migrated away from the bar and towards a wall, leaning against it, arms crossed again and jaw set in stone.

You noticed, every time you looked over to him, he never took his eyes off of you. He couldn't even if he wanted to. Your skirt was short, the sides cut out and replaced with buckles. It barely covered anything and rode up every time you moved. Your shirt didn't cover much more, your chest barely covered and your back mostly exposed.

He wasn't even close to the only one noticing. You caught the eyes of many around you. Your friends and strangers alike.

Your friends brought you an endless supply of drinks and he sincerely wanted them to stop, but he was choosing his battles wisely. His current battle was not walking over and ripping you away from everyone else to take you home.

You kept locking eyes with him, like you were now, while pressed against a man he didn't recognize.

The man behind you had his hands on your hips, just above the cut outs in your skirt, fingers lingering close to the buckles that held the front and back together. He traced the metal of them while you danced. You barely noticed.

You refused to look away from Matsukawa. Your eyes lingered on the flex of his muscles while he watched you grind your hips against the man behind you.

You stopped minding the man behind you, not even feeling his breath fanning against your neck as you watched Matsukawa's eyes rake up and down your form. They were watchin how your hips moved, but his willpower was too strong to give in to the temptation you gave him as you tried to beckon him over.

You'd almost completely forgotten about the man behind you until his fingers dipped into the cute of your skirt.

Matsukawa watched as your eyes widened, your concentration on him breaking as you tried to swat at the stranger's hands. He nearly growled when the man behind you pulled you closer instead of letting you go.

Matsukawa kicked off the wall immediately, quickly pushing through the crowd and beelined to where you were snapping at the man who still held you.

"I swear to god, take your hands off me." Your nails were scraping against his wrists. "Now."

Matsukawa just barely caught the man behind you laughing as the words slurred out of his lips. "Do you think I'm scared of a woman?" The man asked, just before you watched Matsukawa's hand grab the stranger's arm in an unforgiving grip.

You were quick to slink behind Matsukawa's frame, his body hiding yours as his grip bruised your assailant. "You should be scared of me."

Your mouth parted slightly, hating the fuzzy feeling that grew in your stomach at the way Matsukawa growled out the threat. Your eyes widened as you realized that a brief thought had crossed your mind. You shook your head free of it, the dizziness coming back as you tuned out the men in front of you.

When Matsukawa released the man and shooed him off, his intention was to turn and grab you , to take you home. But as he turned, you were already gone. He groaned as he caught sight of you through the crowd, now halfway across the room, tipping another glass against your lips as one of your friends encouraged you towards the stage.

You laughed as you climbed onto the stage and he glared, watching you lean towards the pianist playing. Your song request was heeded quickly, the man smiling as he cut his song short and picked up a new beat.

Matsukawa began pushing his way through the crowd again, but the crowd only got denser closer to the stage. Especially now, since there was something to watch.

Two of your friends joined you on stage, encouraging you to dance. Your hands were in your hair, clothes revealing more and more skin as you swung your hips on stage to the song.

Matsukawa took a deep irritated breath as he finally made it to the edge of the stage. It took everything in himself to pry his eyes off your hips, off the skin of the tops of your thighs. He swallowed the lump in your throat as he caught your eye.

You smirked, giggle on your lips as you beckoned him up with one finger - only to have him shake his head, denying you. You only shrugged and laughed as he worriedly glanced around at all the hungry eyes on you up there.

His eyes only rolled when you turned your back on him again, crawling your way onto the piano to lay down. You laughed as people in the crowd whooped and hollered, encouraging you. You threw a few flirty winks around the crowd before looking at Matsukawa again.

He looked so serious in the crowd, a stone against the pushing of the other guests, and you couldn't help but bite your lip. You kept your half-open eyes locked on him as you arched your back off the piano, taking pride in how his body seemed to straighten up more when his eyes flicked across your body.

