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Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
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@mattsumaki
[ MATTSUMAKI ] : enemies to lovers.
[ MATT ] : twenty. they/any. sfw writing blog.
[ CURRENTLY ] : out on hiatus. biting suna’s cheeks.
[ QUICK LINKS ] : mlists. requests. wips. tags.
[ JUST POSTED ]
+ fruit bowl : poly!bokuroo.
+ attention : tōru oikawa.
+ one more chance : yūji terushima.
© mattsumaki. do not translate, repost, or redistribute in any way on any platform.
join me in the update corner :)
[ tl;dr : i’m alive, i am writing, tumblr just doesn’t like me right now. i’m going to try and be more active, hope i actually do so and that tumblr lets me out of shadowban jail, it’s very cold and lonely here ]
tags : gn!reader, fluff, suggestive af, (platonic to) romantic relationship (?), graphic opening, mentions of alcohol / drinking & blood, cursing, edited repost, 2.0k, inspired by & dedicated to the lovely @torhues ♡
a shrill scream echoes through the living room followed by the quick flash of a knife. it drives through the woman’s chest, then rips back out. a spray of dark red blood splashes over the wall in a dramatic arch. she stares up at the masked figure posed above her as more dribbles from her lips and blooms through her shirt.
“oh, come on! that was way too easy, she could have ran.” you glare at the tv through narrowed eyes as the killer continues stabbing into her stomach, the sound wet and enough to make nausea twist in your gut.
iwaizumi smirks around his bottle of beer as he takes a long drink. “i told you she would die first.” the point of his elbow nudges at your side, “you owe me ten bucks.” you scoff and roll your eyes.
every saturday of every month, you and your group of old friends gather at one of your places to watch a movie. it’s been a set tradition since back in your school days, and you’ve all done your best to keep it going. this particular movie night, you're down to just you and iwaizumi; the others — hanamaki, matsukawa, and oikawa — had promised to come, but canceled at the last minute due to unspecified reasons.
tonight’s current pick is some generic horror movie you couldn’t be bothered to remember the name of; the movie itself proved to be just as forgettable. you tried to spice it up with beer and betting on who you thought would die first, but it hardly helped.
“yeah, yeah.” you slouch into the couch with a frustrated grumble, nose scrunched up and arms thrown in your lap. “hardly feel fair. you knew she was gonna die.”
“so did you, but you didn’t bet on her. that’s on you, sore loser.”
you send him an annoyed glare out the corner of your eye. he returns a half-hearted scowl before turning his eyes back to the tv. sitting up a little straighter again, you grab the throw pillow beside you and hug it close to your chest. “still not fair.”
the movie continues on without much interruption, save for a few jests tossed out here and there when you find something stupid or comical. you do your best to stay invested, but it quickly proves to be utterly useless. bad movies are only as good as the jokes you can make about them. this one feels like you’re beating the skeleton of the dead horse it once was.
compared to you, iwaizumi looks far more interested than you can pretend to be. setting aside the pillow, you scoot a little closer and drop your head on his shoulder. “i’m bored.”
sugar r u shadowbanned or smn :(
i think so, or fuckin’ somethin’. i’m not seein you on dash or gettin’ much interaction despite all my queued stuff
tags : gn!reader, angst, complicated relationship, implied break up at end, no comfort only pain, 2.0k words
the faint drip…drip…drip of water from the kitchen sink chips at the silence suffocating terushima’s apartment. it’s been leaking for more over a week now, maybe even longer, he’s not fully sure. he stopped caring after his brain tuned out the sound into the background.
at best, one of the handles needs to be properly pushed back in place. at worst, he needs to call a plumber. either way, he can’t be bothered to fix it. he can’t be bothered to do much of anything. he knows he should; it’s not good nor healthy to wallow in an endless slump. getting up and moving could help get him out of it; something like going to practice, starting on the chores he’s been neglecting, or even just showering after so long.
but he doesn’t. curled up on the couch, curtains drawn to keep out the sun, terushima stares at the adjacent wall. he’s not really sure he’s even actually looking, his eyes are focused but his head is off somewhere else. it’s been like that since you left.
