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yuyu-writes · 7 months

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sweet (just like you) [18+]

[ kinktober 2023 ] day 5 - freebie

⟡ haikyuu!! -- matsukawa issei x reader

⟡ wc: 8,170

⟡ working from @/darling--core's kinktober list! NSFW, 18+ only!

⟡ summary:

Who would have thought, Matsukawa Issei, your best friend's best friend, is a demon?

Obviously, not you. But it works out in your favor, even if you're a demon hunter.

Archive of Our Own

It’s a school night, so you should probably head home soon.

It’s a passing thought as you wipe your cheek, rubbing away the black sludge on your skirt. The stench of blood and ash fills your nose as you watch the minor demon melt. It’s shrieking, writhing in pain as your exorcism spell reaches its end.

Its inky tendril reaches for you, but you don’t even flinch, watching it dissolve into the air with a final cry.

A sigh escapes your lips, and you finally relax your shoulders.

The demons around Miyagi have been more active as of late, and it’s taken a toll on you. You’ve been taking longer patrols after school, which means you stay up later into the night to complete your homework before sleeping a restless sleep and repeating the cycle. You could probably count the number of hours you’ve slept on average with one hand, yikes.

You’re tired, to be frank. Thankfully, most of them are lower levels, but they’re a force to be reckoned with when they have power in numbers, and you only have so much energy to take care of a large area on your own.

It’s not like you voluntarily chose to hunt demons. But it wasn’t something you could walk away from. Ever since you began seeing them as a child, you soon found yourself under the local priest’s training, mastering basic exorcism techniques and continuing to practice advanced ones that even the priest struggled to use.

No one else saw what you saw, only becoming a victim to them when they sapped human energy to gain more power. You’re not too sure how they’ve come into the human world, but the priest theorizes it’s some sort of rift that has let them cross the barrier. Closing the rift is a whole different story, and even you’re stumped for ideas, so you do what you can in the meantime.

If you could make someone’s life easier, unburdened and no longer haunted, you would.

It was a thankless duty, but a duty regardless.

You head home for the day, dreading the upcoming exams and the pile of homework that sits in your backpack, completely blank.

“Oh, [Name]!”

The call of your name has you jolting awake at your desk, quickly blinking away the sleep as you look up. “Hiro? What’s up?”

The clay-haired boy enters your classroom, making his way to your desk and sitting in the one in front of yours. For the most part, everyone went off to eat lunch outside since the weather has gotten warmer, which lets you ditch the thick winter uniform for the short sleeve button-up and skirt.

“You said you’d meet me and the other guys for lunch, but you never showed up. And now I find you dozing off– you good?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you wave off, rubbing your eyes. “Been sleeping late the past few nights, but I’m going to try to fix up my sleep schedule this weekend, hopefully.”

Hanamaki eyes you suspiciously, and you stare at him with the same intensity. As childhood friends, you can read him just as easily as he can read you. It’s not often you wear yourself out to the point it's noticeable, but it just can’t be helped and like the workaholic you are, you can always blame it on upcoming college entrance exams.

He gives in with a sigh when he realizes you aren’t faltering, and he shrugs. “Just don’t push yourself too hard,” he says, gently. “You work hard enough as is, and I think you deserve a break with how much you’ve been doing.”

You smile, because you know how much he cares, and you know that he still respects your drive and your own judgment. This also makes you extra careful around Hiro, who would absolutely freak out if he knew you were out hunting demons.

“Yeah. You too, with volleyball. I don’t think your friends would appreciate having two volleyball-obsessed players.”

“Ha! Like I’d ever reach Oikawa’s level of obsession.”

You banter with him a little, your exhaustion melting away as you chat with your best friend before he suddenly stops mid-sentence with a noise of realization.

“Wait! You haven’t eaten anything, right? Since you were sleeping?” he asks, and when you nod, he stands up quickly, ignoring the way he trips over the chair slightly and grabs your wrist.

“Let’s grab something from the cafeteria before it closes! We can probably make it!”

And you run with him down the halls, dodging friend groups and teachers who yell at the two of you to behave.

And for the first time in a while, you smile brightly, enjoying this moment of normalcy.

While you absolutely love Hiro, you find yourself unsettled ever so slightly with his friends.

Not Iwaizumi, since he’s rather respectful and polite, and not Oikawa, since he’s just a flirt whenever you’re around.

But Matsukawa Issei is another story. He is…dangerous, for a lack of a better word.

You find yourself nibbling on a curry bun that Hiro managed to buy from the cafeteria right before they closed. With about fifteen minutes left of lunch, you take him up on his previous offer to eat with his friends, sitting on top of the school rooftop with the four boys as they finish up their lunches.

When you greet them, you can’t help but avoid Matsukawa’s heavy stare. There was something oddly familiar and unsettling about it…something you couldn’t quite put your finger on, and you opted to blame it on the unfamiliarity, or the fact that he’s one of Hanamaki’s closer friends after entering high school.

The idea that Matsukawa stole Hanamaki from you doesn’t sit well in your gut and you chastise yourself for even having that thought. Maybe he thinks the same thing, hence the strange feeling you get whenever you are near him.

You push it to the back of your mind, and do your best to ignore him as lunch comes to an end, heading back to class. It’s uneventful, as always, learning new concepts and putting them to use on your worksheets and later, for exams. It’s mundane, but you enjoy it, since it’s not like you’re actively putting yourself in danger as you normally do.

As soon as the last class ends with the ring of the bell, you briefly replay Hanamaki’s concerned words, before you shake your head.

You’re better than that, you could keep hunting, keep helping , even just a little. It’s a responsibility that you’ve chosen to handle, and you can’t slack off just because you’re a little tired .

It’s ok, you reason with yourself as you pack up your notes. Just a short patrol, and you’ll take time to rest today.

It’s unfortunate that your plans always seem to get foiled, and you eat your words. Literally.

A blast sends you flying, and you think you hit your head against the lightpost before absolutely eating shit on the sidewalk. The demons laughs, it’s screeching noise grates your ears, slightly disorienting you as you struggle to get up. You’re unsteady on your feet and while you’re fully aware of how hard you’re pushing yourself, you can’t just go home, not when the demon presence in this area is just so high.

It wasn’t this bad before. Their numbers keep rising, and your efforts barely make a dent in their forces. It’s a harrowing thought that makes you falter for a moment, but you grit your teeth and steel yourself once more. Summoning another talisman, you launch it at the demon, watching the paper attach themselves to its body, burning through the inky black as it disintegrates. Your limbs tremble, and you ignore the numbness in your legs.

You let out a shaky exhale, but you remain on alert. The air is saturated with despair and evil, and it makes your chest tight.

You’re so, so tired.

Just one more sector. Just a little more and you can end your patrol and go home and get rest.

Just one more–

Thump!

Huh?

Pain sprouts at the temple of your head. You’re staring across the asphalt of the alleyway, the faint silhouettes of demons growing larger–coming closer to you from the street.

Get up, get up!

Yet no matter how much you willed your body to, you lay crumpled, defeated, and tired.

A wave of cold dread washes over you and you close your eyes tight.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry Hiro, I’m–

High-pitched shrills fill the air, and your eyes fly open, immediately lifting your head to see –

“Makki kept telling me he was worried about how tired you looked. Guess this explains why, huh?”

Matsukawa is standing protectively in front of you, but your eyes land on the black, ridged horns that protrude from his messy hair, curling slightly at the tip and alarms blare in your mind.

Matsukawa Issei is a demon.

And you have to kill him.

The thought crosses your mind briefly, but then you look past him, watching as his splayed hand emits another burst of energy that disintegrates the demons at the mouth of the alleyway. They are the ones screaming in pain, they are the ones to die in front of your eyes. Not you.

“Why…” you mumble, because what was this demon doing, attacking his own kind to protect you?

Without a response, he finishes off the last of the small demons who have attempted to escape around the corner, and silence falls over the two of you.

Shit, maybe he’s going to kill you next. Maybe he’s just so cruel to take the kill of a demon hunter all to himself. Without a doubt, he was not some weak troublesome demon–no, he was much, much stronger than those you normally deal with.

He would enjoy watching you die, watching the life leave your eyes in amusement.

You close your eyes tight, trying your best to get up, trying your best to come to terms that you are going to die at the hands of a demon (your best friend's best friend, nonetheless) as you listen to his footsteps grow closer and closer. They stop, and you know he’s standing over you, probably reveling in the sight of your weak, crumpled body.

You brace yourself once more, expecting pain to erupt and bring you to the edge of death.

“Can you stand?” You open your eyes, confusion filling your head. He’s crouched down, hand hovering over your face. The chilling smile of death that you envisioned is erased as you see his eyebrows furrowed as he scans your figure for injuries.

His eyes have a red tint to them that makes you freeze for a moment. He knows fear when he sees it, and he sees it clearly in you as he meets your gaze.

“Y-Yeah. I think so,” you say slowly, shifting to rise. His hands hover over you still as you get to your feet, wobbly, and standing for just a moment before your knees buckle from under you. Matsukawa is quick, arms encircling your frame and catching you before you can hit the ground again. He sits you down against the cold wall, maneuvering you, careful to lean your head back with his hand.

“You’re bleeding a bit,” he points to his forehead, and you swipe at your own, grimacing at the blood. “But you aren’t hurt anywhere else. I’m glad.”

“Glad?” you parrot in disbelief. “You’re glad that I, a demon hunter, am not hurt?”

Matsukawa blinks, before he laughs, soft chuckles escape him and you watch him incredulously because why does he think this is funny? “Yeah, I’m glad,” he says, smiling. “Since you’re the one keepin’ most of them at bay. I try to get rid of ones near the school area, but I usually don’t go any farther out than that.”

“What do you mean you get rid of them?”

He contemplates for a moment, eyeing the entrance of the alley before his eyes flicker back to you. “Maybe we should get out of here and have a chat, hm?”

Never in your life did you expect to find yourself in a demon’s home.

And never in your life did you expect that a demon’s home would be a cozy little apartment nestled in the residential district just ten minutes away from your high school.

To be fair, your life is anything but normal, so maybe this falls into the realm of likely possibilities.

That sucks, you suddenly think, because that means there are more things you simply don’t know about–which isn’t new, but it’s never a good thought to dwell on.

You keep your distance as he leads you back to his place. He lives on his own, having forged fake identities for his “parents” and keeping up the guise that they’re busy with work in Tokyo or abroad. It makes sense, but you’re filled with questions to the brim.

With the main one being, “why?”

He’s back to the human Matsukawa you’ve known for years, the one without horns and red-tinted eyes.

As he unlocks the door, you hesitate for a moment, suddenly imagining scenarios where you’re being led into a demon’s dungeon, that you’d be tortured and your soul would be offered up to the demon king or whatever higher level demon exists and–

“Are you just going to stand there?”

His deep voice brings you out of your stupor, and you’re embarrassed, gaping at him for his casual response–as if he’s just bringing a friend over to hang out. With a stutter of “no,” you enter, wary of your surroundings.

It’s plain, for the most part. Blank walls with minimal furniture fill the home, and everything is relatively cleaned up as you enter deeper. Matsukawa heads to the kitchen as you walk into the living room that has an untouched loveseat in front of a small TV.

“Tea? Or do you want some water?”

“Water is ok,” you answer him, and you take a seat gingerly, setting your bag down and suddenly feeling awkward.

He brings you a glass, and you thank him quietly, staring at it to see if there was anything amiss in your drink.

“It’s water,” Matsukawa deadpans at the sight of your intense stare. “I didn’t do anything to it, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ll get the first aid kit though, and we can clean up your head before we start talking.”

Watching him disappear to what you presume is the bathroom, you look back at the glass of water before taking a sip, which turns into two, and then two more gulps to finish it off.

