#wtf this was so....... soft?? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nanaslutt · 1 year ago

Note

i feel like choso probably wouldn’t have been with many people (maybe anyone) before with him being half-cursed spirit.

what would be be like getting head for the first time?

I’m so glad you asked :3

contains: fem reader, inexperienced!Choso, so much praise, dirty talk, teasing, insecurity, comfort, choso has a crush on reader, first orgasm, he cries from pleasure, soft as hell

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

“You gotta sit still Choso, don’t you know how big you are?” You asked seductively, jerking his hard on while you sat on your knees on the floor in front of him, “You might seriously hurt someone with this thing.. you don’t want that right?” You questioned again. He shook his head, he didn’t wanna hurt anyone, especially not you.

“Good boy, just keep your ass on the bed and i’ll take care of everything.” You reassured, rubbing your hands along his thick thighs soothingly.

—

Choso had no idea how things escalated this quickly, the two of you had gotten dragged into a conversation about your sexual experiences with Gojo, and suddenly here you were, in his room between his legs after he confessed that he had never been touched before.

This situation was something he didn’t even dare dream of, he never thought he was allowed to think of you this way. Choso had talked to Yuuji about how he felt about you, but nothing of this manner, just how cute he thought you looked in your uniform, how nervous you made him whenever you looked his way, the ball of warmth in his stomach whenever you touched him.

He always stopped his thoughts whenever the warm feeling started to drop lower in his pelvis when he saw you stretch your arms above your head before sparing, your stomach rising to reveal your soft looking tummy. Looking away when it had rained during a mission together, the liquid soaking through your shirt, making it see through, where he sometimes got a glimpse of the black bra you wore underneath your clothes.

So when you dragged him aside after the conversation and asked if he wanted you to show him what a blow job felt like, who was he to deny his long-term crush?

—

Your fingers rubbed along his dripping slit, collecting his pre before you stroked the wetness down the length of his cock, making his breath hitch. You had only been touching him for a couple minutes maybe, and he already felt like something was going to come out.

"I- I think I'm ready." He said, his knee bouncing under the weight of your hand, trying to ease his nerves. "Tap my head twice if its too much for you Choso," you smiled sweetly up at him, making him suck in a breath at how beautiful you looked between his thighs combined with the use of his name.

He watched with bated breath as you opened your mouth, your pretty pink tongue darting out and licking the slit of his cock, making his body jerk forward at the contact, "You okay?" you asked in between kitten licks on his head. He nodded, not being able to take his dark eyes off the scene in front of him, "Just feels s-sensitive." He explained.

You giggled before taking his mushroom tip into your mouth and suckling gently, using your tongue to expertly draw circles around it. Choso's breath hitched above you, his jaw dropping open at the feeling of your warm mouth enveloping his cock. This sensation was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. He started getting dizzy when you started bobbing your head slowly, taking more and more of his length into your mouth as you did so.

Was it supposed to feel this intense? Did it always feel like this? He felt like he was losing his mind, like he had taken some drug that made his brain feel like mush, and his body feel like lava.

"I-its so warm, shit.." He cursed, his cock twitching strongly against your tongue as you took him even deeper. He swore he saw stars when he felt you hum around his length, sending delicious vibrations through his balls.

He was unsure of what to do with his hands, they were just digging into the sheets behind him, but every neuron in his brain was telling him to pet your hair. He wanted to touch you so bad, but he didn't know if he was allowed to.

You popped your lips off his cock, replacing it with your hand as you stroked him quicker, nuzzling your head against his thigh and peppering kisses into the skin there. "I, I want to touch you, can I?" He asked shyly, maintaining eye contact with you through his hooded eyes.

"Of course, you can do anything you want Choso." You said smiling, "As long as your hips stay on the bed." You added, going back to taking his cock into your mouth. His hand immediately came to place itself on your head, not putting any pressure on you, instead just resting it there.

His groans increased in volume when you took his cock to the hilt, his fat tip hit the back of your throat, making you gag around him, the feeling of your throat constricting around his dick made his eyes roll back in his head. "S-so good- feels so good," He moaned out, his jaw had gone slack and his eyes were trying their best to stay open and watch the show you were putting on for him.

Choso had to fight his hips to not buck up into your mouth when your throat repeatedly took him in, over and over again he felt his tip hit the back of your throat, and it was almost too much to take. He started feeling that semi familiar warmth coil in his stomach, the feeling being more intense this time around as he panted and heaved loudly, squirming against the sheets.