everything has been this way since you left. unattended, ignored, depressed.
the potted succulent on the windowsill has nearly shriveled up with thirst for some water and sunlight. you loved that little plant so much, you had the biggest smile when you picked it up from the store. it had been an impulsive purchase, you had a list to follow and it hadn’t been on it, but you grabbed it anyway. you thought it looked cute and made up some excuse how it’d help your new shared apartment feel more like a home.
you gave it some silly name, like jerry or rosaline, and he teased you for it because plants don’t need names, but he went along with it. it made you happy, and he loved when you were happy.
sometimes he wonders if you miss it, the succulent. when you came to pack up yourself from your — his apartment, you skipped over it. not that it really mattered; you missed other things, too, stuff more significant than some plant. you had been in such a hurry, like being in the apartment — being around him — was the worst possible place to be.
he hadn’t kept it as tidy as you did when you lived together. though, looking back, the apartment looks far worse now than it probably ever has even before you moved in with him. that isn’t to say he didn’t try at first. but slowly, over time, he couldn’t seem to find the motivation or energy. dishes piled up in the sink, papers were tossed carelessly on the table, crumbs sprinkled the floor.
the apartment became as much of a mess as him.
he hates it. the mess, the quiet drip in the kitchen, the strong throb in his chest. he hates all of it.
what went wrong? some things aren’t meant to last.
tags : gn!reader, angst, complicated relationship, break up, 0.5k words
four and a half months. that’s how long it’s been since you and terushima broke up. it simultaneously feels so much longer yet so much sooner, like time crawled by while also flying past.
a fight, that’s all had taken; he can’t quite remember what had sparked the match to spark the fire, but whatever it had been was enough to consume you in flames and leave you scarred.
every relationship has its ups and down, its disputes and resolves, yours wasn’t exempt from that simple fact. but you always managed to make it work. that was something he loved about you; your seemingly bottomless forgiveness and patience. he would be the first to admit he could be rather good at testing its limits — never on purpose, of course.
you would give him chance after chance, something he was never really allowed in his many past relationships. another way you were different, another thing he loved about you. and maybe in some small unintentional way, he became greedy with your chances overtime, he took one too many and didn’t take the time to appreciate them for what they were.
he never meant for it to end the way it did. if he were to be fully honest, he never wanted it to end. the mere thought of losing you made his heart ache in a painfully familiar way. that same ache ripped through his chest and made a home behind his ribs.
if he were to reflect back on your past fights, that one would have to be the ugliest above them all. it felt different then the others, like it had been building up since the beginning. and in some way it did.
it had started as a small cut, a mere scratch you ignored and slapped a band-aid over.
but, with each passing week leading up, every minor poke and push at one another, an ugly infection began to grow deep inside. little by little, it worsened, blistering and scabbing whenever you would scratch at it. you could only pick at it for so long before the pain became too much.
“i don’t think i can do this anymore, yūji.” the tone of your voice had been so soft, apologetic even; not about any one thing in particular, but almost everything.
you couldn’t look him in the eye when you said it, like it hurt you to see the pain on his face just as much as it hurt him to hear those words. and it did, he knows it did because he knows you, but people do stupid things when they’re hurt.
he snapped back, something far harsher than he meant it to be. it was enough to make you look at him, and he saw his feelings reflected in your eyes. then everything you had built over the past years fell apart. it all happened so fast; screaming until your chests hurt, invading the other’s space as you fought for the final word, a finalizing “we’re done” as the door slammed shut behind you.
and that was it.
you were over.
© mattsumaki. do not translate, repost, or redistribute in any way on any platform.
is this really it? there’s sill so much to say.
tags : gn!reader, fluff, domestic, romantic relationship, edited repost, 0.8k words
bzzz…bzzz…bzzz…bzzz.
your phone shakes on the edge of the nightstand, alarm noisily ringing out to wake you up. aizawa grumbles into his pillow with discontent, brows pushing together as he fights hard to ignore the disruption. normally, you would snooze it almost immediately, but a minute passes and it continues to scream.