As you set down the glass, you see Matsukawa return with a small kit and wet cloth, taking a seat next to you before cleaning up your wound. You bite your lip at the stinging sensation, staying still as he finishes up with a bandaid.

His hand is warm against your forehead, and you try not to let your mind linger on that fact.

“So, where should we start?” you ask, watching him pack up the kit and setting it on the coffee table. He hums, leaning back and throwing an arm over the back of the couch.

“I can start,” he proposes. “I’m a demon, as you already guessed. Was born, if you could call it that, about the same time you were probably born. I never really liked the idea of stealing human energy solely to grow powerful, so I aged slower and stayed under the radar to avoid getting killed by hunters.”

“And how’d you do that?” you ask, because you have to admit, he did a great job hiding his presence the past three years you’ve known him.

Something was always off about him, ever since the day you met him in your first year, where Hanamaki excitedly introduced you to his new teammates.

“Oh, I’m an incubus,” he says offhandedly. “Most of our kind usually don’t stand out in the first place, and it’s much easier for us to mask our scent and blend in with humans.”

“An…incubus? As in, the demons that…” you trail off, realization hitting you like a truck and it hits harder when you see Matsukawa smile.

“C’mon, you can finish that sentence, you’re a big girl,” Matsukawa teases, and you feel heat rise to your cheeks.

“You gain energy from sex.”

“Bingo.”

It takes your mind a moment to process and remember what you’ve learned about incubi. You haven’t encountered one before, to be honest, and you recall that they, as well as succubi, were the rarer types of demons to exist.

Most demons didn’t have a developed sense of consciousness, merely driven by their hunger for more energy, to gain more power with no other purpose.

You’re piecing things together because, yes, it makes sense now how he is so human despite being a demon, how he can retain a human form and not a monstrous blob, and–

“Wait a minute–then, who have you been having sex with–” you shut up the moment the question tumbles out, and Matsukawa laughs again, a deep, hearty laugh that leaves you absolutely humiliated.

“Wow, asking about my sex life already?”

A slap to his arm gets another laugh out of him. You have no doubt he’s enjoying teasing you.

“But, really. It was me and Makki, for a bit,” he says earnestly, and you let out a noise of surprise, but he doesn’t stop there. “No, we didn’t fuck or anything, before you jump to conclusions. We made out and stuff. But lately he’s been talking to that one girl in class 3-B, so we called it off–just a few days ago, actually.”

You feel a headache coming on.

First off, you’re definitely going to Makki and probing him about whatever fling he had with Matsukawa because how dare he not tell you about it.

Second–

“How are you still so powerful if you’ve been just living off…what you have–no, had with Hiro? What are you going to do now?”

“Well, that’s the thing, little hunter,” he mumbles, leaning back. “I used most of my energy on getting rid of those demons earlier, so I’m exhausted.”

You take a moment to mull over his words, and that’s when you realize how there are dark circles beneath his eyes, which was definitely not there before when he first helped you up.

“And it’s not like I’m going to go out and just go to anyone,” he continues after a moment. “I just want to live my life as normal as I can. ”

Whatever unsettled feeling you had in your stomach before is replaced by guilt. You’ve never…communicated with a demon before, and never did you think that they’d have such honest emotions and desires to be human.

“You really don’t want to harm anyone?”

“No,” Matsukawa responds, seriously. “I want to keep all of them safe: Makki, Iwaizumi, Oikawa, all of them.”

“You’re a traitor to your own kind.”

“And I’ll continue being one, if it means I can live as normal as I can.”

You stare at him, looking at his hooded, dark eyes to see if there is any hint of deceit. As suspicious as you were of him, you can’t help but believe him. And what would that do, killing a demon who just wanted a normal life, a demon who was also a dear friend to many?

Hiro would be devastated.

“I’m sorry,” you begin, and Matsukawa’s eyes widen, not at all expecting the apology. “All this time, I thought demons were…evil. But if you’re being honest, then who am I to kill you when you’re just trying to live a normal life?”

“Well, I’m glad that we’ve come to a truce,” Matsukawa says. “Thank you. Didn’t think all you hunters were fine with us, but I really do appreciate that you’re letting me live–I have no doubt you could kill me, even now.”

That makes the both of you chuckle, but soon after, a tired sigh escapes Matsukawa, and you see him close his eyes, and you’re suddenly reminded that he exhausted most of his energy saving your ass.

Perhaps it was obligation, perhaps it was curiosity, but–

Something burns inside you.

The words escape your lips before you can reel them back in, and you’re instantly mortified right as they leave your lips.

“If you need energy, then why not with me?”

You're staring at your hands that are folded on your lap, your entire form tense as you realize what exactly you just offered to him. Silence follows. No laughter, no rejection, no movement.

“Of course, you don’t have to agree–”

“You sure?”

Raising your head to meet his gaze, you’re frozen by the hungry look that he has in his eyes, darkened with an unfamiliar feeling that makes you shiver. You think you see red flash in his eyes.

“I…I owe you for saving me today,” you force out. “And if this helps you maintain your power, then we can maybe… work together to keep everyone safe.”

“I’m asking you again, are you sure?” he says, voice low, making a shiver crawl up your spine as he pushes himself up with his elbow, leaning closer to you.

“I’m sure,” you confirm, swallowing down any hesitation as you face him directly.

He surveys you, closing his eyes and chuckling a bit before he grins, amused.

“Thank you for the meal, little hunter.”

In an instant, he’s next to you, his breath ghosting over your ear, and you jolt in shock and at the sudden heat that runs through your veins. He’s leaning over you, trapping you with his arms and you gulp nervously, letting out a soft noise as his tongue trails along the curve of your ear before he moves further down, licking a stripe up your neck.

“You know, I always thought you were cute,” he mumbles into your skin. “I was surprised when Makki wasn’t into you, but that’s fine, it worked out perfectly in the end.”

His lips latch on, sucking gently, and you moan softly at the foreign touch, absolutely embarrassed at the way he easily makes you melt.

In the midst of warmth, you vaguely feel his large hands trail down your body, before they grasp at your hips and—

“There we go,” Matsukawa praises as he flips you so you’re straddling his lap, your crotch right over his—

“I’ve never done this before,” you blurt out in nervousness, because you most definitely feel his growing bulge through the thin layer of your own underwear.

“That’s ok. We don’t have to go that far,” Matsukawa answers instantly, calming your nerves just a little. “I can get energy from giving, too. Not just receiving.”

One of his hands finds its place on the back of your head, tangling with your hair as he looks up at you, wanting, hungry.

“May I?”

A small nod is all you can muster.

“Tell me properly, little hunter,” he whispers, and you feel a hot flush crawl up your neck.

“Yes, I… kiss me, please,” you mumble out quietly, looking away, and he chuckles.

“As you wish.”

The hand behind your head presses down softly, leading you so your lips are just mere centimeters away from his before he closes that distance.

Soft.

His lips are so soft against yours, his warmth enveloping yours and you hold your breath, clumsy, unfamiliar with this dance. If he notices your inexperience, he makes no comment on it, looking up at you with hooded eyes and licking his lips as he leans back.

“Not so bad, right?”

An affirmative hum escapes you as a pleasant feeling tingles along your skin and further down, and the feelings of embarrassment fade away, replaced with your desires for more.

When you open your eyes, you immediately find yourself looking back at red ones, and you watch as his horns appear from the curls of his hair once more. Upon closer look, they're sleek black, equal ridges traveling up to the very tip that curls slightly.

His lips curve into a smirk that makes you feel smaller, but another part of you wants to wipe that smug look off his face so you lean back in, crashing your lips onto his with a sudden feeling of confidence that surges through you.

You jolt from the sudden feeling of his tongue as it teases your own, and you have to prevent every ounce of your demon hunter instincts from biting it as he explores your mouth.

You focus on Matsukawa, his lips, his hair under your fingers, his hands on your waist, his bulge pressing up against your wet sex.

Fuck , his tongue swipes against yours and you falter, leaning forward when he backs away, a satisfied quirk of the lips. His hand trails to cup your cheek, dipping his thumb into your open, waiting mouth, and you swirl your tongue around.

“Ah, I forgot to mention my spit has some…aphrodisiac properties. But you seem to be enjoying it.”

Your head is fuzzy, eyes glazed as a string of saliva connects you with his thumb as he pulls it away from your mouth. You’re too gone to care about your pride, and the pleasant buzz you feel blurs all your morals.

You don’t even realize that you’re moving your hips, grinding against his growing bulge that makes you nervous and…

Excited.

Something flares inside your chest at the realization.

You don’t know how long it lasts, your tongue dancing with his, hands roaming, exploring everything he had to offer you and you for him. It’s dark by the time he finally pulls away, gently tugging you off his lap as a string of saliva connects your lips to his.

“Thank you,” he says your name, making you whimper, leaning forward to chase after his lips. “You’ve done more than enough for me today. I look forward to working with you, little hunter.”

He licks his lips, and with the little reasoning left in your head, you can’t help but realize how you’re absolutely under his spell.

–

The next few days are strange.

Strange in that, you notice Matsukawa more than usual. On occasion, you would see him with Hanamaki as he greets you when lunch period starts, or when he gets out of volleyball practice with everyone.

Although, something changes after that particular day and you see him in passing as you eat lunch with your classmates, when you head to the restroom, or even when you take some papers to the teacher’s office. He’s just always somewhere in your peripheral vision, intentional or not, as if watching over you from a distance.

Hell, you make eye contact with him where he’s seated out in the courtyard with the other boys and you just so happen to look outside for a brief moment while you’re on cleaning duty.

When he smirks up at you with a wink, you feel warmth spread across your cheeks, suddenly reminded of…

All the events of that day rewind in your head within the span of ten seconds and you grip your broom tighter.

That fucking demon.

Your classmates ask what has you so flustered and you can only sigh and rub at your cheeks, hoping to wipe away the brightening red.

You hope they don’t notice how you squeeze your thighs together ever so slightly.

It doesn’t help that as the next few weeks go by, even your childhood friend notices your not-so-subtle change, and unfiltered as he is, he immediately jumps on it.

“So, you and Mattsun, huh?”

“What?”

You raise an eyebrow at his suggestive tone, and he takes it as a sign to continue, waving around his milk carton.

“Don’t pretend– you and him have been talking more, out of the blue too! And he’s not very discrete, I saw him looking at you a few times,” he mock-whispers to you. “Did something happen? Should I be happy? Or maybe even worried?”

“Neither,” you grumble, because Hanamaki most definitely misunderstands the entire situation but you can’t exactly clear it up. “We just started talking ever since we bumped into each other a few days ago. There’s nothing more.”

“Hm.” He’s looking at you with his usual stare, and you don’t even look up from the worksheet. “If you say so. I’m glad you guys are getting along better.”

You look up to meet Hanamaki’s gaze, but from the corner of your eye, you see Matsukawa chatting with some other students in the hallway, locking eyes with you before sending you a knowing smile.

Getting along is one way to put it, that’s for sure.

Just a few hours after that conversation with Hiro, you find yourself pushed up against the wall of the boy’s volleyball club room, moaning softly as he peppers open-mouthed kisses down your neck and grinds his thigh up against your sex.

“Ah–Don’t you dare leave any marks,” you gasp, shamelessly moving your hips for more friction against him.

“Or else what?”

His teasing voice has you throwing your head back, and the trails of his saliva burn deliciously along your neck. Matsukawa’s hands trail up your waist before they cup your tits, squeezing playfully.

You have no retort for him, opting to quiet down – practice is soon, and he has dragged you into the lesser-used clubroom to “recharge.” There’s a chance that anyone from the team could come in, knowing your terrible luck, and the thought makes you both humiliated and excited, to your horror.