The song was over much too quickly for your liking. Much too slowly for his. You were laughing nonetheless when your friends came off the stage with you. You giggled when Matsukawa reached you, taking your new glass out of your hands as your friends talked about heading to another bar. You were set to agree when Matsukawa cut you off.

"Actually, we're leaving early, we have something to get to." His words were said in a definitive tone, one that you didn't pick up right away through your drunken haze.

"What?" You shook your head, "no we don't-" you caught his pointed glance and groaned, "oh, okay fine." You sighed and turned back to your friends. "I'll call you guys later."

You were still giggly, despite your night cut short, as you said your goodbyes and pointed your steps towards the door. You tried to get there before Matsukawa did, your irritation in him growing. You weren't done partying but if he wanted you to leave your friends, you would do just that.

"Y/n, where are you going?" You rolled your eyes, steps stuttering as you traveled away from the bar, ignoring him. "Do not ignore me."

You cursed as you nearly fell, catching yourself on the wall. "Fuck off, Matsukawa." You called back, shrieking slightly when you realized that he was next to you.

"Take off your heels." He instructed, only for you to swat his hands away when he reached for you. He rolled his eyes when you tried to push away from him, falling only to be barely caught in time by him.

You wined as he lifted you easily into his arms, one tucking under your legs as the other wrapped around your waist. Your face flushed hot as you felt his muscles constrict around your form. "Wh-what are you doing!"

"I'm carrying you home." You pushed at his arms, trying to get out of his grip but he paid you no mind. It was easy for him to manhandle your body, tossing you over his shoulder as he started to walk, his large hand covering the back of your thighs easily to keep you in place.

Your eyes widened as you clamped your thighs together, afraid he'd be able to note the rush of heat that flooded your core, that it would embarrass you. "Put me down!" You protested as you slammed your hands against his back, watching the ground under you move as he carried you towards where you assumed his car was.

He sighed and you could feel his hair brush against the skin of your hip as he shook his head at you. "Would you quit beating me up!" You froze and whined when his hands roughly grabbed each of your upper thighs, unintentionally letting his fingers tuck themselves between them.

Your whole body felt hot by the time he dropped you down in the front seat of his car. Your brain was fuzzy, all-consumed by him as he shut your door and rounded to his own side.

Your next idea, you came to regret fairly quickly. If you'd have been sober, it would have stayed an idea. Instead, you acted on it.

Matsukawa leaned over you, dragging the seatbelt across your body to buckle you in. You unintentionally leaned closer to him. "Don't be mad at me Mattsun." You wore a pout on his lips but he refused to look at you as he started the car and began to drive. "Where are we going?" You giggled, leaning across the center console as you tried to drag your hand against his chest.

He was quick to grab your hand and push it back to your side of the car. "Stop." It was an order through clenched teeth. "I'm taking you home."

You giggled, smiling as you watched your hand find his bicep again. "You can take me to bed if you want." He sighed in response and glanced at you quickly. He took you in, glazed over eyes and bitten lips, gaze raking down his form as he drove you.

"God I cannot let your parents see you like this." You were giggling, hiccupping in between, as you tried to rub down his arm.

He only stared straight ahead as he drove, but at the next light, as he stopped, he was quick to remove your hands from his body. He put your hands, and your upper body, completely back onto your side of the car again.

"Why are you so mad at me?" Your voice was quiet now, tears edging it as another pout set into your features.

He snapped, "are you fucking kidding me!?" He turned away from you again to face the road as he drove. "What you're doing is fucking dangerous. Why would you do it?" He growled out his irritation and you tilted your head in confusion, wondering why he was so worked up when none of your other bodyguards had ever cared like that before. "Do you know how many fucking people would kill to touch you?" He was still talking, lecturing, but you'd lost your focus on his words.

People would kill to touch you.

You were staring at the way his hands tightened around the steering wheel of the car. You didn't even notice how you bit your lip, his hands made the wheel seem small in your eyes, but really they were just so big. Everything about him was big, actually.

Your eyes flicked down slightly for a moment and you clenched your thighs a bit. You would put money on everything about him being big...

