Iwaizumishand Hurts.

iwaizumi’s hand hurts.

if he’s honest, he doesn’t remember exactly what happened, it’s not much more than a blur of you—the color of your hair, the sound of your voice, your shaky fingers raising around his arm. he got angry, he wanted to punch the guy, he did punch the guy, and then he was being pulled away from the party and into his own apartment, just a few doors down.

you’d stumbled for his keys, reaching a hand into his back pocket where you knew he kept them, and he’d watched—a little pathetically holding his hand while he waited—and let you unlock the door for him.

and then you’d tugged him inside, told him to sit on his kitchen counter, and went rooting around in his freezer.

and now, his mind is still a little blurry, but you’re standing in front of him and cradling his hand in a bag of frozen peas, and you’re shaking your head at him and mumbling something that sounds an awful lot like a scolding.

and he hates that you look so pretty right now, that, when you’re being drenched in the yellow light of his apartment, when the moonlight can’t even reach you from his blinds, when your brows are creased together and you’re biting at your lip like you’re holding back things that are much worse than what you’ve already been saying (and unfortunately for him, he hasn’t really been listening to those things, so he knows he isn't making it better for himself).

but you look pretty. despite everything, despite the way you sigh when you look at him, despite the fact that you’re his best friend.

“iwa,” you say, tone a little sharp. he snaps back then, gaze finding yours, and he realizes that the way you were biting your lip before wasn’t to stop yourself from saying something worse, but to hold back a smile.

and oh, you’re awful at that.

“are you even listening to me?” you ask, and you sound upset, but then you’re smiling up at him and he isn’t ignorant to the way your fingers twine around his. if he asked, he’s sure you’d say you’re just testing to make sure they don’t hurt. he’s not sure he’d believe you now.

“no,” he replies, “no, i wasn’t.”

you roll your eyes and sigh at him, but you also bow your head towards him until your hair just barely brushes his hand, and he realizes something awful as his fingers curl towards you, as they bend to your will and as he bends to your beck and call—as he wishes to curl his fingers around the curve of your jaw and rise of your cheeks.

he likes you, in the worst, most inconvenient way, he likes you.

and at the time, he hadn’t known why he punched the guy, had only known that the way he was looking at you and the way he kept pushing you to come with him had made iwaizumi angry.

and maybe he should’ve known when you looked so pretty, should’ve known when you smiled at him and he felt the way his own lips tugged upwards in an automatic reply, should’ve known when he texted you first thing when he was out of his classes and should’ve known when he couldn’t be with someone else without thinking of you.

he’s stupid, irredeemably so, but he likes you.

“i don’t know why i try with you,” you say with another little sigh as you bring your head back up, hands still never leaving his.

(he knows it’s for the damn frozen peas, he chooses to think otherwise).

“you know,” you begin, turning his hand in your palm, watching the way bruises bloom over his knuckles. “i could’ve handled it.”

he doesn’t speak, but he raises a brow at you, a little amused smirk pressing creases into his cheeks. you meet his gaze with a little roll of your eyes.

“okay, okay, no. i wouldn’t have handled it. stop looking at me like that.” he laughs at that one, and he doesn’t miss the way you smile at him. “but you didn’t have to do it.”

“and i did it anyway.”

“but you didn’t have to.”

and iwaizumi, irredeemably stupid, irredeemably head over heels for you, knows he didn’t have to punch the guy. he knows well enough that he could’ve just told him to back off, that he’s done it before, that he could’ve dragged you away and thrown some choice words back at him.

so he shrugs, a terrible blush collecting at the tips of his ears that makes him want to press the frozen peas there instead of his throbbing hand, and just looks at you.

“i didn’t like the way he was talking to you. that’s all.”

there’s a little silence that follows his breath, and, for a moment, he’s sure that there’s something you want to say, something on the tip of your tongue that you can’t quite let escape your lips. instead of saying anything though, you look down towards his hand, trace your finger over the knuckles and drag with it the cold water that’s melted onto his hand. you press one of your fingers into the bruises and he winces, hissing a little at the pressure.

“stupid,” you mumble.