“Just a little more,” he mumbles into your skin, and you’re lost in his dance, brain turning to mush as heat overwhelms you. You’re half frustrated as Mattsun refuses to go any further, edging you on and bringing you so close to your peak before pulling away.

He lets you go, letting you stand on your feet before leading you towards one of the plastic chairs, sitting, before tugging on your waist so you sit in his lap, back against his chest.

“What are you—”

“Shh, not too loud,” he whispers, licking at the shell of your ear before nibbling at it, as his hands unbutton your blouse. You don’t even stop him, grasping at his forearms as you feel the fabric of your shirt pull away.

“Open your eyes.”

You don’t even realize you have closed them. You crack open your eyes, as he commands, and you see yourself through the full-length mirror that’s hung near the empty lockers. Your blouse is opened, revealing your bra, and one of his hands is lifting up your skirt, legs spread and revealing the soaked patch through your panties as they rub against his bulge.

“Such a cute little slut, don’t you think?”

Locking your eyes with his through the reflection, you turn red at the sight of his smirk, and when his tongue darts out to lick the shell of your ear, you throw your head further back, shivering under his touch. A hand travels up your torso, and you squirm at the ticklish feeling, before letting out a choked moan as soon as he cups one of your tits, squeezing playfully, before pushing your bra up with his hand. His finger teases your nipple, pinching it gently and eliciting more muffled moans out of your pretty lips.

His hips grind up to match your own movements, and he hums, his hand on your hip trailing down to your clothed sex, rubbing small circles at your clit. It makes your hips jolt, shaking as they try to match his pace and he lets out a chuckle against your ear.

“Wait–I’m–”

“Go ahead, cum.” His low whisper tips you over the edge, heat bursting in your gut as you cum against his fingers. The fuzz of your orgasm fills your brain and you’re boneless against Mattsun, who lifts his fingers to his mouth, and you hear him suck on them.

He sits you down on one of the chairs before he fixes his uniform, and you’re sitting there, dazed, the scent of Matsukawa lingering in your nose, his taste still upon your tongue.

More, more, more.

Matsukawa looks back at you, a satisfied smile on his lips.

“Practice is starting so you won’t have to worry about anyone coming in anytime soon. I’ll meet you after?”

You hum, not trusting your words to come out. He grins, leaning down to peck your lips one last time.

“Good girl.”

A promise is a promise, but you don’t know how you can keep going with his teases.

That fucking demon.

–

For the most part, the doubled power makes your patrols much easier, and you feel better about going out without pushing yourself to the edge. Matsukawa’s powers aren’t the strongest, objectively speaking, but the extra hand and cooperation makes your strength combined something to fear. The areas that you’ve left to simmer and grow are much more maintained, and you’re able to make good progress that even the priest comments on when you visit him occasionally.

Of course, you don’t tell him about your partnership. You’re not sure if it would be received well, and you’re not willing to take that leap.

It continues like this for awhile, and you can finally catch up on sleep, even getting a thumbs-up of approval from Hanamaki when he sees you more lively than usual.

But…

There’s something darker in the air today.

It had been a few weeks since you’d nearly met your end. Most areas have lightened up in terms of activity, but for some reason, you feel a chill in your bones that makes you uneasy all day. Matsukawa must have also felt it, glancing at you with worry in his brow.

It’s overcast, and you smell the incoming rain as you tug on your coat, pulling the hood over your eyes as you walk past some high schoolers heading home. Matsukawa is unbothered, merely looking over and nodding to them as they pass.

Practice was canceled a little earlier than usual, so you decided to take an alternate route that goes a bit further from your usual patrol while it was still evening. Rain begins to fall, splattering on the pavement at your feet, and you sigh annoyed. Mattsun breathes out of his nose, a soft exhale as he looks up to the sky. Suddenly–

He stops, whirling around to face the end of the street you two are crossing.

“Get ready.”

“What?”

Your question is answered too soon.

Something crashes, and you jump in surprise, losing your balance as the ground trembles beneath you. Matsukawa catches you, holding you steady, eyes glued to the particles that center together at the end of the street, forming together into a dark blob and taking shape.

It’s downright ugly and terrifying, exuding such malice and rage that has you stepping back. The demons you’ve dealt with before are absolute small fry compared to his massive size and aura.

“What is that?” you shout over its screeching and Matsukawa grimaces.

“A goliath,” he says, a little too calm in your opinion. “Said to be servants of the underworld, or something. I think they consume other small demons, just for energy.”

It roars, a large arm protruding from its back and you recoil in disgust. It is, by far, the largest demon you’ve encountered up until now, and you have no doubt it’s the strongest.

“Ok, well, what the hell is it doing here?” you yell at Matsukawa, who jumps back at the sudden tremor it emits.

“No idea!” he shouts back at you. “Be careful!”

There’s not much room for you and Matsukawa to fight–the street is narrow, and the beast in front of you nearly takes up the whole width. You keep your distance, making sure you’re not in its reach as you launch a few talismans toward it, maneuvering them so they cover its body. Matsukawa approaches it, launching his own attacks as he weaves between each swing of its ugly limbs.

It’s slower than you imagined, and you think as long as you keep your distance, it should be fine–

Dark static flicks off its skin before it explodes in an instant, shooting uncontrollably before it bursts wildly, covering the ground and traveling towards you.

“Watch out!”

You’re shoved to the ground, watching a strike pierce through Matsukawa, in midair as he jumps right where you were.

“Matsukawa”

You see him go down, blood splattering against the asphalt with a sickening sound as his body hits the pavement, hard. Anger fills you with red, and you cast most of your talismans towards the demon, binding it tightly with your power as it screams. It’s stunned for a moment, disoriented as it recovers, but you take the time to run towards Matsukawa, who’s struggling to get up onto his knees, blood dripping from his torso, washing away on the asphalt with the rain.

“Let’s get you out of the way,” you say hurriedly, throwing his arm over your shoulders and dragging him to an alleyway. “Don’t move, you’ll open your wound up.”

As soon as you set him down, the demon screeches, an ear-piercing sound that makes both of you falter.

Demons aren’t perfect. They’ll die with enough damage, and you do so, dwindling down their health with continued attacks, moving constantly to avoid its electricity.

Left, right, under–jump!

You can barely catch your breath as you dodge its movements, careful of where you end up. A screech erupts from its head, piercing your ears, and you take the moment to send more binding charms, tying its limbs together and buying you time .

It struggles, and just as you’re about to blast it with more of your attacks–

A large burst of energy shoots at him from behind you, slicing the goliath’s head off with a clean schuck!

It thuds to the ground, lifelessly, and you’re gasping for air, falling on your ass as it rolls just a few feet away from you.

Matsukawa is peeking around the corner of the alleyway, leaning against the wall as he sends out that last burst of power before he’s sliding down, falling against the brick wall. Without hesitation, you hurry over to him, nearly tripping over your own unsteady feet as you crouch beside him.

Blood spreads across his clothes, a pool of red that makes your hands shake because it’s just so much blood, demon or not. Your eyes flicker up to his, dull and unfocused as they glance up at you.

You tug up his shirt, trying hard to ignore him flinching out of pain to see a deep gash across his stomach, one that curled around his torso, and you have no doubt it probably pierced through him.

The first thing your mind goes to is—

You smash your lips on his.

You taste copper.

He yelps a little at the sudden force, and you cup his cold cheeks with your hands, kissing him deeply.

There’s not an ounce of shame because you’re saving his goddamn life right now . He’s quick to respond, kissing back and groaning against your lips, and in a few moments, his wound is gradually closing up, his blood-coated skin patching itself together.

When you back away, he winces, looking down at his wound, blood and spit smudged against his lips, and you have no doubt that you look the same.

Shit , you think to yourself, feeling a wave of warmth hit you suddenly. And it’s different today because you just want more for once. Perhaps it’s the adrenaline, perhaps it’s because you almost lost him. You’re tired of constantly being edged by him, when you know he could give you so much more, that you could give him so much more.

“Your place is close, let’s get out of the rain.”

Curse Matsukawa for his height. He easily towers over you, and it makes it ten times harder for you to properly support him as he leans against you, his arm thrown over your shoulders as you weave through back alleys, slowly making your way to his apartment. It doesn’t help that the rain hasn’t let up, drenching both of you.

He’s lost a lot of blood, and you’ve been trying to keep him conscious with little success, as he keeps blinking in and out. By the time you’re at his front door, he’s awake enough to dig through his pockets and give you the key with a shaky hand.

There’s blood on it, and you wipe it away with your thumb as you jam it into the keyhole, quickly twisting and opening the door, stepping into the hallway and navigating to his room.

You kick open his door, feeling your strength falter at the sight of his bed and with one last burst, you unceremoniously drop him on top of his covers. He lets out a grunt and laughs a bit under his breath.

“How romantic,” he chokes out, and he rolls onto his back painfully, groaning as he twists his body, mindful of his healing wound.

“Shut up,” you mutter, taking off your coat and kicking off your shoes, slamming the door closed after a moment. Taking in a breath, you steel yourself before you lean on the bed, one knee first, before you swing your leg over his, straddling his lap.

Without any warning, you lean in, kissing him, grinding your hips down on his. You moan against his mouth and–

“Let’s do it, this time, c’mon,” you moan out impatiently, nipping at Matsukawa’s neck as he grabs your hips, tight enough you’re sure you’ll be bruised by the end of it.

“You sure?” he asks softly, lacking his usual teasing lilt, and you nod.

“I’m sure,” you reassure him, looking him dead in the eye, watching as his horns grow out. “I’m saving your life and I’ve wanted to do this with you for a long time. I think it’s a win for both of us.”

He grins, pained, but absolutely ecstatic, as if he’s won the lottery.

“You’re telling me we could have done this earlier?”

“Stop talking and we can get right to it, you dumbass.”

And you can’t stop the curse that leaves your mouth when he flips you over, trapping you under his arms. He tugs off your shirt and your pants, kissing you before you reach up to return the favor. His torso is red, but there’s no longer open flesh that makes you sigh in relief.

At the sight of you bare to him, he leans back, admiring the view and whistling as his eyes trail down your body.

“Can’t believe I went slow with you when you’ve wanted this too,” he comments, leaning to press kisses against the inside of your thigh before he leaves a long kiss on a spot and bites hard . You yelp at the sudden pain, gripping at his hair as he licks his new mark, thighs trembling as he continues to mark you up.

His fingers reach up, hooking under your panties before—

Rip!

“Hey!”

“I’ll buy you new ones,” he says, uninterested, eyes locked onto your cunt instead. “You’re so fucking wet—and all for me.”

He swipes a finger up your leaking pussy, earning a yelp from you and he brings it to his lips, sucking on it

“Sweet,” he whispers. “Didn’t think you’d taste so good, and it’s all mine .” He leans down, spitting on your cunt before licking a long stripe at your folds as you keen, your hands once again finding purchase in his wet hair, tugging at his curls as he makes a mess of you. Your back arches as his tongue flicks at your clit, swirling around it before thrusting in, wanting to taste all of you. His fingers make their way beside their tongue, and he’s pleasantly surprised with how you take one, two fingers, then three as you sing so beautifully.

Your eyes are glazed over, purely lost in pleasure and everything is so hot and you just want his cock so bad and—

It’s coming it’s coming I’m coming—

“Issei!”

The cry of his name makes him smile against you, as you're suddenly hit with a mind-numbing orgasm, back arching and body trembling against his mouth as he continues to coax more you have to offer him. Coming down from your high, you’re far from satiated, still feeling the wanting burn deep in your gut.

You don’t notice him taking off the rest of his clothes until you feel him press up against you. He pushes up your legs, your thighs pressing against your stomach as he leans close and folds you to his will.