“shut that damn thing off, will you?”
no response.
“hey,” he tries again, a bit more heft behind his voice.
still no response.
rolling onto his back, he blindly tosses an arm over you, only to grab at empty space. confused, his eyes open to check that you are, in fact, missing from bed. he should have noticed the lack of body heat pressed up against him and arms clinging to his middle sooner; he could never seem to get you off of him when he had to leave early in the morning.
but today isn’t a school or hero work day; it's a saturday, one of his few blessed days away from it all where he can spend his time doing whatever he wants. and yet the one person he wants to spend his day off with is notably absent.
he leans over your side and snatches your phone, thumb shutting off the alarm for some peace. his free hand scrubs at his tired eyes, nails scratching at the light stubble peppering his jaw in a five o’clock shadow. the blanket slides down around his waist, leaving his chest exposed to the cool morning air and warm golden sun.
balancing on the backs of his forearms, aizawa pushes off his hands to sit upright. he mumbles a low grunt as his arms extend high above his head to relieve the tiredness clinging to the muscles. craning his head left and right, he searches the room for you only to come up empty handed.
where could you have disappeared to?
the floorboards are cool beneath his bare feet as he shuffles his way out of the bedroom and down the hallway. the closer he nears the kitchen, the stronger the rich scent of freshly brewing coffee and buttered toast fills his senses. turning the corner, he finds you standing in front of the stove, spatula in hand and weight leaned on one hip.
so this is where you’ve gone; he should have guessed.
your hair is damp, most likely from a warm morning shower, tiny droplets dripping onto the old gray t-shirt of his you most definitely stole from his closet when he wasn’t looking. soft sunlight glows on your skin through the window above the sink. the sound of sizzling food and the low purr of the coffee machine murmurs in the air.
footsteps softly thudding against the floor, aizawa drags himself up close behind you, his arms lazily looping around your stomach. he squeezes you into him as his head ducks into the curve of your shoulder.
“morning, sleepyhead.” you lift a hand to run through his dark hair, earning a content hum from deep in his chest that vibrates against your back. “sleep well?”
“i was before a certain someone decided they no longer wanted to without telling me.”
a light chuckle shakes your breath and shoulders. “i’m sorry, handsome. at least you had my alarm for some nice company.”
his head lifts from its hiding spot to send a sharp, unamused glare your direction. your chuckle bubbles into full belly laughter, head tipping back against him. cupping his cheek, you lean in to press an apologetic kiss to his jaw, then another to his lips. he steals a few more before letting you turn away, a laughing smile skipping across your features.
“so,” you start, pushing the spatula under a piece of toast to flip it over, “what do you think we should do today? aside from sleeping in some more.”
his laugh is low in your ear, the scratch of stubble on the temple rough yet comforting. the hands on your hips tease their way up beneath your shirt, his fingers tracing the skin over your ribs. you gasp softly at the rush of cool air, a sharp contrast to the heat of his touch.
“bold of you to assume we would only be sleeping.” an elbow to his stomach makes him chuckle and his arms wrap tighter around you. “‘m only messing with ya. what sounds nice to you?”
you let the crackle of bread toasting in the pan and the faint whisper of breath from aizawa fill the silence as you ponder on his question.
“i think,” you draw at the word as you find the rest of the sentence, “staying in for the day actually sounds quite nice. that way i can have you,” your free hand slides up his forearm to grab the hand resting below your chest, fingers sliding into the spaces between his, “all to myself.”
he hums in agreement as his head drops back to its original spot at the curve of your neck. his lips caress the slope of your shoulder to the space beneath your jaw, his breath hot on your skin with his words. “then a day inside with you it is.”
