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jeanbeaux · 3 years

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SATIVA

iwaizumi hajime x f!reader

w/c: 1.5k

warnings: 18+/minors dni/smut, cockwarming, (legal) drug use, characters are 22 in this, features college iwa bc furudate did not give us enough of him and various characters that i chose are also going to uci post time skip

a/n: its gemini szn yall which means its the season of my favorite pussy pounder and my bestie @aiiwa (hbd my love ❤️❤️❤️) anyways this is my first hq piece so i hope y’all enjoy. much luv to my beta readers @asahiswrld & @smoochiesdiarie, and yes, this was inspired by sativa by jhene aiko

Even after twenty-two trips around the sun, it’s safe to say that Iwaizumi Hajime is not a party person. He’s the designated driver, the one you can depend on. His routine is to nurse a beer or two to stay lucid for some pong games, his usual bedtime being pushed back when he helps cart all his friends back to their respective dorms after a night of hitting shots. He’s been getting away with this since freshman year, nobody challenging the presence of the designated dad friend.

Too bad the jig was finally up when the party was about him.

It’s his turn in the spotlight, and he’s never felt more out of place. He’s smiling sheepishly as he stands in front of the cactus shaped cake; Mattsun said it’s because of his hair, but he has a feeling its a thinly veiled dick joke. His cheeks are growing redder as the crowd continues to sing Happy Birthday off key, Tanaka smacking him on the back at the end of each lyric. He loves and appreciates everyone here, he really does, but he knows that June 10th was the perfect occasion for his friends to throw a rager at Ushijima’s beach house that they would enjoy more than him.

And when he finally blows those candles out, the spotlight shifts again — the quick round of celebratory cheers dying out to the sounds of Saeko goading Akiteru into letting her take a body shot and Makki drunkenly duetting Terushima to Dick by Starboi3 on the patio. In the midst of all this chaos, he finds his lifeline — you — making your way to the middle of the middle of the room to with a tightly rolled blunt between your manicured fingers.

“Nice hat,” you giggle, flicking the brim of the feathered cowboy hat resting on his dark locks.

“Oh, thank you,” he smiles back. “Shittykawa’s always saying that pink was my color. Enjoying the party so far?”

“Oh yeah. Who wouldn’t have fun seeing the stoic Iwaizumi Hajime get a little shy?”

His cheeks tint once again, and you can’t help but notice that Oikawa really did have a point about pink being his color. “I hope that’s not all you’re here for. Shy Hajime is clocking out for the night pretty soon.”

“Boooo, I had a birthday present and everything for him too,” you pout, waving the blunt in front of his face. “I guess I can share it with the regular old Hajime if he wants.”

“He might be down for that.”

“Then do you want to get out of here? People won’t mind if I steal the birthday boy away, would they?”

Iwaizumi cracks a smile in response. “I doubt they’ll even notice.”

Sure enough, the both of you slip through the french doors with ease, giggling as you pad through the sand to head over to his car. At first glance, nobody would have ever expected that straight-laced Iwaizumi Hajime would be the type to mess around with the devil’s lettuce. You certainly hadn’t, as you were originally smoking buddies with Makki and Mattsun, a bond created to unwind after the brutality of organic chemistry exams. Iwaizumi was just the third roommate, the one who grunted a hello as he headed to the gym while the three of you indulged in your munchies on the couch. All that changed when you had walked in on him taking a hit from the three foot beaker bong they had set up in the living room — clouds gathering in the glass in between his toned thighs. He’d greeted you with a lazy smile and waved you over to the couch to join him, offering the tube to you. It was the first time you had seen him without a furrowed brow, the first time seeing him without the stress of the world he always seemed to carry on his shoulders. In that moment, you felt like you were meeting him all over again, finally introduced to who Iwaizumi Hajime was when he relaxed.