You moved your hand toward him again but he caught it before you could touch him. You took the chance to keep his hand in your grasp. He let you keep it, placating your apparent need to touch him as he tried to drive.

You turned is hand over in your grip, fingers tracing the lines along his large palm. You were entranced by it, tuning out his voice. Your hands moved on your own, pressing your palm against his to compare the size difference between the two.

"And what about you, Mattsun?" You glanced back up at him, missing how his head quickly jerked away from staring at you to face front again. He'd stopped talking to watch they way you fit your hand against his own. He cleared his throat roughly, waiting for you to clarify yourself. "Do you want to touch me?"

Matsukawa swore that his breathing stopped for a second, his eyes flicked momentarily to the way you looked up at him from across the car's center. His lips formed the word before he had the chance to stop it. "Yes."

It was an admission spoken like a guilty man. One he knew he'd never make to you if he wasn't sure that you wouldn't remember this night when you woke up in the morning.

However, at this moment, the confession made a smile grow on your lips, your hands dragging his down to rest on your bare thigh. "You can touch me if you want." You enticed, parting your legs and trying to pull his hand between them.

He was quick to pull it out of your grasp and place it back on the wheel, a safe place for him to have it. "Not like this." It was a mumble that you could barely make out and his lack of action confused you.

You were still trying to get his attention back when he pulled into a parking lot that you didn't recognize. The building was a little run down and you realized, as Matsukawa got out of the car, that this must have been where his apartment was.

"Look Mattsun, we're already at your place." You whined as he guided you into the elevator, pressing the third floor. You had attached your body to his arm, your words slurring more than they had been at the beginning of your drive. "You can just take me to bed, Mattsun. I want you to."

He was trying not to look at you, blatantly ignoring the way that you were staring up at him, begging him to touch you. He denied your request again, watched as the doors opened and guided you down the hall towards his apartment door.

"Do you not want me?" Your voice sounded small, insecurity creeping into your words as your steps faltered, watching him slip his key into his lock.

He sighed and his movements were blurry in your eyes and you suddenly found yourself pressed between him and the door. Your chin was gripped in his hand, forcing you to look him in the eyes. Your breath hitched, you hadn't been this close to him since the kiss you'd shared only two weeks prior.

"Let me make myself very clear." You swallowed hard as you focused on him, his face perfectly clear with how close he was, despite your otherwise blurry vision. "Are you listening?" You nodded the best you could in his grip.

"Don't mistake my inaction as a lack of desire." You blinked and missed the way his eyes flicked to your lips briefly. "I want you so badly it pains me, but I want you to want me." You opened your mouth to speak but he never gave you the chance. "I want you to want me, sober." You subconsciously flicked your eyes back and forth between the two of his.

"You're trashed right now, you'll forget all of this by tomorrow." He sighed, his grip on your chin loosening slightly but neither of you moved yet. "And the first time I touch you," he let his eyes drag down your body and you could feel yourself shrinking under his gaze, your skin heating up with the way he seemed to eat you alive with just his eyes, "I want you to remember it."

You tried and failed to suppress the whimper that crawled its way out of your throat. "I want you to remember every touch, every feeling, every word and sound that leaves my lips." His lips, you were staring at them now, less than an inch away from your own and dangerously enticing.

You could feel yourself leaning towards him, wanting to connect your lips, but the wall behind you fell away. You gasped as he caught you again, guiding you through the now open door and walking into his apartment.

"Mattsun." You whined his name, confidence restored as you tugged on his arm.

"You can have the room, I'll sleep on the couch." He was back to ignoring you, not even looking at you as he sat on the couch to take off his shoes.

Your hands were on his shoulders in an instant, pushing them back against the couch as you swung your leg over him, settling yourself onto his lap. His hands instinctively found your hips, pulling you into a safer position without even thinking first.

Your hands were busy, dragging your top higher up your frame. You smiled when you watched a blush creep up his cheeks at the sight of your body. He quickly turned his face away from you before your top was fully gone.