He’s huge, you realize, and you’re not sure if he’ll fit, feeling its weight as the head of his cock kisses your pussy. You jerk at the feeling of him rubbing his length against your wet folds, his eyes trained on the way his cock glistens against your wet cunt, slapping it once, twice against it.

As if reading your mind, he offers a reassuring smile, squeezing your thigh.

“Tell me if you need me to go slower,” he says. “Last thing I want to do is hurt you.”

You nod deliriously, moving your hips and rubbing against his length, urging him to hurry up. He finally obliges, pushing in slowly, and you let out a broken moan, clawing at his arms as he groans, sinking into your heat inch by inch.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he grunts, and he listens to your breathing, waiting for any indication of pain before he keeps going until he bottoms out, hips flush against your ass.

You’re just big, you want to retort, but you can’t even form words, choking on your spit as you feel so full, turning lightheaded at the feeling of his cock stretching you out wide. He’s holding back, biting his lip and a furrow in his brow as he lets you adjust, barely able to control himself.

He’s careful, his calculating gaze roaming over your face as you focus on leveling your breathing, letting yourself relax before–

“Issei,” you moan, “Move, move. ”

He wastes no time, starting slow and experimentally he moves his hips, pulling out of you until the tip of his cock is inside you before he snaps his hips, making you scream as he buries himself to the hilt once more. The bed frame creaks with each thrust, and you whimper, his cock reaching depths that even you weren’t aware of, your walls fluttering around him.

You chant his name, lost in pleasure and Issei knows you’re long gone, completely undone by his cock and his punishing rhythm. He shifts, leaning down to swallow up your moans, tasting you, relishing in your sweet, sweet flavor as you cross your legs behind his back, bringing him closer, deeper inside.

“Let me cum in you,” he grunts out, not slowing down as his dark eyes stare at you and you feel as if he’ll devour you. “Make a contract with me, I’ll be yours, little hunter, just say the word, and I’ll give you my all.”

“Please!” You cry out, nails digging into his back as you hold on for dear life. “Cum inside, I’m yours, I’m yours—“

Your words flow out of you as the knot in your stomach builds quicker as Issei’s unrelenting pace seemingly gets faster and faster.

“Issei, ‘sei, please, please more—faster!”

“Fuck!” he curses, feeling you tighten up around him. “Gonna cum inside your pretty fucking pussy—”

He pushes as far as he can inside you before he stills, moaning against your shoulder as you feel yourself reach your peak, clenching around his cock.

Something warm burns in your abdomen, and you look down dazedly, seeing Issei’s cock buried deep inside you and a strange symbol etched on your skin, just below your belly button. Your hazy mind barely registers the shape, feeling it tingle along your skin.

You feel yourself twitch as he pulls out, a small moan escaping you as you feel his cum leak out of you. He collapses beside you, absolutely spent, and you turn to look at him, brushing a hand through his messy hair.

“Are you ok?”

“Now I am. Thank you, master .”

“Wha– What do you mean?” you ask, flustered, and he laughs, grabbing your hand against his cheek and squeezing it before he trails down to your stomach. His thumb brushes over the mark, and he opens his mouth, sticking out his tongue for you and the same mark is drawn on it.

A contract.

“I’m your familiar now. So, please, treat me well,” he says your name, voice deep with want. The coil in your gut tightens, and you meet his red-eyed gaze. His lips meet yours, and you yelp when his fingers find your tit, pinching lightly. “I’ll treat you well, too.”

#haikyuu #hq #haikyuu reader #matsukawa issei #matsukawa issei reader #matsukawa issei imagine #haikyuu imagine #kinktober #haikyuu smut #smut #yuyukinktober

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loveephia · 1 year

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

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

+ shiratorizawa ver. | fukurodani ver.

⚠ warning/s: none.

-🧍‍♀️

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

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

- maybe maddog didn't like you very much.

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

- you'll grow on him one day!!

- sadly, that day is just not today. 😔

- oikawa thought you were a fan of his

- which is not true

- like.

- at all.

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

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

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

- but like

- NO.

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

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

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

- NO BC SERIOUSLY WHAT IS THIS

- bro's rizz came right outta aot 😭😭😭

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

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

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

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

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

- and iwaizumi

- wow, where do you even start

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

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

- you do not hide your liking towards iwaizumi.

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

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

- "very aware."

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

- YOU'RE JUST. THAT. PRETTY. 😭😭

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

- "..thanks, y/n."

- "you're welcome, iwa!"

- PARDON??

- WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL HIM.

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

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

- ok

- wgat ☺️

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

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

- "deal." matsukawa accepts

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

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

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atsumwah · 8 months

Text

too pretty!

featuring : matsukawa issei the loml <3

notes : you're jealous your bf is too pretty

you're aware that your friends are very attractive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"i know. i'm ruining it."

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

"you'll go out like this then."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"maybe just a tad bit."

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

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

"once or twice?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"they don't!"

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

"oh my god, you're serious."

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

"i do not turn to mush."

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

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

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

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

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

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

#—drabbles.#matsukawa fluff #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa headcanons #matsukawa issei #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #matsukawa x y/n #haikyuu matsukawa #hq matsukawa #issei matsukawa #hq scenarios #hq headcanons #hq imagines #matsukawa imagines

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cottonlemonade · 29 days

Text

500 yen

warnings: Seijoh 4

____________________________________________

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

“Oh, pretty.”, Makki said.

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

Makki inspected his hands. “Not a chance.”

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

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

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

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

“Yup.”

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

The other two looked at him.

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

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

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

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

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

Iwaizumi grinned, never having doubted his friend.

____________________________________________

✨ @starrbright ✨ 🫰🏻

#matsukawa issei x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #chubby reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu drabbles #mattsun x chubby reader #matsukawa x chubby reader #issei x chubby reader #matsukawa issei x reader #haikyuu matsukawa #hq matsukawa #matsukawa issei #haikyuu imagines #seijoh four

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shojoisms · 1 year

Text

— [♡] 21:55 with Matsukawa.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He merely groans in response, unfazed by your actions.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#haikyuu smut #hq smut #haikyuu imagines #matsukawa issei x reader #haikyu x reader smut #matsukawa x reader #Matsukawa smut #Mattsun smut #hq x reader smut #hq drabbles #matsukawa issei x you #perhaps I shall make my formatting for posts look better too..#hmm..

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moechies · 5 months

Text

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it makes him grin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“s so sweet issei nii!”

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu #haikyuu oikawa #haikyu x reader #haikyu smut #matsukawa issei #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa smut #hq #hq x reader #hq smut #hq x you #hq imagines #hq matsukawa #mattsun #haikyuu matsukawa #matsukawa x you #drabbles ⋆⑅˚₊

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hxltic · 1 year

Text

I’M SORRY. MASTUKAWA ISSEI

• 200 FOLLOWERS!! 😻😻😻

• Genre: smut

• Warnings: female reader, college, slight angst at first, overstimulation, rough counter sex, choking, hair pulling, degradation, daddy kink, cunnilingus, pretty long but please don’t let it scare you off lol

-I just love comfort roommate Mattsun

You slept horribly. You thank the universe your classes had mercy. Though you still called into work, unfortunately, and even more to your demise— there was a huge sale that made folding restock clothes a pain.

Slumping through the door, getting your shower in, and throwing on the first shirt you found from the laundry room was very efficient until you got into bed.

You lay there.

Comfortably uncomfortable.

You were hot, but taking the covers off wasn’t an option. You felt every fiber or hair against your body. Your feet were cold. A growling noise erupted from your stomach.

Angrily, the covers are thrown off, where you stomp your way to the kitchen while dismissing the new breeze of air brushing your skin. No jacket, in shorts, waltzing around the apartment scavenging for food. You wish the feeling of the air conditioning didn’t bother you as much as the sound did, because it printed an obvious sign of irritation on your face.

Then the fire alarm beeped.

Taking a deep breath, you begrudgingly conclude yourself unsuccessful in finding something to nibble on. When you turn around, the corner of the kitchen table seemed to stick out more than usual.

Lo and behold it hit the corner of your already cold foot. You drop to your elbows on the counter in annoyance where hold your head, tugging probably unhealthily at your eyes from stress, trying your best not to fall to the ground and cry.

You immediately removed even the thought of tears when the door sounded.

“Honey I’m home.” Mattsun closes the door behind him.

He just got back from afternoon classes with only a handful of groceries. Your roommate started the “I’m home” thing as a joke, yet it carried farther than that as time went on. You correct yourself and try to help with the groceries at least a little bit, picking up what you could find in the bags and placing them in their correct spot.

Mattsun could obviously tell something was off the second he walked in. He watched you stutter and quickly regather yourself even though it looked as if you were on the verge of tears. He would’ve asked why by now, if he didn’t know that you probably didn’t know yourself. He was right. You didn’t.

Hard days never got to you, but as the homework piled up with your micromanaging boss, it went straight to the mini notepad in your brain listing all you had to do. It was fine until you had to flip to the next page, then the ink started getting all runny. You aren’t sure what caused it; but it happened. You held the milk mindlessly in your hand.

Mattsun scooted behind you towards the refrigerator. You were in the area between the island and the main counter, causing his front to press up against you innocently, an angered grunt dropping from your lips.

“Could you not go around?” You turn to him swiftly, your palm facing upwards to emphasize your feelings.

“Didn’t really think it mattered. You calling me fat?” He opened the refrigerator door. Usually you’d laugh, but it only turned your brows farther inwards.

“Yeah, it does. Go the other fucking way.” You spat. With the roll of your eyes, you slid the milk into the already opened fridge. You stepped back so that Matsukawa could close it, hand already on the handle—but when nothing happened, you turned around to see the tall male staring at you in disbelief. He literally just got home.

“…What?”

“The hell is up with you?” He asks regularly.

“Nothing,” you shrug and brush it off, “it was just unnecessary.”

“Well it’s clearly something,” he retaliates, “I’ve been practically crucified the ten seconds I’ve been here.” He closes the door and laughs humorlessly to himself.

“Whatever. It’s nothing.”

He starts, “Really? The-“

“God-it’s nothing! It’s nothing.”

The aggressive hand motions come back, then you finally take about four different things from the second-to-last bag and put them up hastily, even in your tired state.

He observes you from the counter with every step you take and every heavy breath you let in. Like you’re fighting an entire war with yourself.

It finally clicked in his mind: he said the wrong things in the wrong moment, and it wasn’t what you needed right now. He just wished he would’ve noticed sooner.

“Hey, my bad—I’m sorry. Should’ve went around.”

His voice wasn’t careless now, but soft. You heard him but just moved on to the last bag. Before you can pull something out, he takes it and tells you that you can go lay down. Better yet, that he’d handle everything else.

“It’s fine, I can do it.” You reach again and he pulls it away. “Give it.” The quicker you are, quicker he is.

You sigh and pull back. You wanted to slap the shit out of him but he wouldn’t budge.

“Do you always have to be like this?”

He cocks his head to the side. He was curious. It could tell how you actually feel about him, the kind of things you don’t tell people to their face.

“Like what?”

“Aggravatingly annoying,” you blatantly answered.

His expression changed for a second. He refuses to get louder, only talking in a low volume, casual tone.

“That I am.”

“Why can’t you just come in and go to your room to study or something?”

“I will next time.”

“Why do you always have to be by me?”

Hm…

Accepting it and having it your way he felt was the best thing to do. He’s been called annoying before, even irritating due to his constant teasing. But hearing it from you—really the main one he talks to that isn’t Makki— hurt a bit. You saw his eyes widen for a slight half a second more before reverting to his usual apathetic face.