"A-ah wait s-stop please, p-please," He begged, sighing in relief when you popped your lips off his cock. Choso’s his hand came down to squeeze the base of his cock harshly, to prevent himself from cuming so fast and embarrassing himself in front of you. "Why'd you stop me? Are you okay?" You ask concerned, the hoarseness of your voice being very prevalent from the abuse your throat had taken.

"I uh.. I think I was about to cum." He admitted, giving the base of his cock one last squeeze before he let go of it, letting it twitch in the air between the two of you. “Ohh, Choso,” you laughed lightly, making his face heat up, “I want you to cum, that’s why i’m doing this.” Your beautiful voice rang in his ears.

Although you had just given him permission, he still shook his head, “No?” you asked, tilting your head to the side, confused. “I don’t..” He paused, gathering all the courage in his body before he spoke again, “I don’t wanna cum too quick.” He said, “I’m sure other people you’ve been with have.. lasted l-longer.” he stuttered out.

His words made you bite your bottom lip, suppressing a smile at how cute he could be. You had no idea he was insecure about this kind of thing. “Choso, this is your first time ever being touched, right?” You ask, rubbing comforting patterns into his thigh with one hand while you wrapped your other around his dick again, starting up a slow pace.

He nodded, body jerking at the sudden pleasure starting up again. “Exactly, so your not as used to this kind of this like someone else might be.” You explained, “But this isn’t about anyone else, this is about you and me.” Your words were doing wonders on his self esteem. “I have no expectations from you, i’m not comparing you to a single other soul.” You reassured, stroking him faster now, his eyes fluttered as he soaked in your words.

“O-okay.” He eventually said, making you smile as you repeated the word back to him, before licking his tip once more, “If you feel like you’re gonna cum, just let it out, I got you.” you comforted, taking him back into your throat again.

He hoped his face wasn’t as red as it felt, (it was) as he slapped a big hand over his mouth to conceal his groans and heavy breathing when your bobbing picked up.

There were strings of spit connecting from the base of his cock to your lips, the sight was so erotic. He almost passed out when he felt your fingers expertly massage his wet balls in your soft hands, squeezing them just right, and steadily working him back up to his orgasm.

“Shit- I- Im close again.” He said, his hand dropping from his mouth as he placed it back on your head and gripped it for stability. You moaned out an ‘mhm mhm’ around him in acknowledgment, trying to let him know it was alright. “It f-feels weird.. I think it’s coming-“ He whined, his thighs shaking and abs clenching at his impending high.

You popped off his dick, sticking out your tongue and stroking him quickly, still massaging his heavy balls, “Yesyesyes good boy Choso, let it out, cum for me.” You whined, and that was all the encouragement he needed.

He didn’t think he’d ever felt anything so intense, he fought to keep his eyes open as he released his load all over your face and tongue, feeling your hot breath pant against his length. Tears he didn’t know had been forming dripped down his face as his body curled in on itself, not being able to take such intense pleasure.

“F-fuck ngggh- ffffuck!!” Curses of your name fell from the dark haired man’s lips as his orgasm seemingly went on forever. His body shook and shook with pleasure even after the ropes of cum stopped, you swallowed up everything he gave you, wiping up the cum that landed on your cheeks you popped your finger into your mouth, sucking it off.

You leaned your head forward to leave a soft kiss on his sensitive cockhead, making him whine, before you stood to your feet in front of him.

“Good fucking boy Choso, how did that feel?” You asked, taking his face in your hands and wiping away his tears, his eyes glassed over, his soul still finding his way back into his body as he took in your words.

He just nodded at you, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as he swallowed air into his lungs greedily, “Thank you, t-thank you.” he repeated, wrapping his strong arms around your body. You took the opportunity to sit on his thighs, careful to avoid sitting on his still sensitive but softening cock.

You held his heavy head against your chest, “Thank you~” you giggled, pulling his head away from you and making him look into your eyes, “Felt so good.” he said, shaking his head.

You held his soft cheeks in your hands, before you brought your lips to his head and left a soft kiss against his forehead. “And this is just the beginning.” You replied.

