— HAIKYUU BOYS AND THEIR HAIR
feat. bokuto kōtarō, kuroo tetsurō, iwaizumi hajime, akaashi keiji
warnings. uhhh a lil suggestive in iwa's!! but these guys are all stupid and i love them
note. to the anon that requested this: i love you mwah mwah
BOKUTO will ask you to do his hair on those mornings where the sun seems to rise a little slower, when he’s buried his face into the crook of your neck as he wakes, his soft, unspiked hair brushing against your flesh and tickling any bit of skin it touches, the lingering scent of lavender hanging on both of your skin from your shower. when you do make it to the bathroom, he’ll watch as you lift yourself onto the countertop, certain to never entirely let his body leave yours—he still has a hand on your waist as you move—and now he stands between your legs as you work the gel through his hair. and bokuto, somewhere halfway between sleep and wake, will lean into your touch and hum as your fingers near his scalp. don’t fall asleep on me, kou, you’ll whisper, your lips nearing his temple, pressing a kiss to it as you speak. he’ll hum, a tired little thing. wouldn’t dream of it, he’ll reply.
KUROO will look at himself in the mirror some mornings and give you a little glance. it always means the same thing, and soon enough you’re sitting on the bathroom counter with a comb in your hand and his fingers circling your waist. i think we can get that piece down, he’ll say, pointing to somewhere vague on his head, eyes that seem to be almost hopeful looking up at you. we tried to fix that part yesterday, babe, you’ll reply, but you’ll only get a click of his tongue back and feel as he plucks the comb from your fingers. nuh uh, no, he’ll begin, i got this. so you’ll watch as he leans over you to see himself in the mirror, tugging the comb through too many years of bed head to ever really fix it, and laugh when he gives up with a sigh, handing the comb back to you and placing it in your palm. if it makes you feel any better, you say, wrapping your arms around his neck as he does the same to your waist, i happen to like your hair. kuroo sighs, leaning in to mumble against your lips, at least someone does.
IWAIZUMI can come home tired some nights, with aching muscles, the faintest of smiles on his face, and the scent of something sweet still lingering on his tongue. it’s after nights when he’s been out with friends after a long day at work, when he wants to go to bed but feels too gross to just slip into the sheets. on nights like this, you wash iwaizumi’s hair for him. you both slip into the shower, calloused fingers landing on the skin of your waist, warm water falling over tired bodies, and then your delicate hands find their way to his hair. it’s sweet, eyes half closed and lips wandering the expanse of your shoulders and collarbone whenever given the chance—washing away the ache in his bones and the creases that sit between his brows. beneath your fingertips, your hands tangled in his hair, soap laying on your skin, he begins to relax. when you go to move your hands from his scalp, he’ll shake his head, guiding your wrist back up to where it sat. not yet, he’ll mumble into your skin, feels nice. and when laughter slips past your lips, you’ll feel the tug of his smile against your shoulder.
AKAASHI will never ask you to start doing anything to his hair, but when you’re sitting in his lap and your fingers find their way to his scalp, he’s never one to move away. his eyes will flutter shut as your nails run along his head, laughter bubbling from your throat as he leans into your touch, curling into you until his forehead meets your chest. if you’re delicate enough, if you’re light enough with your touch and whisper quietly into his ears, if you lean down and press your lips to the side of his head, you’ll find that he’s almost asleep. you gently guide his chin upwards with just a few fingers and he looks at you through barely-open eyes. why are you stopping? he’ll mumble, voice a little flat, a little hoarse even from just a few moments of rest. just wanted to look at you, you’ll reply, and he’ll hum, burying himself back into the junction of your shoulder and neck. do that later, he’ll say, moving your hands back to his hair.
