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 ❤︎

iwaizumi brainrot hours 😩

MINORS DON'T INTERACT

You didn’t think that giving a flirtatious smile to your boyfriend on your way home from a party would land you in this situation.

But here you are, with Iwaizumi’s hips slamming into your own and your palms pressed against the car window, your moans filling the small space. His shirt is partially unbuttoned, tie loose around his neck as he fucks you senseless, groans spilling out of his lips at the sight of his cock disappearing into your dripping cunt, walls soft and clenching around his length.

“Ah, shit. You’re so pretty, y/n…” his calloused hands grip your waist tightly as he continues thrusting into you at a pace that has you practically drooling. He moves one of his hands up your back, tracing between your shoulder blades and knotting his fingers into your hair, tugging it slightly.

“R-right there…” You head is spinning and you can barely form coherent thoughts, the only thing on your mind is Iwaizumi, and how his cock is hitting that one spot inside of you that sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

“You gonna cum, pretty baby?” You can hear the strain is Iwa’s voice, and you nod your head, hands curling into fists against the window as you feel your high approaching. Every inch of your body feels like it’s lit up with a vibrating electricity, and you can barely remain upright as your orgasm hits you, legs shaking and sounds of pleasure leaving your lips.

“Fuck.” You feel Iwa’s load spill inside of you as his grip on your waist tightens. Leaning over, he kisses down your back as you both catch your breath.

“Hopefully no one was walking by at this hour.” He helps you back into your dress, cradling your form and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I doubt it, Iwa.” You lean into his touch, letting out a small sigh. “Not that you care, do you?”

“Not at all. People should see themselves as lucky if they even get a glimpse of you.” Taking your hand, he assists you in getting back into the front seat, and he starts the car.

“Let’s just go home. I’m exhausted.” Your eyes flutter shut and your head rests against the window, and you can’t help the sleep that overtakes you as Iwa drives you both back home.

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 ❀

— HQ BOYS + TAKING CARE OF THEM

feat. iwaizumi hajime, kuroo tetsurō, suna rintarō, miya atsumu, miya osamu, matsukawa issei

note. let me be ur housewife. also don't say anything abt how long osamu's is.... i like him.

IWAIZUMI lets you join him in the shower on nights when he comes home late, when his breath smells a bit like scotch and his smile is lopsided in a way that you both know means midnight. he's all hushed drunken laughter, soap cascading down rippling shoulders as he leans down to press a sweet kiss to your collarbone. he'll whisper that you don't have to do this, the soft mumbling of go to bed crossing his tongue. and yet, you never do. instead, you lean up, shampoo in your hands, and let him hum as your fingers tangle in his hair.

KUROO lets you tie his tie. it's in the mornings, kisses drawn from the rising sun and touches soft enough to meld with the linens that once draped your bodies. he'll stand in front of you, suit, grin, and all, even when you're still dressed in the hanging fabric of your nightgown and your hair is still a tangled mess around your shoulders and face. but, no matter, because you'll reach up, delicate fingers around strong silk, and tie it just for him. and when you do, he'll cup your jaw in his hand just so he can kiss you one more time.

SUNA would never dare ask, but when you find him laying on the couch, face resting down on his arms and shirt riding up just enough so you can see his back, you can't help but let you nails follow the length of his spine. he shifts as though to lean into your touch, closing his eyes and breathing in a breath that almost feels like divinity. and if you stop, should you dare, he guides your hand back to him, ignoring the laughter that bubbles up past your lips and closing his eyes in sweet solace.

ATSUMU lets you dye his hair. or bleach it, rather, and then tone it when he finally lets you convince him. oh and how he's awful, moving and laughing and dodging out of the way of the cold dye even when it's dripping off of your gloved hands. he'll meet your gaze in the mirror, lopsided smirk carved into his cheeks, before putting his hands up in surrender. then, and only then, will he sit still, letting your hands comb through his hair with that stupid grin still on his face.

OSAMU finds you writing down notes for him. if he's cooking, he might change a recipe, speaking aloud as he adds a different spice or substitutes an ingredient, and each time, you'll write it down, scrawling handwriting with a little comment of whether he liked the change or not. other times, he'll come home to notes around the house—little reminders of why you're gone or what you need him to do before you get home. but his most favorite ones, and the ones he keeps locked away in drawers or hidden beneath clothes and old jewelry boxes, are the benign ones. little i loves you's scratched on napkins, drawings left on old gum wrappers from high school, sticky notes covered in old games you used to play to pass the time. he holds them like they're something to keep, an extension of you in the best way possible.

MATSUKAWA comes home to his laundry folded, or half-folded, at least, the rest of it still in the hamper or your hands. he'll roll his eyes, hands already at your waist and fingers dashing along your hips until laughter floats from your chest and into the air. when he tries to help you, you'll swat at his hand, your narrowed eyes drawing out a grin onto his face. so instead, he'll sit, tell you about his day and ramble about the things he misses (your voice, mostly, or your hair, or the scrunch of your nose), and each one will be met with the teasing lilt of tone that he's come to only associate with you.