© mattsumaki — do not translate, repost, modify, plagiarize, or redistribute in any way on any platform
tags : gn!reader, fluff, romantic relationship, cursing, “pet names” (brat), 0.9k words
you’re sitting up against the headboard painting your nails when dabi comes walking through the bedroom doorway. a brief glance is shared between the two of you, acknowledging the other's presence.
you cock your head with a faint smile. “hey, intruder. i didn’t hear you come in.”
he simply grunts back, like forming words–let alone a sentence–is too much work. a brat, as usual, not that you’d expect anything less from your boyfriend.
letting his jacket slide off his shoulders and onto the floor in a heap, he silently walks around to the side of your bed and, without warning, flops down on his back. the sudden impact makes your sharply jostle back and forth, nail polish streaking across your skin.
“what the hell, dabi?” you snap angrily. the man in question lazily hums back another wordless response, eyebrows raised in question as if he doesn’t know he’s the exact reason behind your sudden outburst. you push his head with a roll of your eyes. “you’re such an ass.”
that pulls a light chuckle out of him, one side of his mouth curving into a half grin. the anger in your chest dissipates at the sound. dabi drops his head to the side, blue eyes studying your concentrated expression; brows drawn close together, teeth digging softly into your bottom lip, eyes fixated on the hand laid still on your leg. “what are you doing?”
“he speaks,” you tease and earn a light smack to the calf in retaliation. “my nails. i can do yours, if ya want.”
he blinks once, then twice. “what?”
“your nails.” leaning over, you re dip the brush and apply another coat to your thumb. “i don’t have a lot, but you can pick whatever color.”
he’s silent for a long moment. you can feel his gaze shift between your face and hand as he silently contemplates your offer. before you can think to take it back, he jumps in, “sure, why not.”
the look you give him is nothing short of surprised glee, eyes glinting and lips smiling wide, and a small part of him already regrets his decision. too late to go back on it now. as you gather the bottles of nail polish, he settles himself comfortably between your legs. the back of his head sits comfortably on your stomach, calloused hands warm where they find their places on your thighs.
“alright, we have…,” you roll the bottles around in your hands as you list off the colors. “midnight black, sapphire blue, lilac purple, and sunflower yellow. whatcha feeling?”
he pretends to think seriously about the question, going so far as to pensively tap his chin with a deep hum thrumming in his throat. fingers threading into his dark hair, you give his head a playful shake with a clenched growl. a breathy laugh escapes him.
“black. i don’t trust you with anything else.”
you lean down close enough to his face for the tip of his nose to graze your forehead. he doesn’t so much as flinch. “and here i thought you loved me.”
“do you wanna paint ‘em or not?”
he doesn’t have to ask twice; there’s no way in hell you’re giving up this golden opportunity, though not without throwing in the last word under your breath of course. “you never let me have any fun.”
unscrewing the cap off the black nail polish, you straighten and grab one of his hands from your thighs and push it higher up to your knee before starting. curious as when he had studied you do yours, dabi watches you slowly paint streaks of black across his nails.
the room falls still, the only sound the warm, rhythmic breaths that pass your lips and muffle into his hair. he’s careful to not shift around harsh enough to mess you up, but just enough to mildly annoy you. each time, you give his arm a pinch and chide a soft “stop it” that falls on deaf ears. what kind of boyfriend would he be if he didn’t cause at least the minimal amount of chaos?
it doesn’t take you terribly long to finish the left hand, and he notices how the result is rather neat and clean. you drop the small bottle beside your hip, then bring his hand to your face and gently blow on his nails. his eyes peer up through his lashes to watch, gaze transfixed on the pout of your lips.
you notice, of course, not that he’s really trying to hide it. “you’re staring.”
“no, i wasn’t,” he scoffs, making you giggle ‘mhm’ into his hair as you start the other hand.
he doesn’t quite know how much time passes, not that he was trying to keep count at any point, but by the time you finish, his muscles feel in need of a good stretch. you do just so yourself, arms rising high above your head and face scrunching up with a satisfied groan. he takes the chance to admire his new, shiny black nails.
“so,” cozying back against the headboard, you tilt your head at your boyfriend. “whatcha think?”
“they’re nice.” his voice almost seems to fall flat, lacking any real enthusiasm on the surface, but you know it’s there.
