#MWAH SO GOOD | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luvring · 4 months

Text

THE MOST ATTRACTIVE PERSON IN THE ROOM

timeskip iwaizumi x gn!reader ft. msby + osamu, akaashi | 1.5k words, swearing, implied alcohol, suggestive?

“okay, iwaizumi, i dare you to…” hinata drawls, tapping the wooden floor beneath him—the beat of the song that he’s gotten stuck in everyone’s heads today, you note.

“hmmm….”

“this is why we can’t play truth or dare with you, shoyo.” atsumu groans, though there’s a lopsided smile that accompanies it, before taking a sip of his drink. condensation drips down the side and he wipes it with the sleeve of his jacket.

“as if you didn’t steal my dare idea last turn!”

“can’t steal somethin’ that was never yours in the first place.”

“huh? i literally said it out loud.”

“i thought it before y’said it.”

“what?!”

“holy shit, get back to the dare.” osamu snorts and throws a pillow at their heads. “’m gonna have to retire by the time hinata comes up with 3 syllables.”

you laugh softly from your spot on the couch above. hajime snickers next to you, his arm hanging loosely above you.

not around you, of course. just above, on the couch, close enough to brush your head every time you lean a little too far back—which is why you’ve curled further into the edge instead, feet tucked under the throw blanket you had gifted hinata a few months earlier.

emboldened by the conversation as distraction, you let your eyes shift to loom at him. his cheeks are flushed, and eyes crinkled as he watches his team in amusement. there’s an almost empty drink in his left hand, more clinking ice than beverage. but he brings it to his lips to take another sip, and you watch, and you wish you could stop watching, but your eyes seem fixated on his lips as they meet the edge of his glass, and the way his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.

the sound of bickering is muffled, and you should look away, really, it’d be embarrassing if he caught you, but he’s scratching the side of his neck, and he looks really good, and—

“okay, fine, iwaizumi.” hinata brings your focus back to the room and stares with sudden determination. “i dare you to kiss the most attractive person in the room.”

the two stare at each other. no immediate snarky remark or laughter follows.

you blink.

you think everyone blinks, actually.

your eyes flicker to hajime again, and you watch his mouth again, though this time it opens and closes twice, three times, as if words would appear if it silently lured them. “...i—what?”

“pfft—”

“don’t feel like getting kissed tonight, sorry, bro. alright, bo, you’re up next, right?”

“oh! yeah, wait, we’re skipping iwa?”

“oh, shut up, ’tsumu, like yer dumbass is the most attractive person in here.”

“i am, actually. objectively, even.”

“you have a twin, atsumu.”

“not seein’ your point here ’kaashi?”

“y’callin’ me ugly?”

“technically jus’ less attractive, but yeah, yer ugly.”

“guys,” you warn. you think bokuto’s still confused on who’s turn it is, while osamu’s put his drink down and sitting up straighter. “drop it. and hajime, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“yeah, but you’ll have to take a shot,” atsumu interjects.

“thought you as the self-proclaimed ‘most attractive person’ were gonna stop him anyway. was he supposed t’drink a shot if he picked ya?”

“no, we would’ve both taken shots.”

hajime raises a brow. “what? as the guy who’s supposed to have the dare—what the hell kind of logic is that? you know what—”

he lets out an exasperated sigh and moves his arm from behind you to rest on his thigh. and it’s not like it was touching you in the first place, but the vacancy makes the back of your neck feel a little colder. “fuck it, i’m tipsy enough.”

“fine, y’can kiss my cheek—”

“i’m not kissing you, atsumu,” hajime just less than growls.

atsumu puts his hands up in surrender while hinata snickers, and you think osamu’s building up to an “i told you so,” but you’re too busy watching the man next to you to really know.

there’s tension in his shoulders as he places his glass on his coaster—one of two that have actually been used, the other drinks leaving rings of water in their place. it’s a wonder that hinata has any in the first place.

your eyes move from his leg that’s started to bounce, to his hands that start to fiddle with the watch on his wrist, and then his mouth where he bites a lip.

and then they move up again, just a little higher, to his eyes—

which are already set on you.

neither of you say anything. but then his eyes flicker down to your lips, and a quick heat builds in your face, your ears, your neck. something in you thinks it must be a joke, but hajime’s already flushed face turns more red, and the (big) part of you that has a crush on him is just a little happy it seems to be because of you.

there’s no time to process that further though, his silence is enough to get the attention of the others anticipating his choice.

atsumu only looks between the both of you for a second before clapping his hands together. “ohh, ohoho—”

“ooh, iwa!”

“huh? ohh—”

“can you guys be normal for 2 minutes?” sakusa sighs and leans back into his chair, deciding to stare at the ceiling instead of his teammates if only for a moment. “and if you two are going to kiss, can you do it faster before my brain shuts down?”