2K notes · View notes

teddybeartoji · 9 months ago

Text

彡 A MASSIVE PILE OF GUILT

☆. contains: tooru oikawa x gn!reader; this is called angst i think (with comfort), reader plays volleyball and oikawa comforts them after they lost a match, reader talks badly about themselves:( i'm sorry, they swear they're just really really good friends but they're also just fucking stupid wc: 4k

in the blink of an eye the loud screams and cheers transform into a disgusting mix of muffled noises in your ears. the lights are too bright and you feel like you're stuck to the ground; stuck under hundreds pairs of eyes. you can't move, you can't breathe. your arm stings, a painfully clear reminder of your fuckup.

you should've had it, you saw it coming, you had a plan and yet - here you are, watching the colorfol ball hit the wall of the big arena with a quiet thud!. your eye twitches, locked onto the missed oppurtunity in a form a sphere sit metres away from you and your teammates.

because of you.

like a statue; turned into stone, you stand in your awkward position, unable to comprehend that it's over. that it's really over. it feels like everybody is looking at you, cursing you in their own heads. is this what drowning feels like? even if you could open your mouth to try and save yourself with a big breath of air, the stifling stench of losing would surely just make you choke harder.

a palm slaps onto your shoulder and you don't have to look at the person to know who it is – a dejected captain trying to pick up their loved teammates. you can't look at them; how could you? they're trying to cheer you up while you're the sole reason you lost in the first place. they give you a squeeze, a silent plea for you to snap out of it and you comply, not wanting to humiliate them any more.

you did well!

an arm around your shoulder, you're being dragged away from the court and you taste blood – the result of biting into the soft skin of your inner cheek in order to surpress a cry. the lights are too bright and you just want out.

after the handshakes and the formalities are done, your coach gives you all a pep talk. not that it helps but what else is there to say right now. you eat in almost complete silence; the only sounds in your ears being the chewing and the crying.

you've yet to do that. your lip wobbles and your eyes are red but so far, no tears. but you know you will – it'll be the only thing you'll be doing after you've locked yourself away into your room.

good game!

you feel sick. the food in your mouth is starting to taste like vomit and the water isn't helping either. still, you refuse to stop. refuse to raise your eyes from your table to ask whether you can leave. you will sit there as long as the others do and you won't complain. you will eat the food just like the others do and you won't complain. you don't get to do that.

the hugs feel just as suffocating as the eyes. you've never felt this bad in your whole entire life. you feel bad for thinking that the hugs feel suffocating – they're literally trying to comfort you and you're blatantly refusing it. stupid. stupid. stupid.

everyone has their own things they do after a loss. some like to be alone, some like to go for a run, some like to beat the fuck out of a punch bag and some like to do watch a comedy film with their teammates. it's silly; none of them laugh during it anyway. but it helps. you know it does because you've done it with them – not this time though. and they don't pressure you; they're not stupid, they understand how it feels. you need a moment and they will give it to you.

your captain does sit you down for a second before letting you go though, calmly telling you how it wasn't your fault and how you'll get it next time. and it sucks. it sucks that you don't hear it... it sucks that nothing will make this feeling go away. you know it and your captain knows it.

their warm hand resting on your back does soothe the shivers that have been tormenting you ever since you lost the ball. and for the first time since that moment, you crane your neck, raising your heavy head to meet their eyes and now you do feel like crying. the sadness is there, but so is the same warmth, the same adoration one has for their loved ones. nobody is upset with you, nobody blames you. their hand rises from your back and goes up to ruffle your hair as you let your head fall against their chest. "you're okay."

they hold you close as your tears soak their shirt. you hear a loud sigh and you know they're holding back theirs. the shivers are back and you hiccup out a broken i'm sorry, which makes the captain pull away immediately and grab your shoulders.

"don't. it wasn't your fault. it wasn't. you can cry as much as you want but that? you're not allowed to do that." there's a certain determination in their glassy eyes and you have no other choice but to weakly nod your head before letting it fall again.

"by the way, i saw you not eat properly, so i'm keeping an extra eye on you tomorrow morning, okay?" they poke your cheek and you're thankful. "i'm gonna watch the movie with the others but i'm keeping my phone close by, so if you want company at any time, just let me know."

you raise your head back up, desperate to show your appreciation for them and nod again, cracking the world's smallest and saddest smile and they ruffle your hair again before standing up. "you're okay."

they close the door behind them and you take a minute to compose yourself. you can't seem to stop your hands from shaking though and it makes you angry. your now empty room is too quiet and your own reflection in the window is taunting you with an ugly expression. is that really how you look like right now?

you don't wanna know and you don't want to keep looking at it either. so you grab your hoodie and your wallet and make your way to the lobby of the hotel. maybe the reflection in the vending machine won't be so mean.

and it isn't. it's not mean at all. it's the exact opposite actually. from the fact that it's staring at you with rather soft eyes to the fact that it's not your own reflection.