“i’m glad you like them. maybe next time you can try something more…colorful.” you point a not so subtle ‘hint hint’ look in his direction for a long second before your eyes dart up towards the ceiling. “like blue or silver or something.”
there’s no response on his end. instead, he flips over onto his stomach, arms curling up around your sides and his full weight falls pressing down on top of you. your hands subconsciously begin to card through his hair and gently rub his back.
“...that wasn’t a no.”
“it also wasn’t a yes.”
“still isn’t a direct no.”
he doesn’t bother to lift his head, rather closes his eyes in favor of hiding deeper into your stomach. “shut up and cuddle me, brat.”
© mattsumaki — do not translate, repost, modify, plagiarize, or redistribute in any way on any platform
tags : gn!reader, fluff, little suggestive, unspecified relationship, mentions of alcohol / drinking, small descriptions of (fake) blood, 0.5k words
okay, but hear me out: suna dressing up as a vampire for halloween. and i’m not talking the cheap classic bram stoker’s kind of vampire — though knowing him, he one hundred percent would when he’s feeling lazy or unmotivated.
no, i am talking about more like the hot but creepy kind of vampire. black clothes head to toe, maybe some smokey dark eyeshadow around his eyes to give that like tired dead look. oh, and, how could he forget the fake blood. and he doesn’t go light on, oh no, it's messy and all over his chin and halfway down his neck. if you hadn’t seen him (and suggested) mix together some corn syrup and red food dye, a tiny part of you may have thought he actually hurt himself — or, worse, someone.
if suna dressing as a vampire isn't enough, imagine him managing to rope you into a couples costume kind of thing. as much as he loved the idea of you also being a vampire, there is no way he could pass up you being his human victim. and when you step out of the bathroom with the finished ensemble — fake blood and bite mark and all — he is more than tempted to say screw the halloween party, he has much more fun plans in mind for the night.
he’s practically glued to your side the whole party, face tucked away in the crook of your shoulder. and he doesn’t even try to hide it, not that the wandering hands and constant bites at your neck are anywhere close to subtle. you do your best to ignore him and engage with everyone, but suna is far too good at making even something as simple as talking hard to do. you know what he’s scheming, that each nip at your ear and nuzzle of his nose is to slowly chip away at your resolve.
and it works, because it’s suna and the alcohol in your system has you feeling warm and the party was starting to bore anyway. so, grabbing the hand stuck to your hip, you discard your empty cup and pull him away somewhere dark and hidden from view. he doesn’t bother to tease something witty or flirty. a hand sliding up your shirt and the other tilting your head, thumb under your jaw and the veins of his hands flexed so beautifully. he uses his weight to pin you against the wall; the few drinks he downed aren’t much help for his balance.
the smudge of fake blood and puncture on your neck is licked off in favor of his own love bites. you have to dig your teeth down hard on your bottom lip to keep from drawing attention, even if you are out of sight. the gentle scrape and poke of his fangs — another part of his outfit you graciously helped with — makes your voice hiccup in your throat. his breath feels hot but the silver rings decorating each finger feel cold, an exciting contrast on your skin.
your quick pulse jumps against his lips and suna can’t help but smile to himself. “relax. we’ve barely even gotten to the fun part.”
© mattsumaki. do not translate, repost, or redistribute in any way on any platform.
tags : gn!reader, reverse hurt / comfort kinda, unspecified relationship (?), 0.5k words
bakugo stands still under the burning spray of the showerhead, eyes closed shut as he soaks in the heat. the cascade of water slides over his shoulders and chest, down his thighs and calves before running down the drain.
today has been the hardest of the week; fresh blooming bruises and healing cuts litter his skin from top to bottom. his palms feel raw and scalded from the seemingly nonstop use of his quirk. every muscle and limb pulses with a deep ache, one that feels settled past the tissue and in the very marrow of his bones. if he wasn’t clinging to his last shreds of strength — and the tile wall in front of him — he’d surely collapse from exhaustion.
a gentle knock at the door snags his attention. “hey,” your voice barely carries over the drowning patter. “you almost done?”