He knew you didn’t mean it. He knew you were overstimulated. Giving in to you and whatever you said was what you needed, not someone to fight you on things. Yeah it fucking hurt; however, you were speaking out of temporary emotion rather than logic or feelings, so if not stressing you out in this way was what he’d have to do, he’d do it.

The truth was: you really couldn’t stand being by him. Hearing him walk in while you read in your bed, then casually throw his things to the wall and flop down at your feet. Or when you would come in later and he’d be sat criss cross on the couch, a spot waiting for you right next to him. You couldn’t decipher if these were regular friendly activities or not and it swam through your mind all throughout the day.

Was it just his personality? Did it mean anything to him? Were you being dramatic? All the hugs, the studying, the dinner nights. Were those dates? Did they have the same effect on him that they had on you? Were they even on purpose?

The silence was deafening and palpable, the gaze he held intimidatingly normal. Didn’t you just yell at him? How is he so calm? You had come back to your senses, staring up at his non-changing face, ready to say something.

“I-“

“Do I need any reason more than I want to be?” He utters first delicately.

There wasn’t a hint of negative energy. It made you sad, just how much he’d do for you. You actually almost wish he would’ve gotten mad.

He’s never once yelled at you, called you out for dumb things like breaking a glass bowl, or not being taught some things around the house. You just let out an entire day’s worth of anger onto him and said something that was nowhere close to what you feel. You even used him as a placeholder for what you wish you could say to your boss. He is always so, so good to you.

He watches as your eyes suddenly get tighter and your eyebrows inch upwards. You’ve done nothing but look at him, yet the mere thought of what you said and what he’s actually done forces you to drop your head slowly and take a few steps forward into his chest. Droplets fall silently to the tiled floor.

His arms softly found their way around you.

“I’m sorry.” You mumble.

“You’re okay.”

He hugs you back, progressively getting softer with every passing minute. Not “It’s okay,” “You’re okay.” Sometime later, you pull back with a deep breath, and you send a tight lip smile to him. Then while he puts away the discarded item (that was previously fought over), you hop up on the island counter.

“Okay. I’m better now.”

“Good.” He closes the fridge. Your legs sway back and forth. You’ll try to explain what happened, even if you know it won’t justify the outbursts directed at him.

“Hey I didn’t mean it.”

“I kno-“

“No, no, wait.” You interrupt.

Dark eyebrows raise and his arms cross as he leans back against the counter in front of you to listen. He nods, telling you to go on.

“I’m so stressed. I just had a really, really bad day and put you at the end of it. I do really enjoy your company—I promise—It’s just…it’s just I don’t really-”

You think for a moment and sigh before your head drops into your palms again. It was because your mind was racing to find the words. Do you tell him? Would it count as a confession?

“I don’t even know anymore. Do you ever…um…”

“Take your time.” He sits patiently.

Damn, did you have to trip over your own words now?

“…What do the dates that you plan usually look like?”

He seemed lost in thought for a second, prior to returning towards the sight of you nervously twiddling your fingers. He noticed the emphasis on the word ‘plan,’ as if you were trying to differentiate between real dates from him and whatever the hangouts you two had were. Saving you the trouble, he’d just tell you.

“I like you.”

…huh?

The sudden confession makes your eyes almost pop out of your head. That was not the answer you were expecting, but not the answer you didn’t want.

“What?” You whisper. You did hear that correctly, right?

He goes on to elaborate with a sigh and a shrug.

“Listen, I’ve been through a million different of these confessions and I don’t want that delay with you. I like you a lot, period.”

It was a while back ago when Mattsun decided he’d focus on you alone. He cleared his phone, and (which you noticed) somewhat cleared his defiled reputation of past debauchery. Many older women have came up to him asking if he actually would pursue during his libertine phase, to which he’d respond no, so he has experienced almost every subtle confession ever made. It was like déja vu.

Wide-eyed you sit. That was a lot easier than you expected; you were worrying all for nothing. The bearing weight that had you in a hold was finally lifted.

“So all of those were-“

“Yes. I haven’t done that with anyone else and I prefer to keep it that way.”

Your heart probably jumps in your chest and your eyes light up. A wide smile inches its way onto your face, and it almost dies down when you remember what you did, but he brings it back with a light, mature smile of his own. After all this time he actually was crushing on you like you were him. You never, ever could deny the way you were eager to see him once he would return from his classes and crash the night with you.

Speaking of crash, a sudden returning wave of exhaustion brushes your body. You ignore it though. There are better things.

“Well, that’s somehow where I was going; I like you a lot too. But if I actually asked you would you say yes? I know how-”

“That depends. Does it come with a ring?”

You stop and your dimples start to show as a smile crawls onto your face, again, “Um…no?“

“Then I object.”

He uncrosses his arms and walks unhurriedly between your legs. He was so content, large hands brushing up your thigh from the knee.

“Yes, I would,” he admits delightedly whilst gingerly coming closer in the face, “the ring comes later though.” He’d whisper a breath away from your lips. You’d wondered how you could be so lucky, the confession not even falling from your sheepish mouth, and still end up with the same outcome. When his eyes go from yours to the plump of your mouth; So, so ready to feel him on you, your eyes close and anticipate him.

Nothing happens. Once your eyes open and he stands there mockingly with the trademark grin (still only hovering an inch away from your nose), if you didn’t know any better you would’ve shoved him away and hopped off the counter to your room for playing with your feelings. But Mattsun was just being Mattsun. First he laughs genuinely at how gullible you are. Then, his trail of sight goes back to your lips unashamedly once more with a dimple-showcasing smirk. He slowly pushes a falling strand of hair away, and slightly turns his head to melt into you with a hand on your cheek sweetly.

You could feel the free smile that was on his lips as he kissed you. It was cute. The kind of things you see in movies at little coffee shops riding along the street. It was unlike him, an unfamiliar feeling this was—like sunlight rather than a rainy or cloudy day. It sounds stupid, but Matsukawa is always slow moving and effective. Watching tv with your legs kicked up or tucked in a blanket as the pitter-patter of the rain decided the kismet of your day. The lambent lighting of the morning making it significantly darker than it usually is with the blinds open.

He caught you before you were too far gone by groaning happily. Throughout it, the entirety of your mind was buzzed by the way your lips gracefully slow danced against his on the counter of your shared apartment. It felt so good seeing him just utterly happy, especially with you. Warm and steady like molasses in January. His fingers eventually connected in the small of your back. You were still tired so his energy was just as lazy as your own; like when your hands floated around his neck and feathered through his hair.

He did it as if it had been years since he was kissed. Yearning for absolutely any ounce of touch from someone. He was accidentally pushing into you, needing to be closer, your arch slowly getting deeper.

The second he pulled away for necessary air, he caught the crevices of your thighs and pulled you with him. Now that the hard part was done he’d give you the full experience.

“What are you doing?”

“Relieving stress.”

He pushes a leg up and over his own shoulder. His hands are placed directly atop your abdomen to apply light pressure as he kisses away the nerves from the main fat of your body gently. Remember all that cute stuff? Yeah, it just diminished the second he decided to eat you out on the marble counter.

You’re not very sure how it led to something like this, something like him pulling your shorts and panties off together. Once there, his mouth felt great against your clit, mainly when he’d stop and suck right between. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t dreamt of this from someone before because the form of the pink muscle inside you is unmistakable. So unmistakable even, that the feeling of the slurp that makes you squirm seemingly flows through your veins to your head like blood.

When Mattsun eats you out, he does it with precision. He knows where he wants to go and how he’ll get there. Compared to others he wasn’t as messy, but maybe that comes from the fact he’d prefer his fingers working inside of you. He’d love to watch your face contort on nothing but his hand because he knows it’s a favorited body part of his. He knows you’d love it. But, he will cup his mouth over you and give the same effect nonetheless.

And you loved that about him. He was careless, not nonchalant.

He was clingy, but independent.

He had morals, just not enough to get boring like when he jumped in the ball case in the store.

He was extremely opinionated, (especially when you asked him small questions like if he liked a shirt) but he also doesn’t care enough to convince you out of something you liked.

He’s hot, but also couldn’t care less about his appearance at times.

He was a walking juxtaposition.

And usually, when you’re alone, the relaxation of your mind helps you get off faster. This was the case, and going over his traits and features was clearly working well because now only your upper back was on the counter and anything below that point was lifted with his large hands. Both legs were in his possession. Your breaths were heavy and when your waist moves on him, his shoulders follow his head. Your own head moves to each side, but he doesn’t seem to care, this was incidental when he was holding your hips close to him so your wetness spread right under his nose. He was feeding off you since there was nowhere to run.

He’d tell you to sit still a bit but he likes the challenge. He likes watching your waist go back and forth as your pussy basically cries his name, and he would print his initials in hickeys on you if that’s what it called for. Others call it sadistic, he calls it motivation.

He could literally take both hands off of you and still be upright—the only reason he didn’t was because you’d probably make yourself fall. Though he did get close, a hand coming right up through your shirt to massage your breast. You unconsciously crossed your legs behind his neck in reaction. Damn, he was good.

He groans through you, and you wish you could watch but holding yourself together was a ground-breaking job. He hit each spot perfectly with complete control of his tongue and your shoulders were starting to hurt from bearing your own body weight.

His height made this fairly difficult but nothing he couldn’t handle—having to crouch in front of a pretty girl was the last of his worries. With your thighs covering his ears and temple, he sucked away. He was honestly glad he did this now rather than later, knowing you, you probably would’ve refused clamping on his head so you wouldn’t crush him or something like that. Mattsun believed his breath regulation was pretty okay considering he almost even got into swimming, but if by slim chance he did die he believed suffocating like this was preferred.

His tongue was literally inside of you. The only thing preventing your brain from fuzzing and your head from throwing back was there would be nothing left on the counter to hold your weight.

Once your heavy breathing developed to jagged and your heavyset eyes started to close, he set you back down gracefully. He heard your pleas but held out for as long as he could. Many “Mattsun please’s“ and “Mattsun I’s” later, he would finally relieve you; He knew his girl could do it.

He spent the last portion of your orgasm fulfilling his own desires and working you from the inside. He moved positions to rest on his left elbow and lean over your face, staring into your eyes, brows upturned and a smile showing. Was it a pity smile? Maybe, but it was for sure the face of amusement as you break down beneath him.

“H-holy shit…‘Sei- s’right there,” you declared.

“Huh? What is?”

A very implying whine followed. Matsukawa scooped his arm under your head like a pillow, his left hand turning your chin to face him. He loved that face. That pretty face only dusted with fatigue and sadness but smothered in want. That same face he’ll get to see whenever he looks down. Huh. Maybe he was a little sadistic.

Your body scrunched and your knees came up in ecstasy.

“Talk to me,” he says, but you barely could keep your eyes open the way he was avoiding the spot on purpose. You wondered how he did it, already having learned your body and how you reacted so well in such a short time. You were so close already and he was gonna ruin it, even though you’d probably still find a way to cum anyway.

You tried your best to muster up something and prayed he’d take it.

“Faster,” you ordered. No response. Actually instead of doing what you said, he pulled them out, assumingely because of the sudden attitude. You immediately went to apologize. He was actively in charge of your body, after all.

You verbally groan in annoyance, to where you hear a responding muffled giggle, so you open your eyes to see what happened.

You meet a view of his smiling jawline, looking down past the counter. His hand was still beneath your chin, almost as if he was protecting you from being uncomfortable, but his teeth held his shirt up as he used whatever was left on his fingers to jerk himself off. This was the disruption in question.

He didn’t mean to basically abandon you, but undoing the jawstring and letting himself free seemed like it would benefit everyone. And he was big. You’d seen big, but he was big all the way around.

You watched in awe as his fingers left a shine of gloss behind when they reached the reddening tip from the bottom.