"good game, right?" you scare yourself with your own voice – already so harsh and raspy. it comes out mean and you wince. you tear your eyes from his, focusing on the sweet drink that's locked behind the glass instead.

oikawa is never this quiet and it makes you want to hit him. make a joke. just do it. just do it already. but he doesn't. his steps are quiet as he goes to lean on the vending machine. he's nothing if not observant; he sees your shaky hands pressing the buttons with so much effort; how the lips that are usually pulled into a beautiful grin he loves so much are now wobbling, ready to spill all of your sorrows. your clenched jaw as you try to avoid his gaze for whatever reason.

please, look at me.

the vending machine dings as the mechanics push your drink to you. his eyes are unforgiving and you know he means well. you know he's not gonna make fun of you, he's not gonna tease you – not now. but you still feel ashamed, whether he says the joke or not; the joke has already been made and it's right here, standing in front of a stupid pink vending machine.

your head shakes on it's own, casting shame on yourself on it's own. the drink falls with a loud thud! but before you can kneel down to get it, a hand on your wrist stops you.

his hand is so warm and it's unusual, considering he tends to be cold almost always. he doesn't push you and let's you take a deep breath before you raise your eyes to his.

if his heart wasn't shattered before, it sure is now. your eyes are red and glassy, but mostly tired, so tired. there's no glint in them, dull and sad. his hand slips from your wrist to your palm, intertwining his fingers with yours. "you did well."

your head falls back as you choke out a broken laugh. "oh, fuck off. i don't wanna fucking hear that. it makes me sick." staring at the ceiling, you shake your head again as if to rid of the words from your mind.

oikawa feels useless. he's been in your situation and yet, he can't think of anything good to say. he remembers how much he hated whenever people said that to him after their loss to karosuno. he tries to swallow the lump in his throat; everything he comes up with just makes him feel even more sick. he wants to cry because he doesn't know how to comfort you. how to make it all better.

"do you want me to stay with you?"

that's the best he can come up with. maybe just his presence will be enough when his words clearly aren't. but when you shake your head again, his heart sinks.

"that's alright. let's uh– ... tomorrow, yeah?" bringing your eyes down from the ceiling, you try to give him a reassuring smile that says i'm fine but it obviously doesn't work. you see the hurt in his eyes and you just feel bad. you feel bad for everything. you're upsetting people even off the court. you just can't help it can you?

"i'm good. i just need to be alone right now." you try again, squeezing his hand. his mouth opens but another voice cuts him off.

"oikawa!"

from around the corners emerges an angry looking iwaizumi. "here you fucking are. coach said it's bed time—"

when his eyes travel from his troublesome best friend over to yours, he swallows his words in an instant. you see the remorse wash over his face and you kind of want to laugh. it's all too funny in a fucked up way. "sorry for interrupting. hey, that was a really goo—"

good game!

he stops himself. fuck. what do you say in this situation?

"good game, i know. maybe next time it'll be a great one, hm?" the bitterness just oozes out of you without your consent, making iwaizumi wince. you feel bad.

pulling your hand from oikawa's, you kneel down to finally grab your nearly forgotten drink. "it's okay, really. i know what you mean."

another weak smile. a pathetic one. "see you at breakfast, yeah?"

oikawa shoving iwaizumi is the last thing you see as you're making your way back to your room. your hands still haven't stopped shaking and opening the door is so fucking hard. the key card slips from between your fingers—

breathe... in...

and out...

you kneel down and pick it up in slow motion as you're tunnel visioning on just getting inside the room. you hear the click! and you burst in, slamming the door shut. the ugly reflection is back and it's laughing at you and you can't do it anymore. your knees buckle from under you, hitting the soft carpeted floor as you weep. hunched over, you just look like a big pile of guilt.

clutching at your heart through your shirt, you cry and you cry, taking in raggedy breaths just to let out pathetic little sounds. everything hurts – your knees, your arms, your head, your eyes, your fingers, your legs, your inner cheek. you pretty much crawl to the bathroom, grabbing a handful of tissues before plopping right back down onto the floor. your nose hurts, too.

for almost an hour – you don't move from your spot, rooted and rotting into the carpet. it's pathetic. you think about how the others are watching the movie, shedding tears quietly but together, nonetheless. sick of your own actions, you push yourself up and change your clothes. you even manage to drink some water and wash your face in this half-alive state of being. a+ for effort, huh?

you bury yourself under the blanket, wishing the bed would swallow you whole instead. the tears have returned and you feel the pillow getting wetter and wetter by the second. you don't have it in you to grab another tissue though, letting the feeling of the soaked material remind you of your fuckup.

a floor and a few rooms away, oikawa can't stop pacing around. "but they said they didn't want me to go with them...."

