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.

— suna bf texts

cw: suggestive (last 2 photos)

app: memimessage (for my fellow android users 😚)

hi @devilgirlcrybabiey lolBDJSJS

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꒰ bokuto kōtarō ✕ face riding ꒱

contains ; f!reader , ball sucking , mutual masturbation , daddy kink , praise , + ahegao .

note ; i’ll be reposting some lil drabbles because i was going through the old blog and found some gems that i want to bring over here !! ૮ ˃̵֊ ˂̵ ა

“are you sure?” his voice is strained, holding back whimpers and whines as he hovers over your face, thighs twitching in anticipation.

your eyes are fixated on his leaking cock and heavy balls that hang right above your nose, his musky scent filling your nostrils.

“i’m sure,” you answer, breathless. “i’ll tap your hip twice if i need a break, promise.”

that last bit of reassurance is all bokuto needs to finally let go and lower his balls into your wet mouth. no matter how many times you’ve practiced, how many hours you’ve spent training your jaw, you’re still barely able to take both of his heavy balls at once. even so, you hollow your cheeks and suck lightly, but it’s more than enough to make him moan.

“f-fuck baby, so fuckin’ good-”

you hum in response as he lowers himself a bit more, your nose pressed against the base of his thick cock. the weight of it resting on your face is almost enough to make you cum, but he quickly reminds you of the cute little egg vibrator buried deep in your cunt, turning the speed to max and causing you to moan loudly around the heavy sack.

“mmf–!”

“i know baby, feels good–”

he wraps a hand around his cock, just above where your nose is pressed against him and starts stroking himself– slowly, as if he’s savoring every second. from your place below him, you watch as he brings his hand up to his mouth and pucker his lips slightly, spitting into his hand and bringing it back to his cock, letting out another deep groan as his spit-coated hand drags across his shaft, squeezing harder as he gets to the head to gather to precum at the tip.

“such a good girl for me, sucking daddy’s balls like that–”

bokuto’s praise is always so filthy and vulgar, so much so your face burns like a shy virgin when you think of it days after.

after managing to open your mouth even further, you take both of his balls into your mouth and suck just the way he likes—slightly more than average pressure with your tongue flattened against them— while focusing on the way he strokes himsef, your eyes crossing every time he twists his wrist at the top of his cock. your perfect mouth paired with the incredibly lewd face you keep making sends him over the edge, pulling his balls out of your mouth with a wet pop!, quickly replacing them with his cock.

“swallow it all for me-”

and you do, of course you do, because no part of you would ever dream of denying him.

“good fuckin’ girl.”

Sundress, no panties, cockwarming, breeding, messy, no condom, public sex with your fave season starts soon.

— 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.

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 :)