“yeah, yeah. give me a sec.” one hand scrubs at his face as the other reaches behind to shut off the water. grabbing a towel from the rack, he pulls it into the shower and slowly pats dry, then wraps it snugly around his hips as he steps out.
you’re sitting on the bathroom counter top, ankles crossed and head leaning on the wall as if it was too heavy for you to hold up. the dark bags under your eyes rival bakugo’s; stress had done its own number on you and the results were scarily similar to his. the permanent crease between your brows, the tense press of your lips in a line, the low sag of your shoulders.
he hates seeing you like this, hated even more knowing he was the reason why. he’s supposed to take care of you and make you happy. instead, he’s keeping you up late into the night worrying if he’s okay, if he’ll come home to you.
“i’m sorry.” the words slip past his lips without him thinking. they fade into the stretching quiet of the bathroom. you blink once, twice, eyes flicking around his features like you’re searching for more. then you reach a hand towards him.
hesitantly, he places his hand in yours and lets you pull him to you. his body slots between your legs, your thighs either side of his as his arms hang by your waist, fingers idly toying at your top. he allows some of his weight to lean on you, but not so much that you’re pressed into the mirror behind you. your breaths are quiet and steady in his ear.
fingers dancing over the skin of his chest, feather light and slow, you trace a path over his shoulders and down his arms to his hands, then back up again. he closes his eyes and focuses on the feeling of your touch; down, then up, down, then up. it’s enough to ground him in the moment. here, with you in your bathroom, both breathing and hearts beating, both warm and close.
your hands stop at the curves of his shoulders before sliding back to cup the nape of his neck. arms wrapping around him, you rest your head against his and blow out a soft sigh through your nose. he does the same, arms tightening around your lower back as he holds you close to him.
“i’m sorry.” tears prick at the corners of his eyes and he harshly blinks them away. “i’m so sorry.”
breathing in, you can barely hide the cracks in your own voice. “i know, katsuki. i know.”
© mattsumaki — do not translate, repost, modify, plagiarize, or redistribute in any way on any platform
tags : gn!reader, fluff, romantic relationship, pet names (baby), 0.7k words
work would be the death of kuroo, he’s beyond certain of it. there are hard days — as with any job — but lately, they seem to have stacked themselves up one on the other like a pillar, each stretching him impossibly thinner than the last. to be fair, he can’t point all of the blame solely on his job, deserved it may be. he isn’t completely free of fault himself.
many of his colleagues love to joke that he’s a man married to his work. and it’s true, he knows it to be. he’s devoted to what he does, reminiscent in a way to how he’s devoted to you. when you begin to struggle under the weight of school or work, he’s there to shoulder some of it, all while gently chasitizing about how you need to prioritize and take care of yourself. but when it comes to himself and his own responsibilities, the same no longer applies.
just as he does with you, you do what you can to help ease his stress and remind him of the importance of focusing on himself as much as he does his work. and despite his genuine promises to not forget, it always manages to find its spot on the back burner. today was a clear example of just that.
the high stack of documents and thick files seemed to be endless. with each one he completed, five more took its place. the countless hours he poured in felt pointless when his efforts barely put a dent into his workload. by the end of the day, kuroo felt ready to collapse. and he planned to, preferably into your welcoming arms rather than his cluttered desk.
tiredly sliding the key into the lock, it turns with a quiet ‘click’. the doorknob twists in his palm as he pushes into your shared apartment, the door shutting against the weight of his back. he toes at the heel of his dress shoes until they slide off and pushes them next to yours. he doesn’t bother to step into the pair of slippers you keep next to the door for him; he had no plans of staying on his feet for much longer tonight.
you hear his heavy footfalls coming down the hall before you see him. tilting the screen down halfway, your eyes drift up to greet him when he enters. he lingers in the doorway, slouched figure leant on the frame and heavy gaze staring back at you. you take note of his disheveled appearance; silk red tie loose and uneven around his collar, first few buttons of his creased dress shirt undone.