"have you ever considered that people lie, idiot?" a tired iwaizumi replies from underneath his blanket on the bed. "especially in a situation like this. it's not like you were any better, you know."

oikawa just glares at him, although it's very hard for iwaizumi to take him seriously when he's wearing his matching plaid pj set. "but what if they get upset that i didn't listen to them?"

"but don't you wanna go and comfort them?" iwaizumi questions harshly. "don't you wanna be there for them? is your fear of overstepping more important than their well-being right now?"

oikawa thinks of your tired, sad eyes and his fingers twitch. "no."

"obviously, dick. go on, then. you have to be back for breakfast though or i'll punch you." iwaizumi states before turning away from his friend and disappearing completely under the blanket.

"you're so mean, iwa... can you not threathen to punch me every two seconds? i'm trying to be so good." oikawa mutters with a pout, grabbing his phone and his hoodie, ready to be your knight in shining armor. knight in plaid pyjamas more like.

"just go already." his friend grumbles and oikawa gifts him a small bye-bye as he's already halfway out the door. the next thing he knows, he's sprinting through the hallways, thanking himself in his head for making you tell him your room number the second he saw you this morning. he doesn't even take the elevator, instead taking triple steps up the stairs. he's also thanking himself for becoming an athlete.

knock! knock! knock!

dismissing that as just a noise from the room next door, you continue your sniffling but when the knocks repeat in a faster manner, you figure one of your teammates had forgotten their key card. so, ever so slowly you push yourself from the comfort of your bed and head over to the door while trying to wipe the tears from your eyes as to look at least a little bit more composed. you're even ready to crack a joke about them losing the card, desperate to disctract the person behind the door from yourself.

but it's not any of your teammates, nor is it your manager of your coach.

it's your oikawa instead – eyes wide open and slightly panting. "you said you don't want me here but i– fuck, how many steps can be between one floor..." he clutches his hand over his chest, the stupid comment slipping out all on its own.

for a millisecond, for a fraction of time, the corners of your lips turn upward but they fall just as fast back down, leaving you both just standing there, staring at each other.

your eyes look way worse now; way more red, way more tired, way more sad, way more dull than a mere hour ago. he should've come here sooner and he imagines iwaizumi slapping the back of his head for his mistake.

"you said you wanna be alone but i don't care."

his blunt statement catches you a little off-guard, your eyebrows furrowing but oikawa just takes it as a green light. if you didn't want him there, surely you'd tell him that right away but you've been standing here with him for a almost half a minute and nothing.

he takes a step, closing the distance between the two of you. he pushes his glasses up on his nose and fiddles with his own fingers and it's weird again. he's nervous. but this isn't about him – it's about you. whatever he's feeling right now is nothing compared to what you're feeling and he just wants to be here for you.

for a second time today, he watches your bottom lip wobble and your chest rise as you take short sharp breaths. and for a second time today, a pair of eyes feel actually comforting. he's not trying to burn you, he's not trying to take back time and alter your actions. he's merely observing instead of dissecting. he's ready to catch you when you fall.

and you do. it's hard not to when he's standing in front of you and looking at you so fondly. your head falls against his strong chest, hands tucked between your bodies as his firmly wrap around you. he takes another step inside and closes the door behind him with his foot.

he listens to you cry into him, he feels your tears on his shirt and through it, on his skin. your hands grasp onto the material, bunching it up in your fists and he just holds you tighter against him.

"you're gonna win next time, i promise" he murmurs.

but when you just sob out a but i wanted to win this time, his heart aches so bad he thinks he's going to die.

oikawa curses at himself for walking right into that one and this time he swears he feels iwaizumi slap the back of his head for real. but he has no time to pity his poor choice of words when he feels your hands clutching at him just where his heart is.

he whispers a quiet i know and you sniffle again. he starts drawing soothing circles onto your back with his palm and he feels so warm. releasing his shirt from your hold, you snake your hands around his body instead, burrowing your face even more into his chest and you faintly hear him coo. it's the first time ever that he's done it in a genuine way and it's the first time you haven't felt the need to punch him for it.

his hand rests on the back of your head, keeping you in your place as he gently sways the both of you from side to side. "i got you."