“rude.”

hajime ignores them and clears his throat before facing you properly, shifting so one leg is propped on the couch underneath him. taking it as your cue, you sit up and collect your blanket to one side.

the room hasn’t been this quiet since you arrived first and offered to help set up. but it isn’t suffocating—the quiet is a buzz, and seems to sit in anticipation just as much as you.

“can i?” hajime asks softly.

you nod, your only hesitation is in wondering if he’s serious.

but even a little hesitation is enough. his lips purse, and a concerned crinkle appears between hajime’s brows that you almost want to reach to smooth out, its existence, you promise, unnecessary. he says your name. “seriously, we don’t have to if you don’t feel comfortable.”

you’re shaking your head before he’s done his sentence. “it’s okay, haji.”

“ooh, haji—”

“shuddup, ’tsumu.”

“is it weird i feel awkward watching this?”

“aw, c’mon, ’ji, they’re cute.”

the conversation is an odd comfort as it dulls the sharp attention on you, the tension your body seems to hold everywhere.

hajime moves closer, shrinking the gap between you until your legs touch and you can count the inches between you on two hands. his cologne is easy to notice, and you wish you could pinpoint the fragrant notes, maybe write them down in your head to look for later. (you wonder if that's a weird thing to do.)

the lips your eyes had lingered on maybe a dozen times just tonight are a lot easier to watch as his tongue pokes out to lick them. subconsciously, you do the same.

then a hand comes up, hesitates before finding place on your cheek, and you let yourself lean into its touch. it’s odd—how you wished the arm behind you on the couch would accidentally move a little closer just a few minutes ago, and now your face is being held instead. you wonder if you could ever get used to it.

for a split (embarrassing) second, you even let yourself wonder what it would be like to wake up to the same touch and owner in bed beside you.

hajime looks at you, and you smile when your eyes lock. and maybe it’s your own drink kicking in, but you reach for his free hand to lace your fingers in between his as you nod once more, look at his lips one more time.

his chest rises as he takes a deep breath.

“seriously, guys, if ya don’t kiss already ’samu’s gonna start going bald.”

“the fuck?”

you can’t help the laugh that escapes you or the warm breath that hits hajime’s skin, nor can you fully get rid of the smile on your face as hajime murmurs what sounds like a “for fuck’s sake,” beneath one of his own and leans in.

and then he kisses you.

and you think there’s cheering, clapping and something about losing a bet on who’d kiss who first.

but it doesn’t matter—not while you’re finally finding out how soft hajime’s lips are, while his grip on your hand tightens, while his thumb rubs your skin and fingers moves closer to the back of your neck to pull you closer, closer.

your free hand comes to wrap around his shoulder, and he lets go of the other to reach around your back. somewhere in the back of your head you wonder how long (how deep?) a kiss is acceptable in front of an audience, but you can hear, feel, hajime take a deep breath as he pulls you close enough that his chest is pressed against yours, and you think the others can look away themselves when it’s too much—there’s someone more important to you.

me after writing atsumu myself: wow he's so funny silly stupid 🫶 mann i don’t necessarily Want to know about perfumes and alcohol until i’m writing a fic and go ah. what the hell is a good scent. like girl what is Cedarwood ? not everyone can smell like..mint and vanilla. and how am i supposed to know what this guy would drink when all i’ve had is soju with raspberry gingerale / mango concentrate. which is rlly good btw. yummy...

🏷️| @devilgirlcrybabiey @lordbugs @smiithys @xfangirl-trashx @passionateuchiha @scaramouchesfootstool @fifteenshadesofpinkk @chloee0x0 @kenmaslov3r @bakugosgrenade @dai-tsukki-desu @Thathoneybee3 @momoewn @aintgeluh @dazaisfavgf @simpforerenn @crystal-lilac @vhenis @omiigad @kur0-kawa @semispilledcoffee @idontlikeyourjob @sparrowb3nscloset @awkwardaardvarkforever @rory-cakes @prblmtic @kuroaka @sunaslay @h0n3ysgh0st @lackey-laufeyson @bontensbabygirl @dira333 @spooky1magazine1bread @Kamukayakmonyet @danyisapingu @isentsworld @lilithlunas @anime-ships-gay @todorokiskitten @kellesvt @tooruchiiscribs @curiouslilbeast @fiona782 @cvhenia @mitskiologist @libbyistired @milkbreadforlife @itsukkie @sirimirihiro @mylahrins @aria-chikage @heyitstial @akari-fujikawa

#haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x gn!reader #writing kisses is so. yknow ud think w the amnt of fluff i write id get it by now. i dont though unfortunately. its always a little awkward #ouaahhhh.....whatever... he kisses u soo good he goes smoochy kiss kiss mwah smooch mwah #bkak r together in this in my mind btw. my cutiepies...