"Please Mattsun," you were whining, trying to grab his face so he would look at you again, "just touch me," you liked the way your body felt under his eyes, "look at me."

"You're drunk." He whispered it, like he was reminding himself. His cheeks were hot against the palms of your hands. He was struggling, biting back a groan when you ground your hips down onto him. He squeezed his eyes shut and his grip on your hips tightened, trying to keep you from doing it again. "You need to stop."

You huffed in annoyance and let go of his face, your hands coming to his and trying to drag them to where your skirt had ridden up. "Mattsun," your voice was so so whiny and slurring as you tried to grind against him, moaning in frustration at the lack of friction, "want you so bad."

He kept his hands firm against you as you tried to drag them but they only adjusted in their grip, fingers sliding by the buckles of your skirt. His breath hitched and you smiled as you felt him harden under you, his eyes zoning in on the exposed skin of your hips.

"God," it came out as a groan, a prayer to whoever was listening, for help. You'd spent the whole night without any panties under your too-short skirt. His chest rose and fell heavily as he became entranced by the way your hips twitched in his bruising grip, desperate to be able to drag across his own hips.

"You need to stop." His voice sounded dazed. He was dazed, straining to keep the last bit of his self-restraint.

You whined a bit, your nails digging painful but pretty crescent shapes into his biceps. "Want you in me, Mattsun." He squeezed his eyes shut again, his jaw and hands clenching as he tried to ignore the pleasure sparking through his body as you barely grazed against his bulge.

"You can have me, Mattsun. However you want me."

He let out a string of curses as he felt his pants get even tighter, dangerously close to cumming in his pants from just the way you panted and whined his name. "You know where I want you?"

You hummed, your eyes fluttering from your wanton movements, your lips smiling as he lets you think you've won.

"I want you riiight here."

You let out a squeak as his grip on your hips suddenly lifted you up from his lap, setting you onto the couch. Your eyes flew open and your vision cleared for a moment.

He was above you now, standing, a clear bulge in his pants and a heavy blush spread from cheeks down to neck, but he made no move for you. "As soon as we're both sober, we can do every dirty little thing you ever dreamed of." It was a promise he knew that he would have to break, but with the way you panted, chest heaving as you looked up at him with glossy eyes, he couldn't bear to deny you in a harsher way.

You looked up at him, tried to lock eyes with him, and he had to look away. He swore that he could see your heart breaking in your eyes.

"Mattsun," you started quietly, arms coming up to cover your chest defensively.

He didn't let you finish. Instead, he turned and walked towards his bathroom. The door closing was definitive, a barricade between him and you - the temptation he almost couldn't fight.

a/n bodyguard mattsun, have my heart and soul....

TAGLIST - OPEN @boosyboo9206 @faumpje

[flyingwargle]

whumptober day 1: panic attack

tw: panic attacks

iwaizumi knew today is going to be a bad one from the moment he woke up.

every step is akin to torture, leaden limbs refusing to cooperate with even the slightest movement. his gaunt expression stares back at him in the mirror, faintly encouraging him to take a day off. this wouldn't be the first time, nor the last, but the team has a practice match after school. their ace can't afford a mental health day, not when victory is on the line.

"morning, iwa-chan!" oikawa meets him on the corner of their block, a routine they've had since they were old enough to walk to school together. his best friend's chipper expression falls at iwaizumi's slumped shoulders and downturned eyes. "you look awful, even worse than usual. bad day?"

he nods. oikawa's smile is small, stretching his arm toward him. iwaizumi takes his hand, reassured by its strength, and lets him guide him to school.

morning practice is on the lighter side, which iwaizumi is grateful for. it's easy to turn his brain off for drills, guided by muscle memory and instinct. oikawa isn't as loud as usual, which is his teammates' cue that their ace is at the mercy of his anxiety, curbing their exuberance for his benefit.

at the end of practice, they change into their uniforms and head for the school building. oikawa hands iwaizumi a protein bar, leaves him with a gentle pat on the shoulder when they separate to their respective classrooms.

the buzz in his mind worsens as the day passes. iwaizumi doesn't retain anything from his lectures, barely takes any notes. at lunch, he stares at his bento while oikawa, hanamaki, and matsukawa chatter, ultimately reaching for the lid to put it away, untouched. that causes all conversation to cease, earning him an incredulous look from oikawa. "what?"