you’re the first to speak. “hey, you. how was work today?”
his lips thin into a tight smile. he huffs through his nose indifferently, head rolling in a drowsy circle to relieve the tension in his neck. you fully close your laptop and push it off to his side of the bed. lap now empty, you open your arms in silent offering. he stands still for a long moment as he builds up the strength.
pushing off the door frame with a grunt, kuroo shakes off his suit jacket from his shoulders, letting it fall by the end of the bed in a heap for later. the mattress creaks under the weight of his knees as he shuffles up towards you.
your hands bump against his shoulders as they slide up to cradle the back of his head. eyes sliding shut, he lets you guide him to your chest while draping himself over top of you like a weighted blanket. he breathes out a deep sigh that warms your skin, arms sliding along your sides in a half-hearted attempt to hold you back.
it’s comforting, the way your hands card and scratch through the black mess of his hair. with each pass of your fingers through the dark strands, careful when they come across a knot to untangle, kuroo finds himself slipping further into the exhaustion pulling him under.
your hands in his hair as your lips brush the shell of his ear. “get some rest, tetsu. we can talk and worry about everything later. i’ll be here when you wake up.”
he noses at the underside of your jaw with a warm, drawn out sigh. “thank you, baby.” his mumbled words barely reach your ears before he’s dozing off to the steady pound of your heartbeat.
© mattsumaki. do not translate, repost, or redistribute in any way on any platform.
today is…happy…tree :)
tags : gn!reader, fluff, suggestive, romantic relationship, cursing, 0.5k words
the first thing matsukawa notices when he wakes, aside from the bright shine of the sun in his eyes, is the absence of you. the arm once hung heavily over your shoulders lay outstretched across the sheets. his hand, previously laced with yours and tucked to your chest, is now curled around nothing. you somehow had managed to slip away without stirring him.
you’re supposed to spend the morning — and the afternoon, if he could persuade you just so — with him cuddled in bed. instead, if the sound of rushing water is anything to go off, you’re in the bathroom brushing your teeth. the tap goes silent as he sits up in bed. you walk in a second later and he tips onto his back to look at you.
dressed in nothing but a pair of underwear and a t-shirt that’s far too big for you — one that could be his for all he knows — you lean against the frame, arms crossed and gaze staring back at him.
“look who decided to wake up.”
he blows out a laugh through his nose as a grin fights its way across his lips. “funny. y’know, some people actually recommend sleeping during the day, it’s supposed to be better for you.”
“is that right?”
“mhmm,” he hums back with a nod. you straighten away from the doorway and walk over to the bed. his eyes follow you as you shuffle across the blanket on your knees towards him. he reaches out to cup your hips in his palms underneath your — his? — shirt. legs sliding along either side of his waist, you drop your weight on top of his lap. the teasing ‘oof’ that follows earns him a smack to the chest.
“asshole.”
“you love this asshole.”
“sure i do. i could be deceiving you this whole time, for all you know.”
his eyes are soft as he looks up at you. “you wouldn’t do that.” and there’s more truth to his words than your playful teasing. for a moment, his expression hardens and his voice softens. “sorry for that, it was mean of me.”
“you’re okay. more importantly,” sliding a hand up the expanse of his chest, you give his cheek a pinch. “you need to get up already.”
the hands at your hips lower to move up and down the tops of your thighs. “c’mon, baby.” he coos the pet name wishfully.
“baby, hm?” your own hands push under his pillow as you lean forward onto his chest, face coming impossibly close to his. his gaze catches yours for a second before your lips are pressing onto his; once, twice, kisses slow and meaningful. you faintly taste like mint toothpaste and his favorite vanilla chapstick.
to his imminent dismay, you draw away from him, though not without a protesting whine beneath you. before he can sweet talk you into staying ‘just a little longer’, your voice whispers softly by his ear something even matsukawa can’t resist.
“if you get up now, i’ll let you shower with me.”