He threw his head back and groaned in relief, finally being reminded what it felt like to be touched with someone else’s presence.

“Sorry, couldn’t resist.”

With a look to your impatient, shocked eyes, he knew you wanted it. Needed it almost.

He pressed off the counter with his elbow but left his hand under your head. Such a gentleman. Lifting both legs up, with a hand stretched under your knees like a baby, he spoke to you.

“You want it?” He’d ask. You’d nod aggressively, to where he’d ask again. “You gotta tell me.”

“Yes, I do.” You pleaded. Of course your head rolled slightly on his hand to see his face around your legs.

“Alright. Tell me when you wanna stop. Safeword is green.”

You’d never once said a safeword during sex and you doubt you’d use it now. Plus, Issei wouldn’t hurt you.

Intentionally.

You felt him pull your legs apart and hold them where they were previously scrunched up at your breasts. Finally, he rubbed you one last time, before the tip slowly started to diminish inside of you.

It’s amazing how the body makes fluid for moments like these. It’s also amazing how wet Mattsun got you so it’d hurt ten times less.

When he stopped moving about halfway there, he hung over your body almost menacingly; his silhouette breathing deeply and whatever necklace he had on from the day dangling. Your face contorted at the intrusion and your eyes unexpectedly swelled, making you lachrymose. It definitely could’ve been worse, but fuck he was big.

The ravenette slipped his shirt off and your head slid off his hand painlessly, the overwhelming heat from everywhere flowing to his brain. He almost couldn’t take it. You were so wet but so fucking tight at the same time, he couldn’t even bring himself to keep going. He bent over to meet you with a kiss on the jaw and his hand found your own so you could squeeze it as he went on. He buried his face in your neck.

“O-okay, you can move now,” you managed.

No response.

“Issei?” You pushed his hair aside with the hand that wasn’t in his so you could see him. His eyes were closed and his breathing was seeking stabilization through his mouth.

“Fucking just- gimme a second. Please.”

You knew it was pure desire and he was trying his best not to hurt you. He would promise ‘til death that he tried to stop, to take it slow, but it was irresistible the second you giggled at his current state (that you caused) and your stomach contracted with him inside. He immediately pushed forward so that he was balls deep into the fluttering feeling.

“Matts—”

The sudden squeeze on his hand could cut off circulation and the grunt that emitted from his body over and over as he continued to do it couldn’t be missed. At this point it didn’t even hurt anymore, but the previously denied orgasm returned full force.

Mattsun, of course, would apologize later; but it wasn’t later yet. He finally lifted himself off you and gathered your legs once more so your ankles were at his ears, trying to feel more of the ribbed walls on either side. Your mouth fell open at the spot.

“Ha-hohfuck ‘m gonna cum.” You whispered.

“Mhmm? Let me feel it baby,” He leaned over again, almost testing your flexibility, running a hand along your cheek and swiping away a single tear that dropped from earlier while his forehead was against yours. Now that he knew how far you could go, he’d have a lot of fun with the positions he’d put you in.

“Fuck, fuck-!” You’d find him through your lashes so he could kiss you, the never ending thrusts seemingly reaching your belly button. He loved sucking on those pretty lips of yours.

He only let out a laugh of satisfaction as you stilled and stiffened around him, your arms roaming his back and head turning away. He continued to thrust downward, never letting up speed, causing you to writhe underneath him with every curl of his hips. He did eventually pull away and extend his arms though. It was for a nice view of your body.

His length slipping in and out as a white ring forms that’ll signify how many times he’s made you cum; your breasts through the shirt following your body back and forth; the already fucked out face you wield accompanied with a yawn—it was all so much, he almost couldn’t look anymore. In fact, he won’t.

He grabbed you and pulled you further down the marble so you could roll over, your wriggling body basically halfway there. Up you go by your hair, that flexibility coming in to play a second time while he fucked you. When you moaned at the tug, he wouldn’t be Mattsun if he didn’t tease you for it.

“Wow, who would’ve guessed. You like when I pull your hair?”

“Yes daddy,” you respond. It was almost instantaneous. You wished you could’ve said you meant to do it, but it was honestly an accident.

His thrusts slightly change, you wish you could say how. He dropped your head forcefully, took both of your wrists behind your back, and pulled you up by your throat. Your neck was strained trying to face him but you couldn’t help it, you had to listen when he was talking to you. He was amused, to say the least—especially when you stopped listening because of the way he was barely brushing that sweet nerve.

“That’s a filthy mouth of yours. Who knew you were such a slut?” He’d grin into your ear. “Mgh- since you’ve gotten so good at it, why don’t you tell daddy what you want?”

As long as you’ve known him, he’s made you say things you wouldn’t have even thought of saying prior. But right now? You couldn’t care less.

“Mmm,” you whimper, “h-harder daddy.”

You’re not sure how he unscrambled what you said with his hand restricting your throat and the other intermittent babble coming out of your mouth, but if anyone could, it was him. Mattsun was defiant and dominant, but when it came to your genuine pleasure, he’d gratify.

Teasing aside obviously.

With the slightest bend of his knees, he angled himself and thrusted farther upwards. Did you doubt he would remember where you’re g-spot was? You were choking up more than you already were and his name slipped off your tongue as if it were a veneration statement of butter. Your ass sounded throughout the apartment, the skin-on-skin contact loud enough for the neighbors to hear. The force was turning it red and Matsukawa loved it. He loved when the pussy talked back too.

In fact, you could tell, because he was gradually speeding up and his thrusts were slowly becoming sporadic.

“Oh shit-I’mmna-” You started.

“Come on it. Come on this dick so you can tell everyone you did it twice.”

“Mhmm.”

“You can tell all your little friends you’re mine and I’m yours.”

“Yes daddy…”

“Come so you find all the women I’ve ever talked to and tell them you’re the only one I want.”

With that, your eyebrows leveled out and your eyes shut while trying to process the sex drive and sweet believable words at the same time. Your body held onto Mattsun for dear life, to where he let go of your throat and held you close on the fall back down to your elbows. You were exhausted, but that grip your pussy still had on him was deadly. Deadly enough for him to slightly question whether you’d be a bad mom or not.

He obviously chose against it and sighed along your back while you came before pulling out. You turned around and crouched knowingly with whatever strength was left, then watched him jerk himself off above you. After you decided to take matters into your own hands (literally), he held himself up with his support on the counter. His head hanging over you while you stroked the other was a sight to remember.

With a final hiss, white decorated your face like a picture.

“Holy fuck,” his head faced the ceiling as he ran a hand over his face. The view he was met with when he came back down was insane, your hand curved behind his thigh and the other milking him dry of whatever was left. With a single bud of cum remaining, you licked your lips and smiled weakly.

What the hell would he do with you?

©hxltic

#haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyuu headcanons #haikyu x reader #haikyuu smut #god i want him so bad #matsukawa x y/n #mattsun imagines #mattsun smut #mattsun #mattsun <3 #hq matsukawa #matsukawa issei #haikyuu hcs #issei smut

1K notes · View notes

etherrreal · 1 year

Text

“spare me the details”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, so you think I’m charming?”

“I’m walking away now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, how’d you meet this guy again?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In my defense, I was being chased–”

“By what, her six pound toy poodle?”

“Whatever. That’s not my point.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey.”

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

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

“Don’t go.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know why.”

“No, actually, I don’t–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know what I said!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So he does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Issei, I–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Written by: Dawn

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

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makkir0ll · 1 month

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summer heat

(reader x mattsun)

959 words

{a/n: I did in fact finish writing this at 12 am. So excuse any grammar and mistakes. But this in fact my first ever piece I'm publishing here. So if you have any sort of constructive criticism please tell me (kindly though) anyways enjoy}

it was mid-summer, and its that point of the month where the temperatures were at their all time highs, and the fact that your air conditioning broke didn't make it any better.

it's late at night, you and your boyfriend mattsun couldn't sleep comfortably. The humidity and heat mixing which made your sheets stick to your sweaty body in discomfort.

the two of you had made your way to the living room couch. The room is dim with only the fairy lights you hung in your apartment giving it a comforting glow, and the light of the television playing your favorite show shines on your faces. The windows are open to let the cool night breeze in along with the fans spinning at the highest speeds in attempts to cool the both of you down. You and mattsun lay on opposite ends of the couch, not being able to sit close to each other without being uncomfortable, but your legs meet in the middle, tangled with each other.

"Its so hot" you groan in annoyance. Mattsun glances over at you, wishing he could do something. Anything. To put the two of you out of this misery.

"I know baby, tomorrow we'll call the landlord again and I'll make sure he fixes it. And if not, we can crash at Makki's" he responds in a sweet tone, putting his hand over your shin to comfort you. You smile at the gesture.

He feels the weight of the couch shift, he glances over at you get up and walk to the fridge. You open the freezer and grab two ice cubes, you turn back around to face him with a grin on your face. He smiles dearly at you as he watches you walk towards him, handing him the cube. He puts the cold cube on his body, the cool touch soothing him. You move his legs aside as you rub your ice cube all over your neck. You sigh at the feeling.

In that moment, mattsun can't seem to get his eyes off you. You look so beautiful to him at that moment. Your hair tied back in a bun with your front layers clipped back. You're wearing a sports bra and the shorts you've had since high school. You're wearing your glasses, that you only wear at home or when you're too lazy to put in your contacts. He wishes you always wore your glasses.

"What are you staring at? Do I have something on my face?" you question, looking at him, and putting your fingers around your mouth. Maybe some of your dinner had missed your mouth. He shakes his head no, and you turn your head back at the tv.

Suddenly he feels like this moment right here, this is it. Sitting on your couch as your favorite tv show plays in front of the two of you. He reaches his hand into the pocket of his shorts and he feels the small velvet box he'd been carrying around with him everywhere since after your one month anniversary.

Now he sits here, next to you, two years later on the couch the two of you bought when you first moved in after a year. His stomach is doing flips, he can't believe what he's about to do, but he knows that this is what he wants for the rest of his life. He's known since the moment he laid eyes on you.

"Will you marry me?"

"What?!" you say in shock, whipping your head to his direction. All your focus is on him.

"Will you marry me?" he asks again. His stomach churns, he feels butterflies in his stomach, his heart is beating faster than imaginable, and he starts sweating. Not because of the heat this time. He moves down to the ground and gets on one knee, pulling the box out his pocket, opening it to reveal the ring.

"Y/N, for as long as we've been dating that I was going to marry you. Fuck, since the moment I laid my eyes on you I knew. I-"

"Yes." you cut him off

"What?!"

"Yes. YES. YES! A MILLION TIMES YES! I'LL MARRY YOU!" You yell as you jump onto him. You have a couple of happy tears streaming down your face as you and mattsun lie on the floor of your apartment, bodies tangle with each other.

He shifts his weight so that you straddle his lap now. You cup his face, leaning in to give him a kiss. "I'll marry you any day" You say between kisses. He smiles and pulls you impossibly closer to him. He pulls away and grabs your left hand, sliding the ring onto your ring finger. It fits perfectly. Its in the metal you always wear, something he noticed immediately. It has a small diamond in the middle, nothing too fancy. You look at it in awe.

"I know its not much, but it's all I could afford at the moment." He looks at you, rubbing small circles on your hip.

"It's perfect." you say softly. Looking back at him. "It's everything and more. I love you"

"I love you too." He puts his hands behind your neck, pulling you into a kiss. You gladly kiss him bacl. It's soft, its intimate...

Its....cold?

You both feel a gush of cool air blow against your bodies. You break the kiss and stare in disbelief and turn to your air conditioner, seeing it had turned on. You giggle at the coincidence of the timing, and you guys go back to what you were doing before.