“the other guy’s worse than me,” he says, and you laugh again, a weak little thing—hardly more than a rush of breath past your lips.

“i don’t think the other guy is holding peas to his hand right now.”

“good thing i’m not either. that’s what i have you for.” you narrow your eyes at him, leaning forward to swat his arm with the back your hand, but he catches it with his left hand before you ever make contact. “and i’m pretty sure i broke his nose.”

“you definitely did,” you say, a little lighter, a little laughter mixing with the syllables.

and then there’s another bit of silence that chases after your laughter, another moment of your fingers tracing patterns against his skin, of your eyes flitting over his face like you’re looking for something that even he couldn’t find.

he likes you—too much, so much that right now, he can only think about kissing you, can only think about bringing his hand to your jaw and guiding your lips to his. he wants to kiss you as badly as he wants to breathe, wants to kiss you as badly as he wants the throbbing in his hand to stop, wants to kiss you as badly as he wants to listen to your laugh and watch the curve of your smile.

“hey-”

he doesn’t finish the sentence, because next thing he knows you’re leaning up to him, abandoning the frozen peas to instead cradle his face in your hands. they’re cold against his skin, but they’re you and you’re sweet and gentle and suddenly your lips are on his and you’re kissing him for the first time.

and he’s being surrounded by everything that’s you, the smell of your citrus shampoo and your honey perfume, the taste of your mint chapstick on his lips, the feeling of your fingertips across his cheekbones and his along his jaw.

you go to pull away and he raises his left hand to your cheek, pulling you back into him because hell if he’s going to let this end early. he feels the way you laugh into him, feels the pull of your smile against his lips and god he’s going to fall for you.

when you do pull away, when he moves so his forehead is leaned against yours, so he can feel the fanning of your breath against his skin, he hears you whisper.

“you didn’t have to punch him,” you say, and when he goes to protest, you kiss him again, just for a moment to shut him up, “but thank you anyway.”

and then you kiss him for a third time, and iwaizumi decides he’d punch as many guys as needed just to feel this again.

(he doesn’t have to, you’ll kiss him as many times as he allows).

reblogs and interaction are super appreciated ❤︎

split | suna rintarou

pairing: suna x reader

tags: fluff, friends to strangers to lovers

word count: 2.0k

in which you and suna both miss your flight back to tokyo and you find yourself confiding in an old friend as you wait for the morning to come

for @sxphilia - lol shay you read this already but here, ily <33

everything seemed to be going wrong today.

first, your alarm wasn’t set properly so you woke up an hour late. second, your taxi to the airport arrived late, which only led to you inevitably missing your flight back to tokyo. and to top it all off, the next flight was four hours from now. it certainly wasn’t a big deal, you’re expected back at work the day after you arrive anyway. but there’s been a lot on your mind recently, a debate you just wanted to solve, yet it only seemed like you could start working on it when you arrived back in tokyo. so at the moment, all the what ifs and scenarios just marinated in your head, waiting for some kind of decision to be made.

and your current situation did absolutely nothing to help.

you were leaving america to return home from tokyo. you were there for a prospective job, finally having the chance to follow the career you spent years dreaming about. but japan was your home, and america was so far. you lived in tokyo all your life, your friends, your family, everything was back in japan. you were at a crossroads, unsure of which path to choose.

your old life, or the career of your dreams.

and your vacation only made the choice worse.

the flight attendant nods apologetically again when he hands you your ticket. “thanks,” you nod.

“of course,” he replies, “have a nice day.”

“you too.” but as you walk off a familiar voice makes you freeze in your tracks.

“yes hi, i just missed my flight is there any flight i can take instead?”

you hear the flight attendant’s voice, “yes, of course. where are you going sir?”

“tokyo,” he replies, and your heart drops.

that’s not who you think it is, is it?

“i’ve got a flight at 6 pm tonight,” the flight attendant answers.

wait, that’s your flight.

“sounds good,” and you can hear a hint of disappointment in the familiar voice, turning around to face the desk again.

