Tamaki Amajiki oneshots

Face-sitting

WC: 2154

"I don't think I'll ever recover from that."

Summary: Tamaki really wants you to sit on his face. So you do. 

Includes: smut/teasing

established relationship, F/M, Fem!readerXTamaki, aged-up,

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It's a quiet afternoon. You're sitting on the couch watching a show on low volume occupying your hands by gently playing with Tamaki's hair. He's sitting on the floor before you, working on a thousand-piece puzzle that's been co-opting the coffee table for weeks. It's all very domestic.

Tamaki starts dozing, head tilting back against the couch because of how good your fingers feel against his scalp. And then, he's not sure how, he starts to think about what it would be like if his head was just a little flatter against the couch, if your skirt was just a little shorter, if you would ever consider riding his face.

His cheeks turn red at just the thought and he quickly wrenches himself from your tender grip and hunches over the coffee table, pretending he has figured something out. It's stupid he knows. You probably wouldn't say yes anyway. But he can't help but imagine the feeling of being smothered by your thighs and choked by your juic-

"Tamaki"? Your innocent little voice pierces his daydream like a popped balloon and he twists around to see you making grabby hands. "Give me your head back", you say, eyes on the screen. His mind is back in the gutter even though he knows you're only talking about his hair.

I want you to sit on my face.

He knows that all he has to do is say it out loud. But he also knows he would never live down the rejection. So he's quiet. He lets you play with his hair as these indecent thoughts roll around in his brain. It feels wrong.

"Tamaki, are you okay"? Your fingers go still in his scalp and he abruptly realizes he's been staring into space for who knows how long. He swallows.

I want you to sit on my face.

"Y-yeah. M' good. J-just thinking", he says, stammering over the half-lie. He is thinking. But in no way is he 'good'.

"'Bout what"? You question him, fingers resuming their motions. He stares at the puzzle pieces in front of him, sorted by color.

I want you to sit on my face.

"The puzzle". His voice is shaky and he prays you'll leave it alone. You do not.
"The puzzle is making your face turn red"? You pry, a joyful glint in your eye. Tamaki can't speak so he just nods. You hum, eyes flicking back to the television.

"I want you to sit on my face", Tamaki blurts out, eyes immediately going wide with mortification. He goes rigid. There is no way in hell he's getting out of this. He doesn't turn to face you, staring straight at the puzzle pieces, beginning to count all the purple ones.

"Okay".

Tamaki keeps staring straight ahead. Is that an affirmative 'okay'? Or an acknowledging one? Like, yes I know you want me to sit on your face but that's perverted, you gross, sick—

"Right now? Or..." You're talking again.

Tamaki's mind is spinning. His ears feel so overheated. He turns to look at you finally. Your hands are on his shoulders as you meet his eyes.

"W-what"? Tamaki's voice comes out hoarse. You smile at him gently, giddy and charmed by his request.

"Do you want me to sit on your face now"? You start and instantly Tamaki's face flames up. "Or later"? He lets out a sound that's akin to a squeak. You bite your lip, watching him struggle.