Its still late at night. You and your fiancé mattsun lay in bed sleeping comfortably in each others arms with a feeling of love in the air.

#haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#mattsun #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa fluff #mattsun x reader #mattsun fluff #matsukawa issei #seijoh #hq imagines #hq fluff #hq x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines

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sugamii · 1 year

Text

he was wrapped around your finger. and it had taken months for you to understand just how true that statement was. seeing the way his eyes lit up as you leaned in to kiss him, only for the look to drop from his face when you moved to kiss him on the cheek instead. you would be death of him, he was sure.

you'd been best friends for so long that it felt natural to be with him like this. it didn't bother you as much as you thought it might, finally realizing that he had been in love with you that entire time. because, even as he fell for you, all he had ever wanted was to be near you. to see that you were happy, that someone was taking care of you.

it finally clicks as you watch his face after your "rejection." he's pouting down at you now, you can tell that he's not really upset as he's struggling to keep himself from smiling. how could he be upset looking down at your face and seeing the laughter in your eyes? you're making it difficult to stay annoyed - even if it was fake.

"you're always so mean to me. three years of waiting and this is how i'm treated?" he's still frowning, but it's far too droopy to be real. he never had been subtle with his facial expressions, it was one of the many things you loved about him.

you pat his cheek with your free hand, the other one still being held by him. "but don't you just love it?" is your reply, trying to keep the smile out of your voice while looking into his not-so-sad eyes. the best part of all of this is watching him cave and give up on his act.

"i do," he says with a smile so wide anyone else might've thought he was still faking. he looks like a lovesick puppy and, in that moment, you realize that maybe it felt natural because you had loved him from the start. he wasn't alone in that, you were wrapped around his finger and you were sure he'd be the death of you too. "i really, really do."

characters: issei matsukawa, satori tendo!!!!, kotaro bokuto, tetsuro kuroo, ryuunosuke tanaka, atsumu miya,,,

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yuyu-writes · 7 months

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let's go to the beach (beach) [18+]

[ kinktober 2023 ] day 3 - size difference

⟡ haikyuu!! -- matsukawa issei x reader

⟡ wc: 3,137

⟡ working from @/darling--core's kinktober list! NSFW, 18+ only!

⟡ summary:

Matsukawa gets over you once he graduates.

Little did he know you would follow in his footsteps, and this time he'll be greedy.

Archive of Our Own

Matsukawa Issei doesn’t know what to think of you when you first meet.

You’re a cute first year who joins as the team’s manager, and sure, he has a cute innocent crush on you because you’re just so sweet and kind to him, but he doesn’t pursue it knowing he’s graduating in less than a year.

He thinks it’s unfortunate, hugging you tight to his chest as you congratulate him on the day of graduation, surrounded by spring cheer and raining sakura petals. Maybe he holds you for a second longer than it is socially acceptable for friends to hug, but you seem to welcome it, clinging to him tighter as if to keep him there, with you.

He lets go, regretfully, and he doesn’t say anything more.

And then, he’s off to college, letting go of all of his little fantasies and expectations that featured you as the main actress.

Time passes. The familiar song and dance repeats and repeats and he finds himself back on campus for his third year of university. He’s gotten through with new little crushes and hookups and learned more about himself and reality as he barely juggles his academics and life at the same time.

You’re almost completely gone from his mind. It’s always hard to forget the first ones, but he’s ninety-nine percent over you.

What he doesn’t expect is for that one percent to hit him back, hard. As in, you barrel into his life once more, grown up and so much more confident than you before as his meek, quiet junior. And how could he ignore you, when you call his name with that same sweet voice, looking up at him with your big doe eyes as you smile so brightly at the fact that Matsukawa attends the same university as you.

He can’t say no, and the story repeats once more with a few revisions.

Matsukawa loves volleyball, but it’s not enough to chase after a regular spot on the school’s team, so he settles for joining the much more casual intramural league. It’s not hard for you to tail behind, taking up an organizer’s position per his suggestion.

Despite the two year difference between you, friendship comes easy to you as it does breathing. There’s only a slight awkwardness that lingers when you officially meet up for the first time, but once he pats your head and smiles at you, the one where his eyes crinkle and he looks at you gently, you realize it’s the same as before.

Of course, some things are different now.

(His mind wanders more often than not though–he can’t help it, not when you’re wearing that skirt and sweater combo that makes your legs look amazing.)

But now, he finds himself in a study room, nestled in the halls of your dorm building as he watches you work on your essay, jotting down notes to the side as you furrow your eyebrows in concentration. In front of him, his laptop is open to his latest assignment and he has only skimmed through the instructions, favoring the view across the table in the form of you.

“Oh, are you going to the intramural’s retreat next weekend?” you suddenly ask, looking up from your papers and locking eyes with him.

“Hm, not sure yet. I saw that forms were due by tomorrow though. Are you?”

“I think it’d be fun! Plus, I finish up my midterms early next week, so it’ll be like a little reward!”

“Heh, if you pass them,” Mattsun jokes, and you slap his arm with an offended “hey!” He recoils, acting as if it hurt. “Ouch, with that strength, you should’ve joined intramurals.”

“Just fill out that Google Form. I’m passing them and we’re going.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

—

Matsukawa already feels blessed enough to have seen you in casual clothes. Sure, the Seijoh uniform was cute and all, but the tracksuit for volleyball practice wasn’t the best outfit to show you off. Entering uni, your outfits were various and plenty, showing off all your sides. His stare lingered far too long on you when you weren’t looking, desperately burning them into his brain.

But this—he wonders what good karma he had done to deserve this.

You’re in a cute pink bikini, one with white frills around the edges that makes you look so, so sweet. Fuck, the universe is testing him, and he’s pretty confident he won’t pass.

“Mattsun! Over here!” You wave him over, clutching your tote bag closer to your side as you wait for him to reach you. “So? Isn’t it cute?” You twirl around once, graceful, as if you’re in a ballgown rather than a bikini, and he has to avert his eyes when he answers, too distracted by the cut of the bikini top along your cleavage.

“Cute. Is it new?” he asks, and it’s a safe question that he thinks of in a split second. Thank god he didn’t voice his thoughts out loud, or he would’ve been done for.

“Yeah! I got it before the semester began and only wore it once for a pool party!”

A few intramural members pass by, cheering as they rush through the sand towards the water. They nudge at Matsukawa, and you take his hand. “C’mon! They’re leaving us behind!”

He follows you, dragged helplessly by your gentle tug and his eyes locked on the way your fingers are laced with his own. It’s another image—a feeling that he tries to etch into his mind, rather than the blue sea just a few feet away.

You don’t stop, slowing slightly to drop your bag next to the other organizer’s beach towel and you continue your sprint, urging Matsukawa to run beside you as he simply laughs. A shriek escapes you as your feet hit the water, the cold splashing against your legs as it reaches you mid-thigh. You clutch his arm to your chest, and his own heart rate spikes at the feeling of your plush chest.

You’re talking about finding seashells and whatnot, but all he can focus on is the way your bikini fits your ass, how he could swipe a finger and tease your folds and make you a mess in just mere moments. Crouching down, you start to reach into the waters, searching through the sand for anything of interest, completely oblivious to Matsukawa’s inner conflict. You look back at him briefly, noticing his pursed lips, his eyes trained on you, but not quite your eyes.

And then you see the bulge in his swimsuit. Your heart jumps to your throat, and for a split second you wonder if it’s just because of the water rippling around his hips that causes his swim trunks to look like that–

Nope. nope. It’s not just the water, it’s not just your eyes playing tricks on you.

He blinks, and then his eyes flit to yours, following your gaze and he suddenly coughs into his fist, averting his gaze and lowering himself slightly into the water.

“S-Sorry. It’s nothing.”

Part of him hopes you just turn away, but the other part of him, needy for you after all this time, hopes you don’t.

Actually–Fuck it, he’ll make the first move.

He steps forward, one, two, and he’s just centimeters away from before he’s pressing himself against you. You jump, ready to whirl around but he grabs your hips to stop you from moving.

“Do you feel it? What you do to me?” Matsukawa says lowly, pressing your hips closer to him. It’s hard against your ass, and you’re trying to calm your nerves.

You won’t let me run away from you again.

“W-What do you want to do about it then?” You ask, with a flare of confidence that fills you as you experimentally grind back against him.

His eyes flicker between you and somewhere past the shoreline, and this time, you let him take your hand.

——

“Wait—Mattsun—What if someone comes in?”

He kisses you deeply once again, tongue swiping against yours as he swallows your moans and pushes you back against the wall. His breath ghosts over your lips. “No one’s going to come in, don’t worry your pretty head.”

“But–” He shuts you up again, easily overpowering any attempt of you pushing him away as you melt into his hold, jolting with a muffled moan when his fingers find their place in between your legs. They find your clit quickly, his index and middle finger circling around the sensitive nub, making your hips jolt as you grasp at his forearm. Moans fill the empty changing room—the ones that are farther away from the parking lot—but the possibility of someone coming in makes you more excited, much to your horror.

Matsukawa doesn’t seem to mind by the way his swim trunks do a poor job of hiding the bulge between his legs, and as a wave of excitement washes over you, you reach for the hem to pull them down.

Your jaw drops.

Faintly, you remember the times when the Seijoh boys would joke about dick sizes and what not as they left the locker room back in high school, and one of the most memorable points of that conversation you recall is that Mastukawa was, according to Oikawa’s words, “unfortunately, most hung.” You remember slapping Oikawa for being indecent, and Iwaizumi slapped him much harder to echo your sentiment.

He wasn’t lying.

“That won’t fit.”

“Don’t give up until you’ve tried,” Matsukawa jokes, one of his hands coming up to comfortingly pet your hair. “But if it really scares you, we don’t have to go that far.”

“No… I want to,” you reply quickly, eyes still glued onto his length. The tip is flushed red, and all coherent thought escapes you as your eyes trail down its length. You reach out for it, hovering over it and ask, “Can I?”

“Go ahead, princess.”

The pet name makes you shiver. And you wrap your hand around his cock, feeling it warm under your palm and fingers, a wave of satisfaction washing over you as Mattsun groans and closes his eyes in response. You’re barely able to wrap your fingers around it, and you experimentally stroke it, pleased when his hips stutter and he leans down to press his lips to your hair.

“Fuck, princess, keep going,” he groans, his voice a low rumble against your forehead. Spurred by his response, you go down to your knees, looking up at him through your lashes. You continue your ministrations, leaning up to press a kiss to the head of his cock, and Matsukawa moans at the sight.

“Shit, can’t believe you’re so naughty like this,” he says, watching you press another kiss to his length, tongue swiping over it as you lick the pearl of pre-cum off the tip. “When’d you learn to be so lewd?”

“When you left,” you breathe out. “Didn’t want anyone else, only you.”

Something burns inside Matsukawa when he hears those words—you’ve saved yourself just for him, followed him to his university, and it’s safe to assume it’s because you’ve always felt the same way for him.

He feels like he’s won the lottery.

You take his cock into your mouth, fisting the length that you can’t fit past your lips, and he grins, wide.

“I can’t wait any longer,” he hurries to say, cupping your face and gently pulling you up to your feet again. “Next time, I want you like this. But I need to be inside you, now.”

You don’t argue back, instead, nodding eagerly as you lean over so your hands rest against the bench edge. His hands find your hips easy, and he ruts against you automatically, his cock fitting perfectly against the curve of your ass, aching to be inside of you.

“Tell me when to stop,” he whispers against your shoulder. “Be honest with me, I don’t want to hurt you, alright?”

You look up, meeting his gaze through the mirror. His eyes are hooded, filled with lust and hunger, but he’s dead serious, and you nod, speechless. A hand gropes your ass and you mewl, clutching at the bench as your thighs squeeze together.