— haikyuu boys as campus crushes

(gn!reader) | iwaizumi, bokuto, akaashi, atsumu, suna, sakusa

note from nia: my classes got moved online until the end of february so i will live vicariously through my own writing! </3 (not proofread lolol)

✧* IWAIZUMI bumps into you after leaving the gym causing your notebooks to fall and drink to spill. he mutters a curse before apologizing and bending down, offering to buy you something at the café nearby that he likes. your hands brush against each other while you reach for the same stray paper, and if you weren't so flustered maybe you would have noticed the pink dusting his own cheeks. he makes small talk on your way there, asking for your name and where you were headed, telling you about his classes and how his workout went. he pays for your drink and seems unsure of what to do after handing it to you. having mercy (and not wanting to take up more of his time), you thank him and he offers another apology before starting to leave. when you joke and say "hope you don't run into anybody else. don't want to spend more money, do you?" he blinks before laughing, "yeah, guess so. wasn't too bad meeting you, though." you can't help walking by the gym the next day, hoping to catch him on his way out again.

✧* BOKUTO isn't hard to spot at the main quad. it's the beginning of the year club fair and he's charming everyone who walks by, despite any lack of initial interest. you aren't an exception, you realize, when he spots you and flashes a big grin, "hey! d'you wanna hear about the volleyball club?" he tells you the basics and boasts about how good they are, how hard he's been training himself. he even offers to spike a ball for you, backing up into a bigger area with another player. everyone around claps after he hits the ball with ease, but he turns to you for your reaction first. his friend pokes him, a signal that he's been talking to you long enough, and he pouts a little before realizing he did have a job to do. "i—we'd love to see you at tryouts!" he says. when you show up, maybe not for the club, but to see a specific white and black haired player, the same smile reaches his face as he jogs over. you're not sure if his flushed face is because of warm-ups or something else.

✧* AKAASHI is the well-dressed guy sitting by the window of a coffee shop, notes strewn in front of him and fingers typing away. he looks away from his screen and stretches, finally taking a break. as he glances around, he can't help but make eye contact with somebody at the table in front of him. his face flushes as you turn away and he decides the people walking outside are more interesting. but after a dozen more glances, a few close calls of being caught, 20 minutes of overthinking, and a text from his friend saying "GO TALK TO THEM!!! >:(", he starts shifting to get out of his seat—all before his heart drop as he watches you get up to leave. he keeps coming back, about to accept he'll never have another chance until he spots you a few days later. when you get back from a washroom break you notice a sticky note next to your drink with a phone number, user, and smiley face scribbled down. you look around and see the same cute guy from before watching your reaction, blushing then scribbling notes down a few seats away.

✧* ATSUMU is the guy who sneaks into class just late enough to have missed the first slide of notes, sliding into the empty seat next to you. he wouldn't have been so loud if it wasn't just the prof speaking, his noisy jacket, and backpack hitting the floor. he sheepishly taps on your desk to get your attention, holding a laptop charger for you to plug in. you think that'll be your last interaction for a while until you watch him start up a game (valorant, probably) and take out a bag of gummies. he's chewing on one when he notices you looking from the corner of his eye and he turns the bag so you can grab one. you spend the rest of the lecture switching between trying to pay attention to the professor and holding in your laugh as he dies again. he sends a joking glare your way and hastily switches to a tab to write "do YOU wanna try then??" in the search bar. you're pretty sure everyone around you turned when he snorts at your panicked rejection. after class ends and you pass his charger, he doesn't forget to turn around and say "see ya next class!"

✧* SUNA replies to your question in the class discord about a project due date. he makes a comment about the prof's bad teaching style in the safest way possible to avoid getting in trouble, sending a friend request after you laugh and agree. as soon as you accept, he dm's and says "our prof is complete ass lmao." instead of dropping the class you make a deal to stay and get a good grade purely out of spite—the loser would buy lunch at the end of the semester. you become each other's class life lines. the semester's filled with complaining, loopy 2am conversations, working through questions, secret looks when the prof said something incoherent, and high-fives. the first time you decide to sit together, you didn't expect him to be that attractive when he poked your shoulder and you turned around, though you can't really complain. he sends "😐🖕" when you get your final grades then immediately asks when to meet up. you have a sneaking feeling he tried harder with his outfit than usual, but he just teasingly sighs, "i guess i owe you a lunch?"

✧* SAKUSA sits alone at the last table with free seats in the library during finals season. he watches you pace around, trying to find an empty spot with no luck. he stares until you look in his direction then moves his things out of the way for you to take a seat diagonal from him—it's far enough that you won't bother each other, he thinks. you whisper a small "thank you" while placing your things down and he nods before returning to his project. his thought was proven to be wrong three times. once when you excuse yourself to plug in your phone by the port next to him, another time when his pencil accidentally rolls against your things and he mutters an apology, and a third when you both look up and at each other at the same time. you offer an awkward but sincere smile, and his eyes widen before he clears his throat and looks away. despite it all, he's at the same table the next day, and he moves his things again when you walk towards him.