"you have to eat, iwa-chan," he says, stopping his hand. "we had morning practice, and a game after school. you need the energy."

"i'm not-"

"did you take your meds?" hanamaki asks.

he shakes his head. “they make me drowsy. i can’t fall asleep now.”

"i think that's better than this," matsukawa comments, gesturing with his chopsticks. "you aren't in any condition to play, anyway."

"i'll be fine," iwaizumi insists. "hanamaki is still out with his rolled ankle, and kunimi is absent. what kind of message are we sending, if all our regular spikers aren’t on the court?”

“it’s just a practice match,” oikawa points out. “it isn’t the end of the world, iwa-chan.” and yet, he can’t help but feel like it is, a tremor shaking his body at the idea of sitting out because of his anxiety. he isn’t that fragile. he can push passed this.

or so he thinks.

the end of the school day comes, and iwaizumi is back in the gym. jouzenji will arrive in an hour; in the meantime, he hardens his expression, directs his underclassmen and speaks with oikawa to finalize their line-up. “iwa-chan, you-“ he turns away, ignoring the rest of oikawa’s words to help their managers with the practice bibs.

jouzenji arrives, and after a quick warm-up, the match begins. iwaizumi starts in the back row, ready to receive. his heartbeat echoes in his ears, nearly drowning the whistle. the serve goes up, the ball flying across the net straight toward him.

shit, the ball is flying straight toward him. panic rises in his chest, raising his arms to receive, but it’s at an awkward angle, and it bounces out of bounds. the first point comes to jouzenji.

his heart lurches at the astonished looks around him. matsukawa claps his hands. “don’t mind,” he calls out. watari echoes him. the others turn away. iwaizumi gives a quick apology, avoiding oikawa’s eye.

watari picks up the second serve, and oikawa sets the rhythm. they go back and forth, and iwaizumi is rotated to the front. matsukawa serves, their opponents picking it up. matsukawa receives their spike, and iwaizumi makes his approach. he jumps, raises his arm. his fingers barely brush the ball.

it falls back on their side. iwaizumi looks at oikawa, hands still over his head. “iwa-chan-“ he tries to say.

“sorry. i’ll score the next one.” his limbs are still so heavy. same with his chest.

after a few rallies, he’s jumping for the spike again. a triple block rises over him, the ball floating in front of him. he musters his strength and spikes, a satisfying smash that echoes in his ears. except, the ball rebounds off the block and back onto the court. a point for jouzenji.

a chorus of don’t mind! arises. iwaizumi braces himself on his knees, breathless. he hears his opponents murmur behind him. are you sure that’s seijoh’s ace? was he always this pathetic? there are snickers and declarations of victory. his team is three points behind, jouzenji the first to reach 20. he hasn’t scored a single point, squandering every chance, being absolutely useless–

“iwaizumi.”

coach. he beckons him with his finger, and iwaizumi stumbles toward him. “i don’t want you to play in this condition. take a break.”

“i’m fine, i just–“

“it isn’t a suggestion, but an order. sit out.”

iwaizumi freezes. his replacement takes his place on the court. instead of sitting with hanamaki on the bench, he drags his feet to the locker room, shoving the door open, and sinking onto the nearest bench.

the anxiety that’s been building since the moment he woke up finally claims him.

his breaths are short. the air is sweltering. his chest hurts with every gasp, tears at the corners of his eyes. he squeezes them shut, tries to count his breaths like his therapist taught him, but his thoughts run rampant, a deafening symphony that makes him feel smaller and smaller.