“Be honest.”

“I-I will,” you manage to say, closing your eyes when you feel a finger brush against your folds as he moves the bikini to the side. There’s something even more thrilling about being exposed with the bikini shoved to the side, rather than taking off your bottoms at all, and it makes you warm all over. You gasp suddenly when his cock nudges your sopping cunt, and you bite back a moan as he pushes in.

You inhale sharply—despite prepping with his fingers, it’s still big—both length and girth. He goes slow, watching your reaction carefully like a hawk as he pushes in. He stills.

“Are you ok? Breathe for me, darling.”

You let out the breath you were holding, but you can’t help but clench tighter around Issei, making him grunt at the sudden movement.

“Fuck, you’re so tight for me,” he says into your shoulder, breath ghosting over your back. “Loosen up for me. I’ll make you feel good, promise.”

His hand wanders up to your chest, cupping at your breast before he toys with your nipple, gently flicking at it with his finger and relishing in the way your back arches and your meaning loudly for him once more.

With a few more pauses and sweet nothings whispered in your ear, you feel Issei’s hips flush against your ass, and the thought of his cock filling you up as you dizzy with lust.

“You feel that?” Matsukawa whispers. “Look at you.”

You bite your lip to stifle a moan and you turn your head to look at the mirror. His hips are right up against your ass, and your reflection looks absolutely wrecked as she stares back at you, stars in her eyes and little gasps escaping her swollen pink lips. Matsukawa, on the other hand, is absolutely glowing, the light on his sweat sheened skin making his muscles ripple as he holds your hips with his large hands, his hair falling against his face as he stares down at you with a heavy lust filled gaze.

You clench again, and he groans.

“Gonna…Gonna break,” you stutter out, half delirious by the sensation of his cock stretching you impossibly wide.

“It’s ok if you do, I’ll take care of you,” Matsukawa murmurs, eyes glued where he and you are connected. The hand on your ass squeezes, and you feel his thumb circling your opening, as if admiring the way he’s stretching you, intoxicated by your body and all of its sweet reactions to his touch. He moves, sliding in and out of you slowly, observing you for any indication of pain. When you do gasp, he stills immediately, asking if you’re ok before he continues his slow pace.

“I don’t think I’ll last that long when your cunt is squeezing me so tightly,” Matsukawa breathes out. “Fuck, if I knew you’d take me so well I would’ve done this back in high school.”

It hits a chord in you, and he grunts again when you clench with a gasp.

“Did you want this too, princess?”

“Y-Yes, always wanted you…it’s so much bigger than I imagined—” your voice breaks into a gasp when Mattsun twitches inside you. His palm is splayed out across your back where it arches, clenching uncontrollably around his thick cock.

“Imagined? I’ll make sure to go beyond your imagination, then.”

It’s the only warning he gives you before he starts moving his hips, rutting into you in punctuated movements. With each thrust, you feel yourself pushed forwards, your body going numb with pleasure as he hits all the spots that drive you insane. Warmth coils at your gut, tight and building as he drives his cock deep inside of you—your skin tingles with excitement. Suddenly—

“N-No Issei, don’t!” Your cries drown out the rest of your protests, and Issei grins against your shoulder, pressing harder against your stomach, right below your bellybutton where he can feel the tip of his cock drive into you. His other hand cups your tits, squeezing and fondling them before he slips under your bikini top, pushing it to the side to find your nipples easily, flicking and twisting them between his fingers.

Fuck, fuck—fuck your cunt is so tight around him and your wanton moans are for his ears only. He wasn’t lying earlier—even he’s impressed with how long he’s been able to hold back, but he feels the telltale signs of his orgasm approaching, the warmth burning tenfold when he sees how absolutely undone you are by his own hands.

“Say my name, baby,” he gasps, your given name falling from his lips. His fingers draw frantic circles around your clit. “Tell me who’s gonna fill you up.”

“I-Issei!” you cry, voice stuttering into a long keen. You’re absolutely gone, blissed out and desperate to reach your climax. “Issei, gonna cum—gonna—!”

He cuts you off by slamming himself deep into you, driven over the edge by the moan of his given name and nearly tipping you over as he pulls your hips closer to him. You have no doubt his cum is filling your cervix as he pulses inside of you, and you're shuddering around his cock, riding out your own orgasm as he presses his thumb against your clit. Ecstasy is all you feel, your limbs gone numb as Issei holds you up, squeezing your hips as he stills, making sure you’ve taken every drop of him.

With a shaky exhale, Issei pulls out, hissing at the feeling and instantly eyeing the way your pussy convulses before his cum leaks out of you in fat drops, painting your cunt and clit white before it falls onto the floor.

“Look at how messy you are,” Issei tuts, crouching down and lifting your chin so you can meet his gaze through blurry eyes. “Hey, stay with me. We have a lot to catch up on, and we’ll start by cleaning you up first.”

When he lays you down on the bench so your upper half is against the wood and your legs are spread out for him, you vaguely wonder if you should let the rest of your team know that you’ll be late for dinner.

All thoughts are thrown out the door as he takes his place in between your legs, spreading your thighs open as the first swipe of his tongue licks up the mix of your cum and his.

#haikyuu #hq #haikyuu reader #matsukawa issei #matsukawa issei reader #matsukawa issei imagine #haikyuu imagine #kinktober #haikyuu smut #smut #yuyukinktober

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atsumwah · 2 years

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

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

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

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

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

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

reblogs are appreciated bbys <33

#haikyuu fluff #matsukawa fluff #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa imagines #matsukawa headcanons #matsukawa issei #hq matsukawa #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu headcanons #—q's!#—hcs.

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sutaro-min · 8 months

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[10:15 pm]

game over. game over. game over.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

issei rolles his eyes. again.

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

he grins. "your sister."

makki goes dead silent.

"hello? you there makki?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you raise a brow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

makki falls silent again.

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

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

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

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

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shojoisms · 2 years

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+ cw: oral fixation, dry humping, vaginal penetration, fem!reader, use of pet names.

+ not really beta read, just copied this from my Google docs.

Mattsun finds it cute, no, he finds you cute.

The way your doe-like eyes fixate on his hands, trailing themselves all the way to the tips of his thick, long fingers as you sit on his lap — your pretty plaid skirt bunched around your waist. You don’t even try to hide the fact that you’ve been staring for so long.

“What is it, doll,” He asks, voice as sweet as honey as he takes a hold on your chin — cradling it between those fingers you’ve grown to adore.

You don’t answer, instead you pout as Matsukawa rubs his thumb over your pretty lips. “Gotta use your words, baby,”

“I want you,”

A breathless chuckle leaves his lips, although he wasn’t laughing at you. He found it amusing just how fascinated you were with his fingers.

“Open up for me then, pretty girl,” You do as you're told, parting your lips slightly, just enough for him to dip his fingers in. You waste no time in coating them with your saliva — swirling your tongue around his digits as you continue to suck.

Fuck, Mattsun groans. His cock stirring in his sweats as you diligently suck on his fingers as if it were his cock. He damn near loses his mind when you wrap your smaller hands around his arm — his muscles involuntarily flexing underneath your touch as you force more of him into your mouth.

“Bet you wish it was my cock, huh,” he teases, his eyes darkening as stares at your form. You try to answer but all that came out was muffled moans and choked sobs.

He presses down on your tongue with enough force that has you gagging, drool seeping from the corners of your mouth.

He laughs, his lips tugging into a wicked grin. The sadist in him takes great pleasure in watching you choke and sob. Oh god how he wishes it was his cock you were choking on.

He’d almost feel bad, almost. If it weren’t for the way you were grinding your hips against his — rubbing that pretty pussy along his hardening erection.. and he swears he can feel your wetness seep through the fabric of his pants.

He swears, muttering a string of curses before finally he pulls his fingers away from your mouth.

Big, watery eyes staring back at him in confusion. “Sorry, doll.” He groans, fumbling with the band of his sweats. “I just really need to be inside you right now,”

The lopsided grin he sends you has you chewing on your bottom lip in anticipation as he kisses a trail upon your neck leading all the way to your ear. “You’ll let me, right?”

His voice is low, you can feel his warm breath fanning against the shell of your ear. “You’ll let me make us both feel good, right baby?”

You nod frantically, and he hisses as soon as he frees his cock — rubbing it against your panty clad cunt.

“Of course you will, you’re such a good girl for me,” His praises had your heart fluttering, and your cheeks felt like they were on fire. “Raise your hips baby,”

You lift your hips, pushing your panties to the side you align the tip of his cock with your cunt.

The fat, mushroom tip parting your walls upon intrusion as he forced more and more of his giant cock inside of you.

F—fuck, Matsukawa mumbles.

“Feels like I’ve won a lotto, ya know that?” He groans, finally sheathing himself inside you. You’re so tight, so warm, the feeling of your cunt feels like heaven around him — he’d live there if he could. “Your pussy feels like it was made for me.”

His large hands palm at your ass, playing with your plush globes as he uses them to lift you up and slam you back down on his cock — his balls slapping against you with a pap, pap, pap.

Matsukawa’s cock felt heavy as it dragged through your walls with each thrust. You writhe and whine, your arms wrapping around his next as he hits that special spot deep inside you.

And from your reactions, he knows he’s doing something right, he bucks into you with renewed fervor — the tip of his cock bullying your sensitive spot.

“Mattsun, Mattsun,” You cry, tears threatening to spill from the corners of your eyes as he continues fucking into you. The pathetic look upon your face has his balls tightening.

“You have no idea what you do to me, doll,”

His pace is relentless, spearing you with his cock — your head feels fuzzy from the sensation of being split in two.

“Is—sei, ‘s close, ‘s close,”

“Yeah, baby?” Matsukawa drawls, gritting his teeth as your walls spasm and constrict around him — your orgasm hitting hard leaving you a limp mess in his arms.

He holds your body close as he lazily bucks into your sloppy hole searching for his own end — the sounds of skin slapping against skin and the lewd squelching noises could be heard throughout the room.

“Your pussy’s so greedy, baby, clenching onto my cock like it’s trying to milk me for all I got,”

And with one final thrust, he cums — his cock twitching and pulsating inside you as he empties his balls, thick ribbons of white coating your walls, filling you to the brim it causes some to ooze out of your cum, drenching both yours and Matsukawa’s thighs.

You look at him, through hooded, glassy eyes. Admiring the way his hair sticks to his sweat covered forehead, he looks ethereal — like some sort of sex god, you think.

“Come on, baby, let’s get you all cleaned up,”

#haikyuu smut #hq smut #haikyuu imagines #matsukawa x reader #Matsukawa smut #matsukawa issei x you #matsukawa issei x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #matsukawa x y/n

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laiiaaa · 1 year

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SEEMS PROMISING — MATSUKAWA ISSEI

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

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

length: 3.6k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, that one—he’s a little…”

“Little bit much?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really? What’s he say about me?”

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

“Yet?”

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

You lend him a blank stare. “Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hajime, you mean?”

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

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

“Well, you smoke.”

“Yep.”

“You wear a nice corduroy jacket.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, that’s three things.”

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

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

“You want to trade information?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s your favorite song, and why?”

“That’s two questions.”

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

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

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

“Okay, then think about it now.”

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

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

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

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

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

“And what would that be?”

“That smoking’s a no-go?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

“To the first part, or the second?”

“The first.”

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

“Romantic?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, “He was a dick.”

“That sucks.”

“Thanks. How about you?”

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

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

“It’s alright.”

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

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

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

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

“It did.” You look at his lips.

“I don’t even know you.”

“No, but you could.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That I did.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you nod, “Probably.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he thinks it seems awfully promising.

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