© mattsumaki. do not translate, repost, or redistribute in any way on any platform.
tags : gn!reader, fluff, romantic relationship, pet names (handsome), 0.2k words
thinking about boyfriend!kuroo who, though is very skilled in the art of flustering, is equally — if not more — stunned when the affection and compliments are turned on him. i love and see him having this flirty, suave personality. but i also can’t help but love the complete opposite.
he likes to think it’s hard to get him stuttering and red in the cheeks, and it can certainly be quite the challenge to beat. but other times, all it takes is a kiss on his lips in front of his friends, or laughing at his stupid jokes, or swapping out ‘tetsu’ for a sweet ‘handsome’ and suddenly he’s forgotten how to speak.
the teasing that ensues from you and his friends alike only deepens the blush spreading down his neck and to the tips of his ears. and he’ll dismiss it with a laugh like you didn’t just make his heart skip over several beats. but you know it did; you can tell by the way his eyes can’t quite meet yours and how he squeezes your hand a little tighter in his grasp.
when it hits particularly hard, he’ll try to one up you with an arm circling around your waist to bring you flush against him. his voice is soft and low as he lays it on thick; well, thicker than usual. it’s become a game of sorts between you to see who can fluster the other quicker. he’s yet to beat your solid two week streak. a part of him doesn’t mind, because the permanent lovesick smile on his face isn’t from all your honeyed words and flirtatious touches. it’s there because of you.
© mattsumaki. do not translate, repost, or redistribute in any way on any platform.
tags : gn!reader, fluff, romantic relationship, cursing, pet names (baby), 0.1k words
thinking about girlfriend!saeko whose love language is smacking your ass. like, say, you’re bending over at the waist to grab something off the floor, like a sock or whatever, and she just so happens to be walking behind you at that exact moment. one glance in your direction, one glance at your bottoms tightly stretching over your ass, and her hand is smacking it.
or, let’s say, you’re not bent over? she’s still smacking it. you could be in the kitchen doing whatever you’re doing — cooking at the stove, washing dishes at the sink, grabbing something from the cupboards, whatever — and you’re oh so amazing girlfriend will pass you and just…smack that ass.
your reaction is her favorite part; shocked, annoyed, angry, embarrassed, does not matter. she will grin all proud and giggle to herself, happy as can be. she’s not all that mean, though. every time she does it, she makes sure to give the spot she smacked a nice little pat (like that’ll make it feel better). plus, an extra kiss on the cheek and flirty, “you’re looking extra good today, baby.”
© mattsumaki. do not translate, repost, or redistribute in any way on any platform.
tags : fluff, unspecified relationship, edited repost, 0.3k words (inspired by @cermeru <3)
there are many words that one can use to describe bakugo katsuki. hot-headed is the first to come to mind at the mere mention of his name. there’s also loud, arrogant, and even callous. though not the kindest of words, they aren’t too far off from the truth; his presence is something hard to ignore when he steps into a room.
but they’re not the only ones that can be used to describe him.
he’s also warm, thoughtful, soft-hearted, and patient when he tries his best to be. these traits certainly don’t stand out as proudly and obnoxiously as the others do. rather, they express themselves in subtler ways.
when the tense weight of his shoulders drops, if only for a short time. when the crease in his brows melts away and the scrunch of his nose smoothens. when the toothy snarl that twists up his mouth softens to a relaxed, barely there smile. when the raging wildfire in his vermillion eyes settles to a calmer flicker of candlelight.
in the moments you share alone together, the softer parts of him shine brighter. you can see it in how his tightly bawled fists uncurl to feel the light trace of your fingertips on his palms. how he smiles to himself when you play with his spiked hair, something he’ll never openly admit he enjoys. how he handles you with the utmost tender touch, as if he’s scared to harm or frighten you if he’s too rough.
bakugo katsuki is rough around the edges, brash, and stubborn to a fault. but he can be just as determined, loving, and gentle as the less than favorable parts of himself. there is much more to him than what people see on the surface.
© mattsumaki — do not translate, repost, modify, plagiarize, or redistribute in any way on any platform
i told myself i was gonna write some winter fic by christmas…that ain’t happenin’