you’re useless. you just left your team behind without scoring a single point. what kind of ace are you? useless, failure, don’t deserve to play, weak, weak, weak–

“hajime.” a voice cuts through the darkness, a bridge of light through the spiral. “hajime, listen to me, okay? let’s get your breathing under control, hm?”

iwaizumi gasps like a fish out of water. the voice is unperturbed, counts his breaths with a measured tone. a hand rests on his back, rubbing counterclockwise circles. “you’re doing well,” the voice soothes. a handkerchief touches his cheeks to dry his tears. “you’re safe with me, iwa-chan. you’re doing so well.”

that makes him open his eyes. he’s still in the locker room, oikawa seated beside him, still in his practice uniform, #1 bib over his shirt. iwaizumi tries to speak, his words caught in his throat. oikawa places a finger on his lips, shaking his head. “don’t talk, just breathe. it’s just us. take your time.”

the last of his panic recedes, leaving him boneless, as always. iwaizumi leans against oikawa, fresh wave of tears springing in his eyes. “why’re you here?” he rasps.

“do you really think i’d keep playing, knowing my best friend is having a panic attack? yahaba-chan is a good setter, you know. mattsun can take care of the team; we’re heading home.”

“what? but-“

“no buts. we’re going home and you’re going to take your meds. i asked makki to text auntie what happened, so she’ll make your comfort food, and i’ll feed you. then, you’re going to sleep. i’d say take a bath too, but that can wait.” oikawa turns to him, expression solemn. “it was dumb of you to play like this, iwa-chan. just because you aren’t physically hurt doesn’t mean you can pretend you’re fine.”

iwaizumi deflates. he used to give oikawa so much shit about overworking, but when it came to his own mental health, he always pushed through, even if it left him exhausted or worse, panicked. “sorry,” he mumbles.

oikawa shakes his head. “there’re more matches, you know. it’s okay to sit out when you have to. ready to go?” he stands first, supporting iwaizumi every step through changing and then out of the locker room. they leave with the match to their backs, the sounds of the court reminding iwaizumi of what’s to come, but only if he cares for himself better.

he’ll learn. he has to.

[renardiererin]

ISLAND BREEZE an interactive haikyuu smau

synopsis -> congratulations! you’ve been accepted onto netflix’s very own island breeze. this season will include a myriad of new styles that are never before seen, including a bachelorette style, a sprinkle of love island, too hot to handle type challenges, and some celebrity guests! as always, island breeze wouldn’t be island breeze without plot twists… at the end of every chapter, YOU (yes you, the reader) will vote on the decisions of our very own y/n. see you on the beach! don’t forget to vote after each chapter!

episodes.. (TO BE ANNOUNCED)

warnings -> suggestive content (nothing explicit), alcohol mentions, swearing, etc.

rating -> PG13

tags/keywords -> smau, social media au, rintarou suna, rintarou suna smau, netflix au, reality tv au, little bits of humor i hope, angst, forced proximity, love square, suna x f!reader, iwaizumi x f!reader, iwaizumi smau, hajime iwaizumi, issei matsukawa, mattsun smau, mattsun x f!reader, secret fourth option???

coming soon! [00.00.24 - ]

taglist - send an ASK to be added or removed <3

@satoruzlove @itsdragonius @empathum @twiishaa @yuminako  @reverie-starlight @xbl00dy-r0s3x @universal-s1ut @koushisbabie @breakmyheartlater @phoenix-eclipses @ris-krispie @2baddies-1porsche @girlkissersco @dontmindtheevie @reekapeeka @leave-rae-alone @noideawhothatis @moonlit-mizukage @thirtykiwis @highkey-fangirling @ast4rg1rl @razberrywrites @zamorazz @k0z3me @iluvhellokitty @gsyche

wave divider by @/cafekitsune <3

[cottonlemonade]

Dating You For A Bet [Part 2]

word count: 1756 || avg. reading time: 8 mins.

pairing: University AU!Matsukawa x chubby!Reader

genre: angst

warnings: bullying

[part 1]

The following days were miserable. Between dodging Matsukawa lurking outside your dorm and having to see him in most of your seminars and lectures it was hard to pretend that you didn’t care, much to the delight of the fellow students who apparently had nothing better to do or collectively lost their WiFi and were starved for entertainment. They threw glances between the two of you as if following a tennis match, although you were stubbornly pretending to follow the lesson while Issei just listlessly stared at his closed book.