“alright sir,” the flight attendant nods. “let me just print out your ticket.”

the boy doesn’t turn around, yet his stature, his hair, it just looks so familiar, and before you know it, you’re stepping closer wanting to indulge and curiosity and see the boy.

“thanks,” he replies before his eyes find yours.

it’s him.

“y/n?”

“suna?”

Keep reading

yuta who likes to take ur hand and have you feel how hard you make him, sweetly reminding you “see baby, look what you do to me. ‘s all yours” before proceeding to mould your walls to the shape of his cock </3

yuta who almost exclusively refers to his cock as your cock </3

yuta who likes to let you suck on his fingers as he fucks into you. sometimes you’re able to feel his ring tracing your lips when he decides to be a little crueler, unexpectedly shoving his fingers further inside your throat just to hear you whine </3

yuta who fucks you stupid but makes sure his words are always so gentle, even as he’s telling you how dumb you look drooling at the end of his cock his words are dripping with honey </3

yuta who physically has to restrain himself when he hears you whining that he’s too big. he knows you can take it, you always take him so well, but he can’t help but take advantage of the opportunity to tease you just a little bit. he’ll fuck you with barely half of his cock till you finally ask for more, kissing your tears away as he apologies for being mean (he is absolutely not sorry) (okay maybe just a little bit) </3

His head was pressed between your thighs, the warmth lulling him to sleep. Your hands coursed through his hair, your fingers brushing off his small knots. Turning his head to make himself comfortable, he noticed something. “Babe have you always had these ?”, he asked, his index finger ever so lightly tracing your stretch mark, immediately making you jolt. “Oh- yeah! I- it’s always been there”, you mumbled quickly, pulling the blanket to cover your bare legs. “I’ve always had these and I didn’t want to tell you because…well it’s not something to be proud of”, you voice came out dull. This however shattered his heart. His hands went back to your thighs, fingers now fully tracing your stretch marks. “I think they’re sexy”, he grins, leaning down to press kisses all over your thighs. “They’re beautiful baby, it makes your thighs look ever more gorgeous”, he smiles, going back to the same spot between your thighs. “Really…you don’t think they’re weird ?”, your surprise was full evident in your tone. “Nope. And I think you should start loving them too. Because, trust me when I say this, they’re beautiful”, he whispered.

MATSUKAWA ISSEI, KUROO TETSUROU, BOKUTO KOUTAROU, IWAIZUMI HAJIME, TENDOU SATORI, SAKUSA KIYOOMI, MIYA ATSUMU, MIYA OSAMU, Kageyama Tobio, Tsukishima Kei, Akaashi Keiji, TOORU OIKAWA

this girl in my class was sobbing since morning cuz some girls told her stretch marks were ugly and it’s weird. And the urge i had to just drag those bitches and pull their hair out was insane. stretch marks are beautiful bro wtf. i have got some too and i just stare at em and admire em. it’s called self love :) and you should do that too. in conclusion, screw what others say :)

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐔𝐓

— Bokuto Kotaro, Kozume Kenma, Sakusa Kiyoomi, Iwaizumi Hajime, Akaashi Keiji x f!reader

cw. oral, fingering, squirting, 69, face sitting — rbs are appreciated — m.list

BOKUTO KOTARO

When he’d told you after a grueling practice with the team that he needed something good to eat you didn’t think you’d find yourself with your thighs pinned open, your knees pressed to your chest and his tongue buried in your creamy cunt.

“Ko, please,” you sob, your body twitching when he hums in response, just watching you with his golden eyes as he sucks on your clit, pressing his tongue to the bud when you pull his hair.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head when a harder lick makes your nub throb against his tongue, “yeah cumming huh” he coos against your folds, rubbing two fingers on your upper wall.

He almost cum in his boxers when you squirt in his face, your cum running down his chin as he runs a hand through his hair and pulls his fingers away from your sensitive pussy, “that was hot, pretty” he moans wiping the lower part of his face with the back of his hand.

Bokuto smiles satisfied as you slump down on the pillows, his eyes bright as he licks his fingers and pulls his fat hard cock out of his boxers, “you can do that here too, pretty.”