after some time, he feels you going slack against him and decides to guide you to the bed. he climbs in with you and safely tucks you into the crook of his neck and lets you cry some more as he whispers it's okay against your temple. he just hopes that he's actually helping, that his words actually have an effect. god, he hopes he's making it at least a bit better for you.

he is. he's doing more than he could ever imagine. the thick goo of guilt and shame seems to be draining out of you when you feel his lips brush against your skin. he just might be washing the it off of you with his quiet praise. his words don't sound condescending nor do they sound fake. he means it when he says that you really did do well.

the tears have dried by now and oikawa can feel your eyelashes fluttering against his neck. the long tiring day is finally catching up to you as your breathing slows. he rests his head on top of yours and presses your body indifinitely closer to his. the tips of his fingers dance across your skin, drawing little circles and hearts as he soaks in the sight of you relaxing against him under the moonlight.

"did..."

your meek voice makes him crane his neck back so he can look at you better, ready to hear out whatever complaint you have, ready to comply to whatever request you have.

"did iwaizumi send you?"

...

"WHAT?" it comes out way louder and in a way higher pitch than he'd intended it to. he immediately clears his throat but his eyebrows are still furrowed. "i wanted to come here, why would you say that..."

he still can't see your face clearly from this angle but the way your body moves, is telling him that this isn't you crying anymore. this is you laughing.

"are you– are you fucking laughing at me right now?" he questions, trying to pry you from his neck to confirm his suspicion. and he's fucking right. when you finally unlatch yourself from his body and roll onto your back, you have the tiniest, smallest smile on your lips and oikawa's mouth falls slack. "i wanted to come! i– i'm a good friend!"

it shouldn't be this funny. it really shouldn't because he is a good friend, isn't he? he's here now, holding you, comforting you; he came to you and you're now making fun of him. but you can't help it, the thought of iwaizumi "lecturing" him is silly in this moment. not that you doubt that he came here only because of that, of course. but knowing him, you just think he probably needed a push to actually do it.

oikawa holds himself up above you, observing the small freckles that adorn your face. your eyes are still red and still tired but... the small little glint is back. the same one that's always there when you make fun of him. or when you laugh.

"i literally ran here and this is how you treat me?"

"you're telling me it took you an hour to run up the stairs? i thought you were a volleyball player, shouldn't your stamina be better–" you poke at his chest (right where his heart is) and he lets out a very loud and a very dramatic gasp. "or did your boyfriend have to convince you to come over and console me?"

oikawa's lips tilt into a smirk, happy to hear you barking at him at last. "first of all, don't ever call him my boyfriend ever again–" he situates himself next to you, so his both hands are free. you should've seen this coming, too. "and second of all, you really oughta treat me better."

before you can taunt him with a good old "or what?", his hands are tickling your sides, fingers dancing along your skin as laughter bubbles up from your throat. you try to fight him off, hands clutching onto his in order to stop his torment but to no avail.

"i am... trying... to be.... a good... friend... and this is... what i get... huh..." he rasps as he continues soaking in the sound of your laughter.

"you're.... always... in it for something... that's not... a... real friend... tooru..." you breathe back with a grin and he stops. he doesn't take his hands off of you though, just resting them on your waist.

"you're spending way too much time with iwaizumi, you're both just so mean to me." he's pouting. oikawa is sitting back on his legs and he's actually pouting.

"am i gonna have to console you now?"

"yes." he deadpans.

...

you push yourself up onto your elbow and lean up to boop his nose. "you're stupid."

"no, you're stupid." he grins back.

he has his ways of getting you out of a slump, he always has. him sitting here on your tiny little bed, pouting and laughing is only merely of them. you couldn't wish for a better friend. his hands feel so warm on you and you're so grateful. sitting up, you slap your hands on his shoulders (which of course, makes him wince in a very over the top way). "thanks for coming, tooru."

he rolls his eyes. "pffft."

...

pfft?

"excuse me?" you glare at him and he decides that you and iwaizumi can never hang out ever again.

"i– i meant– yeah, of course. anything for you." he stutters out as you keep glaring at him. he then leans in closer, so much so that your noses are almost touching. "i'm really proud of you, you know."

heat crawls up from your neck and you feel the tips of your ears warm up, overwhelmed by the sudden genuine praise. but you can't let him have the upper hand. not now, not ever. he'll never let you live it down.

"your breath stinks, you know."

his eyes close with another incredibly dramatic sigh as he rests his forehead against yours but while doing so, he takes notice of your hot skin and the way you giggle, and translates it into your language –

thank you.

247 notes · View notes