He had tried to talk to you after lectures, during lunch, or when he ran into you at the convenience store but to no avail. You remained strong, frequently reminding yourself that everything from your first kiss to the first time sleeping together was solely done to win a bet. A bet! To him, you were nothing more than some easily manipulated, naive girl from a country he probably didn’t even know how to spell. The three crumpled notes from that day were still at the bottom of your trash can, unread, and now buried under more paper scraps, gum wrappers, and empty juice boxes. Your roommate hadn’t noticed or questioned why you didn’t leave in the evenings anymore to go on dates. Chances were that she had read about the whole thing online.

You were tired of it all. The initial burst of energy you felt, fueled by nothing but spite, had finally ebbed away and at this point, Christmas was drawing nearer and nearer and you ran on fumes. Having tried to deep dive into homework and assignments had left you fatigued and vulnerable, so it came to no surprise that a month after the break up you couldn’t take it anymore. You had figured that the other students would eventually move on to the next shiny thing but not so. A small group of boys and girls stood in front of the library with coffee cups steaming in their hands. You braced yourself inwardly. You just wanted to quickly return a book and then you’d be on your way again. When you approached them they interrupted their conversation to very obviously look you up and down as if judging your post-break-up fashion choices.

“I just knew there had to be a reason for him dating her.”, one of them said, deliberately loud enough for you to hear.

“Oh my god, I know right? I can’t believe she fell for it. I mean, what would someone like him ever see in someone like her.”, another piped up.

“Honestly kudos to him, I dunno if I could have gotten it up with her in bed.” They laughed.

You stopped on your way up the stairs. Matsukawa stood in front of you just coming out of the building, a tattered, well-annotated book in hand and his bag half-hearted slung over his shoulder.

The group of friends gasped quietly and hushed each other, waiting.

“Y/n…”, Issei said softly, then snapped at the others, “Don’t you have somewhere to be?!”

They laughed again but hurried inside.

“Y/-“

He couldn’t even finish the word. You had already turned around and walked away. And he would have let you get the space you needed if he didn’t see you cry. Readjusting his bag he slowly made his way down the steps and followed you, a couple of meters behind.

Whenever you missed your family he had tried to bring a bit of home to you with a traditional dish he knew you loved - that he usually messed up - or by watching a Disney movie in your native language while snuggling up on his bed under a blanket. But what had helped you most of all when you were upset was always a simple hug. And he never let go first. He made sure that you knew he would hold you as long as you needed. When you first told him you loved him he was wracked with guilt. He had since come to realize how messed up the whole thing was and tried to get out of it. He lied when his friends asked him if he had completed the bet but his roommate had only patted him on the back and accused him of being modest. And he, Issei, had forced a smile and accepted the money feeling like the most disgusting person in the world. The money still sat untouched in his sock drawer. He didn’t want to use it. He felt ashamed of himself but whenever he spent time with you he was weirdly glad that he agreed to the bet. Otherwise, who knows if he would have walked up to you as he had. Privately, to make himself feel better, he thought, of course he would have.

He would have noticed eventually how amazing you were.

He would have eventually seen how much you two had in common, that in all actuality you were his dream girl.

He would have. Eventually. Wouldn’t he?

Probably not, he had to admit. Ever since puberty hit him like a truck he walked around with a newfound level of confidence. This must have been what it was like for Oikawa back then - girls doing a double take and smiling when they saw him, little admiring love notes tucked quickly into his workbook when he wasn’t looking. All the attention slowly rose to his head and he became arrogant, leading to agreeing to a bet he would have punched his friends for in high school.