Whenever you smoked with Makki and Mattsun, there was always something that went awry, like Mattsun attempting to order twelve pizzas with a Seth Rogen impersonation or Makki having the urge to unscrew all the doorknobs in the apartment. But with Iwaizumi, it was different. It was peaceful, the comfortable silence you two shared occasionally broken by a giggle and a dumb observation. Makki and Mattsun had noticed the dynamic you two had was different when you smoked, and more often than not they had been slipping out of the apartment to leave you two alone before pantomiming a lewd gesture before making their way out the door. But that envelope had never been pushed, and you were okay with that, but that pit at the bottom of your stomach was starting to grow more at the thought of just being solely a smoking buddy to him.

You finally reach Iwaizumi’s Camry for him to open the passenger side door for you before rounding toward the driver’s seat. He ends up with his chest nearly crashing into the wheel with how far the seat is pushed up, earning a laugh from you as he sheepishly explains how he’s been borrowing his aunt’s car for the time being and hasn’t been able to get the seat unstuck. You decide to forgo the height joke that had been sitting on your tongue, it’s his birthday after all, and lean over the console to hand him the lit blunt. You watch as he brings it to his mouth and takes a deep inhale, the striped button down shirt rising as his lungs expand, and eventually, the smoke curls past his pursed lips in a slow exhale, and it’s a miracle that he doesn’t see you practically drooling at the sight as he passes the blunt back to you. This routine continues for a while, the inside of the car growing foggier with every hit you take as your playlist goes on softly in the background. The both of you are laughing as you try to mimic the beat drops with your hands, fingers brushing past each other occasionally starting a fire that licks down your veins.

“Oh,” he remarks, looking at the shrinking blunt between his fingers. “We’re almost out.”

“Well, the last hit should go to you, consider it a gift,” you say.

“Why don’t we share?”

“Share?” The word feels heavy in your mouth, the drugs clouding what he could possibly be alluding to.

“Yeah, share. Look at me,” Iwaizumi rests both elbows on the console, face hovering inches away from yours as he begins to exhale the smoke in your face.

“Iwa,” you giggle, batting the clouds away, “I think we need to be a little closer to pull that off.” You pluck the blunt from his fingers and inhale, leaning in to where your noses brush past each other and breathe into his mouth. “Did that work?” Your heart is trying to work it’s way out of your chest with how hard it’s beating.

“No,” he admits, “Can we get closer?”

“Please.” The word all but rushes out of you.

He puts a hand on your jaw to tilt your face, lips slotting against yours as he pulls you into a kiss. He’s stroking his thumb gently against your cheek, and in that moment, you wonder how you aren’t just melting into the seat, melting into him. He pulls away briefly, whispering, “I forgot the smoke that time.”

“I didn’t mind it,” you smile back. Iwaizumi moves back to lean in the driver's seat, gripping the handle and pushing it back with a loud shove. Then he’s helping you out of the passenger side, the large hands on your waist guiding you as your knees bracket his thighs. His mouth finds his way back to yours, and you grind back down against his growing bulge as his hands move underneath your skirt to give your ass a tight squeeze. He groans against your lips when he starts to feel how wet you are against his jeans, and you can feel the timbre of his voice radiating in your bones, causing you to whimper in response. His fingers start playing with the waistband of your underwear, waiting for you to give the word before he takes things any further.

“Hajime, please,” you beg, “I need you.” That’s all it takes to make the lace snap swiftly beneath his grip, tossing your ruined panties to the side before shoving his jeans and boxers down his thighs. You both moan at how his shaft is pressed against your cunt, he’s so close to you, so impossibly close, but it’s still not enough. He’s moving your hips across his length to coat himself in your slick, helping you rise on your knees so he can line himself up with your entrance. His fingers rub soft circles against your clit as you sink yourself down on him, murmuring about just how well you are taking him. He’s filling you up better than you could have ever imagined, and you let out the breath you didn’t even know you were holding when you’ve finally taken him to the hilt. He picks up the forgotten blunt, inhaling sharply before exhaling once again into your parted and waiting lips.

“Think we finally got close enough?” he asks. The way he looks back at you expectantly makes you realize how he’s been waiting for this to happen just as long as you have, making you break out in a dopey grin before you respond.

“Yeah, I think this is the perfect distance.”

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