Ship: iwaizumi hajime / oikawa tooru Fandom: haikyuu Major tags: sexual content Other tags: food (oikawa is eating a rocket popsicle), language Word count: 568
love this classic summer look.
***
Summers are awful. Iwaizumi maybe loves summers best.
Oikawa has finally finished the white section of his popsicle to move onto the blue one and Iwaizumi has been painfully hard for almost ten minutes now. Ten minutes of the worst boner he swears he’s ever had in his, quite frankly, rather prolific teenage career of boners, feels like a lifetime when everything is this hot and sweaty and awful.The cicadas are noisy as fuck, and Iwaizumi is pretty sure the street pavement is hot enough to melt through his sneakers, and every time he looks over he wonders if there’s a word to describe the immense anger and regret he feels. Oikawa looks too good with his lips suctioning slowly around the popsicle, his eyes hazy with the heat. Iwaizumi can’t remember when Oikawa became this pretty. Has he always been this pretty. Summer is truly awful and Iwaizumi wants to die, maybe.
“Melting, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa mumbles around the stupid thing in his mouth as he waves a lazy hand at the neglected popsicle that Iwaizumi is holding, and the way his damp bangs stick to his forehead despite the little mint hairclip that pins them back makes Iwaizumi want to either jump into the goddamn ocean or grip that little wild tuft of hair that’s sticking straight up and... and what. He’s never even kissed anybody in his entire goddamn life. Iwaizumi stares straight ahead. They’re sitting on the curb by the corner store under the sparse shade of a single, sad looking tree, and Iwaizumi is glad for the way he can spread his knees and let the loose fabric of his shorts drape carefully.
He takes a careful lick of his popsicle and tries to think of it only as a popsicle. “Shut up, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi grunts half-heartedly. Sweat sticks to the inside of his thighs and everything feels too tight and the inside of his boxers are damp with all kinds of things he doesn’t want to think about, either. Iwaizumi is somewhere between miserable and in love. It’s probably the same thing at this point, and god, it’s fucking hot today. There’s a droplet of sweat that’s making its slow, careful slide down the side of Oikawa’s neck, and Iwaizumi can’t stop staring at the elegant arch of his best friend’s throat, and he settles on the feeling of being completely miserable. Completely in love.
“So are you even going to eat that at all,” Oikawa asks as he finishes his popsicle with one last suck. “Or can I have it.” His mouth is pink from the red section of the popsicle and his tongue is now bright blue, and Iwaizumi doesn’t think he can get any hotter in this dumb stupid idiot summer heat, but the moment he idly wonders if the blue on Oikawa’s tongue would rub off on sweat-slicked skin, he feels himself flush red and burning hot all the way down into his chest.
Oikawa’s eyes narrow. “Iwa-chan,” he smiles, and that smile is so sweet and sharp and knowing, Iwaizumi wants to just punch him right in between those beautiful summer heat eyes. “You can share with Oikawa-san you know.” Oikawa slowly touches his blue tongue to his pink lips and looks him right in the eye.
Iwaizumi just glares right back, and burning hot, sticks the remainder of his popsicle into his mouth all at once.
FILL: TEAM KAGEYAMA TOBIO/OIKAWA TOORU, T
Fandom: haikyuu
Major tags: sexual content
Other tags: food (oikawa is eating a rocket popsicle), language
Word count: 568
love this classic summer look.
***
Summers are awful. Iwaizumi maybe loves summers best.
Oikawa has finally finished the white section of his popsicle to move onto the blue one and Iwaizumi has been painfully hard for almost ten minutes now. Ten minutes of the worst boner he swears he’s ever had in his, quite frankly, rather prolific teenage career of boners, feels like a lifetime when everything is this hot and sweaty and awful.The cicadas are noisy as fuck, and Iwaizumi is pretty sure the street pavement is hot enough to melt through his sneakers, and every time he looks over he wonders if there’s a word to describe the immense anger and regret he feels. Oikawa looks too good with his lips suctioning slowly around the popsicle, his eyes hazy with the heat. Iwaizumi can’t remember when Oikawa became this pretty. Has he always been this pretty. Summer is truly awful and Iwaizumi wants to die, maybe.
“Melting, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa mumbles around the stupid thing in his mouth as he waves a lazy hand at the neglected popsicle that Iwaizumi is holding, and the way his damp bangs stick to his forehead despite the little mint hairclip that pins them back makes Iwaizumi want to either jump into the goddamn ocean or grip that little wild tuft of hair that’s sticking straight up and... and what. He’s never even kissed anybody in his entire goddamn life. Iwaizumi stares straight ahead. They’re sitting on the curb by the corner store under the sparse shade of a single, sad looking tree, and Iwaizumi is glad for the way he can spread his knees and let the loose fabric of his shorts drape carefully.
He takes a careful lick of his popsicle and tries to think of it only as a popsicle. “Shut up, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi grunts half-heartedly. Sweat sticks to the inside of his thighs and everything feels too tight and the inside of his boxers are damp with all kinds of things he doesn’t want to think about, either. Iwaizumi is somewhere between miserable and in love. It’s probably the same thing at this point, and god, it’s fucking hot today. There’s a droplet of sweat that’s making its slow, careful slide down the side of Oikawa’s neck, and Iwaizumi can’t stop staring at the elegant arch of his best friend’s throat, and he settles on the feeling of being completely miserable. Completely in love.
“So are you even going to eat that at all,” Oikawa asks as he finishes his popsicle with one last suck. “Or can I have it.” His mouth is pink from the red section of the popsicle and his tongue is now bright blue, and Iwaizumi doesn’t think he can get any hotter in this dumb stupid idiot summer heat, but the moment he idly wonders if the blue on Oikawa’s tongue would rub off on sweat-slicked skin, he feels himself flush red and burning hot all the way down into his chest.
Oikawa’s eyes narrow. “Iwa-chan,” he smiles, and that smile is so sweet and sharp and knowing, Iwaizumi wants to just punch him right in between those beautiful summer heat eyes. “You can share with Oikawa-san you know.” Oikawa slowly touches his blue tongue to his pink lips and looks him right in the eye.
Iwaizumi just glares right back, and burning hot, sticks the remainder of his popsicle into his mouth all at once.