1K notes · View notes

teddybeartoji · 2 months

Text

it's not often you get to see a sleepy suguru.

it's not like he's not tired – he's fucking exhausted; the dreams just don't seem to like him all that much. but he's usually toughing it out, trying to seem as composed and put-together as possible. the dark skin underneath his eyes betray him, though.

so you don't really know why today is different. is he just more tired? have all of the sleepless hours caught up with him? or is it just you; could it be that your body is the most comfortable place to rest his heavy head? or is it your perfume that's soothing him to sleep?

or is it the fingers in his hair?

he doesn't really let others play with his hair too ofter either. satoru and shoko had been the only exceptions but that was before you came along. satoru uses his hair as a stim, something to play with when he's bored. suguru has taught him manners though – a few slaps against satoru's fingers and chest to remind him to be more careful. and shoko is just more likely to brush a strand from his eyes or help him tie them up in a half-assed bun whenever his own hands are full with whatever.

you like playing with hair, always have and always will. it's relaxing and it's fun and it's calming and you love it. when you first met suguru, his hair was the second thing you noticed about him (his keen purple eyes being the first). an irresistible itch burned in your fingertips everytime you saw him, everytime he wore his hair down. it just looked so pretty and soft.

he takes very good care of his hair, you know that much. specific shampoos and conditioners, masks and all – he's all in. and nobody bats an eye. not that they should but satoru definitely gets made fun of because of his stupidly expensive collection of figurines and shoko gets teased for her silly mug shelf – and yet, neither of them ever comment on the bottles and tubs of fancy products that lay on his bathroom counter.

his hair also smells good. the compliment always hangs on the tip of your tongue but stays hidden in fear of coming off too weird. too creepy. but he doesn smell good. even with closed eyes and ears and you'd find him in a crowd. you wonder whether he knows that.

as you grew closer and closer, the now scorching itch only doubled in need. you never did gather the strenght to outwardly ask him – if you could play with his hair? if you could caress it? comb through it? it was an accident.

a simple gloomy friday afternoon: you're both lazing on your couch, staring at the screen. it's funny – you find yourself muffling your already quiet bursts of laughter, suguru alongside you. he's sitting close by, closer than usual. you don't ask him about it.

he asked to come over; something-something about being sick of his own apartment. you understand that, so you tell him that your home is his home (you'd tell him that even if you didn't understand). you hear the faint smile when he thanks you over the phone.

even when he looks like he hasn't slept in months – he looks good. you can tell he's overexaggerating his smile a bit but don't say anything about it, rewarding him with a grin of your own. his eyes flick to your lips and how they curve and he thinks about how warm it feels to look at you. maybe he's not exaggerating anymore.

your arms open wide, inviting him into you and he obliges, as always. he smells good. as always.

his hands lock behind your back and your behind his neck. your hearts meet and they greet each other with a fastened beat, eager to be in sync – to feel each other again.

he pulls back and the corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles. he's not doing it anymore and you're happy to relieve him even if it's for mere moments.

he's wearing a sweather and his hair is down. he has lip gloss on; you try to think whether he's more of a mint guy or more of a shea guy. it remains a mystery.

and now you're on the couch with two cups of warm tea waiting for you on the small table. he smells good. he's so close. he snickers at the screen and you can't take your eyes off of him. it's the same small crinkle of the eyes and the faintest pink tint on his cheeks.

you know he knows that you're looking at him. you've been told to have a staring problem and he's just an observant guy. it's a terrible match. or a perfect one.

he doesn't say anything though; instead he leans his head back and little to the side against the headrest (he's even closer now) and you find yourself shifting an inch aswell. perhaps magnets are involved? the iron in your blood pulling you together?

no, that can't be. you'd have to be polar opposites for that to work. warm-blooded and cold-blooded? would that work? you're getting too poetic and he's looking at you now.

it's an accident. it slips out on its own. you smell good. caught off guard by your own comment, you're about to apologize when a hand on your thigh almost makes you suffocate on the words stuck in your throat.

he laughs and it feels so good. he thanks you. he means it, you see it in his tired eyes. he likes the way you blush.

turning his focus back to the tv, you try to collect yourself. a deep breath in and a deep one out and a deep one in and a de—

a weight on your shoulder. he smells so good. he's so close. you peek down, curious as to whether this is a dream or not. but suguru's head is in fact laid on your body, sinking a bit more into you by the second. a deep breath in and a deep one out.

seeking for a more comfortable position, you snuggle closer to him. it's hard to focus but you're making it your sole mission to make him feel safe. your arm curls around his body, his shoulder, and rests right by a flock of his hair.

his cheek is now smushed against the top of your chest and the weight of love doesn't seem as bad as everyone keeps telling you. his hand finds a place around your waist; loosely – as if he's the one who's afraid to scare you off. silly.

his breath against you feels right and the butterflies in your stomach refuse to calm down. so you do what you always do when you get nervous – completely on their own, your fingers caress his hair. just smoothing over it at first but before you know it, they're combing through a strand and twirling the ends between themselves.

you wanna apologize, again, but the soft little grunt that emits from the man keeps you from doing so.

don't stop.

+ this is for @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat just bc it feels right

405 notes · View notes