Hands in his pockets and breath forming little clouds in front of him, Issei’s heart broke all over again when he caught a small sound from you like a sniffle or a sob. As if on reflex his hand slid into the front of his bag to check for tissues, then remembered you probably wouldn’t accept them.

You finally came to a halt at a bench near your dorm. You spun around and stared at him icily through red puffy eyes.

“Stop following me. You know this is creepy, right?”

“I prefer to see it as romantic.”

You scoffed. “It’s only romantic if feelings are reciprocated.”

He swallowed hard. “… I deserved that.” Then he reached into his bag and retrieved a water bottle, walked a little closer, and held it out.

“Here, drink something. I can see you squinting like you do when you’re about to get a massive headache, come on.”

You had a retort ready to launch but your head was starting to pound from the crying so with a scowl you took it and gulped down a few sips.

“None of this makes what you did okay.”, you said, unwavering.

He nodded. “I know. - Can I hold you anyway? Just til you stop crying.”

His question made new tears well in your eyes and he closed the gap between you. Before he hugged you, he hesitated in case you would kick and scream if he did. When you only continued to cry he wrapped his arms around you. At first, it was like hugging a mannequin. Then he felt you shiver and sob harder and he squeezed you tighter.

This, the warmth of him, smell of him, soothing murmurs in your ear, made it all too easy to forget for a moment why he wasn’t yours anymore.

You subconsciously grabbed onto his jacket and he started slowly swaying from side to side. He missed you so damn much. His eyes began to sting.

And on reflex like he always had, he pressed his lips against your temple, then against your cheek, then your lips. You stiffened for a moment, then returned the kiss. With his heart swelling in his chest, he cupped your cheeks to wipe away the tears, but you were already pushing him away.

“No! You can’t just… this is not okay. You hurt me! You … you broke my heart! I feel embarrassed! And pathetic. And betrayed! Don't you understand?!”

His vision blurred and he lowered his head to stare at your shoes again to hide that he started crying as well. He just nodded at first, then took a shallow breath to calm down a little.

“I know.”, he said, his voice thick and raspy. He cleared his throat, “What I did was horrible. And immature. And there is no way I can take it back. But I do love you.”

“Tch.”

“So much. I don’t want to be without you.”

“Would you give me another chance?”, you asked suddenly.

He looked up. “What?”

“If you were in my shoes. If I did to you what you did to me. Could you just get over that? Imagine if someone way out of your league started flirting with you because they thought it was funny. Because they wanted to see if they could make you fall in love. For fun.”

“That’s not… I’m so so sorry, Y/n.”

“Stop saying that!”

“I don’t know what else to do! Please, tell me, I’ll do anything!”

“There is nothing you can do! I told you it’s over!”

“I refuse to believe that! Let me show you how much I love you! I know that some part of you still loves me, too. And I know you’ll forgive me eventually because you’re a much better person than I am.”

“I think you severely underestimate just how petty I can be and how much I love holding grudges.”, you retorted and the smallest smile twitched on his lips.

There was a pause in which his expression turned gentler again and he used the sleeve of his jacket to mop up the tears gathering on his chin. “Tell me what I can do.”

“Actually show me that you’re sorry? - And find better friends.”

“Done.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”, he said firmly, “You’ll see.”

“Hm hm.”, you said doubtfully and held out the bottle to him, “Thanks for the water. I should get going.”

“Book club tonight, right?”, he asked. It was still set as a permanent reminder in his phone’s calendar so that he’d come to pick you up afterward to walk you to your dorm.

“Actually… I have a date.”

You waited for a moment before you dared to look at him again. His face had fallen and he seemed at a loss for words. When you brushed past him you half expected him to grab your hand again, to try to talk you out of it. But nothing. He stood exactly where you left him and so you went inside.

tags because I genuinely appreciate all your comments and reblogs: @samoankpoper21 @garouaddict @gojoscloset @multi-fandom-fanfic @crazyyanderefangirlfan

[part 3]