You Look Just Like A Dream

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.

Enamel Pins

The Clever Clove on Etsy

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 :)

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 ❤︎

HAIKYUU BOYS + FAVORITE SPOTS TO KISS

feat. bokuto kōtarō, oikawa tōru, iwaizumi hajime, miya atsumu, kuroo tetsurō, kageyama tobio

warnings. a lil bit suggestive <3 a lot suggestive in iwa's <3 don't mind me <3

BOKUTO loves to kiss the tip of your nose. it's quick—all soft laughter and shared breaths and the pads of his thumbs catching the balls of your cheeks. you can see his eyes flutter over your face, feel the heaviness of his gaze—and suddenly, his lips meet the top of your head, and side of your cheek, and then, finally, your nose. he mutters soft praises into your skin—a smile stretching across scorching flesh—and you join him in bubbling laughter before pulling him in to return the favor.

OIKAWA kisses your shoulder. it's a swirl in the dead of night and the spark of newborn mornings, lips meeting the planes of your skin as sheets pool at your hips. his arm snakes around your waist and you slide across the mattress—drinking in floral shampoos and the warmth of adjoining limbs. he starts just below your neck, and soft breaths spill across your back, each movement leaving goosebumps to swarm in his wake. he mumbles gentle words and soft whispers, the vibrato of his voice nearly swallowing you whole.

IWAIZUMI kisses your collar. it's for the reaction more than anything else—an obsession with the way your breath hilts and neck turns and the sputter of goosebumps that follow the brush of his teeth against your skin. his hand steadies your jaw, pressing calloused fingers into the warmth of your cheeks as the smile against your throat sparks flames beneath your skin. he leaves bubbling bruises in a mosaic of purples and blues, and when he pulls away, meeting your wide eyes and stunted breaths, his mind echos with a yearning for more.

ATSUMU kisses your palms. he fiddles with your fingers—hands dancing along the divots of your knuckles and the arches of your wrists—before he guides you towards his lips, leaving soft breaths to slip through your fingertips. he presses a kiss to your palm and every nerve in your body seems to shiver at the motion, pulling you further towards the allure of the stars that seem to dot his breath. it's a casual motion—one slipped into quiet conversation and comfortable silence—but a welcomed one nevertheless.

KUROO kisses your jaw. it's the freedom of it all—the grasp he has upon your skin and the idea of roaming any plane of flesh or curve of muscle he would like. your hands are in his hair and his fingers leave crescent marks upon your hips, his breath swallowing every pore marking his path. he kisses the arch of your neck and revels in the way you shiver—swallows the heat of sputtering breaths and burning skin. and when you pull away with flushed cheeks and wide eyes, he laughs, tugging you closer once again.

KAGEYAMA kisses your lips. it's simple, really—long fingers wrapped around the base of your neck and shared breaths twirling between staggered throats. he tugs at your bottom lip and nudges at your waist and, when the space between you grows to nothing more than tiny patches of exposed skin, you're consumed by the vibrato of empty lungs. he pulls away—swollen lips and warm cheeks on full display—and you laugh, leaving a smile to stretch across his features.

reblogs/interaction is always appreciated ❀