Keep reading

You Look Just Like a Dream…

… the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen

Hajime Iwaizumi x reader

haikyuu mlist

“Sometimes, I look at you and I think, ‘wow, I can’t believe you’re real,’ y’know?”

You pause, turning away from the tv to find him already gazing at you; watching you as someone who had never seen the sky would watch the sunset.

It was rare for him to say things like that, so affectionate and sweet. Iwaizumi had always been on the shyer side, the type that struggles with communicating how he truly feels. To you, it was an endearing trait, how he stumbled and fumbled, and flustered over such small little things to the point he could barely get anything to fall from his mouth.

Of course, you knew he loved you, it was something he showed you every day: periodic texts throughout the day reminding you to eat, making your favourite food on bad days, doing your laundry when you didn’t have the time, coming home with small gifts that he knew you would like. The list is endless. Iwaizumi was amazing at showing you how much he loved you… but hearing it… hearing it when you knew how hard vulnerability was for him? Fuck, it set you alight; something that should very much be considered a natural wonder of the world.

Smiling up at him from where you were nestled into his chest, you kiss the underside of his jaw before mumbling, “why thank you, baby. What brought this on?”

He sighs, closing his eyes bashfully as he lightly glides his hand up and down your spine, “I just think you’re beautiful, on the inside and out, so beautiful that it almost seems impossible” — he takes a stuttered breath, to calm himself down from the rambling — “and well beautiful people deserve to know that they’re beautiful... but only if they’re you.”

Giggling at the way his words practically tickle your heart, you quickly straddle his lap, littering soft pecks across his pretty face. He groans at the onslaught of affection, exasperated as his hands fall tight on your waist, but you can see the faint hints of a smile as you continue kissing his sun-kissed skin. You knew what he meant by that, how he felt he didn’t tell you how much he cared enough — it was a ruthless insecurity of his stemming from times where people said he was unapproachable and rude. It was a shame he felt as though he was somehow not loving enough, especially when loving was all Hajime ever was. It wasn’t his fault that his way of doing so was just unique outside of the movies.

Breaking away, slightly breathless, you stare deeply into his eyes and try your best to count all the flecks of gold as you state, “you’re beautiful too, Hajime Iwaizumi, the most prettiest, most beautifulest, most handsomest man I have ever seen.”

And it was the truth, you meant every single word. In fact, there were perhaps not enough words to describe just how perfect he was to you, never enough for you to say — although you would make sure that he would hear every last one, for the rest of your lives together. After all, you were lucky to have him by your side, even though he would deny it, claiming that the lucky one was him instead.

There was just something about him that was so irreplaceable, so utterly unique, like a work of art. He was gorgeous, there was no denying that because Hajime looked like a dream… but it was his personality that seemed as though it was formed from pure stardust; fiery, hot, and admired for all the magic it held.

Booping your nose, Iwa raises an eyebrow teasingly, “hmm, you think so? Even more handsome than Chris Evans?”

A soft smile takes over your face, so full of love — a love that you could only ever feel with the man before you. Stroking his cheeks with the pads of your thumbs, you place a gentle kiss to his lips before saying, “even more handsome than Chris Evans, baby.”

There was never a competition. Iwa never had to worry about other people, even Chris Evans, because he was all you ever wanted; with his determination, cute frown, and godzilla obsession, Hajime Iwaizumi was a dream come true.

Leaning down, you kiss along his face until you reach his right ear before dramatically whispering, “though keep this between us when I say that I think you have better arms than him anyway.”

His laugh that follows is pure and sweet, the prettiest sound you have ever heard in your life. It floods your apartment, decorating every room and open space with happiness. You loved his laugh, you wish you could hear it more often.

Once he calms, Iwaizumi smiles dopily at you — mirroring your own smile you imagine — before shaking his head, “ok, baby. If Chris Evans ever asks I’ll say nothing about how you prefer my arms to his.”

“Hmm, good. Can’t have him knowing the truth, Haji. He’d be absolutely heartbroken.”

And as you watch the joy dance across his face, you cannot help but think that never have you been more in love than now, with Hajime Iwaizumi — the most beautiful, most prettiest, and most handsome man you have ever seen.