summary. your love is pursuing his dreams as a violinmaker in italy, leaving you to wait for his return.
genre. slight angst. fluff. based on whisper of the heart.
warnings. some crying. reader feels lost and alone and like she's not good enough :( not proofread.
pairing. zhanghao x fem!reader.
wc. 1.3k.
request. no.
a/n. tiánxīn = sweetheart btw. ofc hao is already perfect for the role of seiji cause he plays violin (also he looks like seiji fight me). for all the other writers out there (even tho i don't ever plan to get properly published) we all relate to shizuku so much :') her struggles are so relatable and i just love whisper of the heart so much i think its such a beautiful and underrated ghibli movie. divider by @/aquazero.
The night air nipped at your cheeks as thoughts swirled in your head. Hundreds of worries, feelings, and uncertainties followed you wherever you went, and all you could wish was to be back in high school when everything felt a bit easier. Back with Hao to occupy all your thoughts and in turn take your mind off of everything.
Sometimes you wondered if waiting was really worth it. You were doing your best to pursue your dreams, do well in your final year of university, and throw yourself and your work at different publishers, hoping that one liked you enough to give you a chance. But you felt like a constant failure in comparison to your boyfriend. You’d always thought opportunities were more beneficial than school. Hao only seemed to prove that to you.
He was working in Italy, getting valuable skills from the masters. You were still stuck in your hometown, going to the same university everyone else in your family had gone to, trapped in the same system. You wanted to get out, prove yourself, do something meaningful with your life. But did you even have the talent to? Were you even worth it?
On nights where your thoughts just wouldn’t leave you alone, you grabbed a handful of Hao’s letters and walked up the hill back to the spot where you used to watch the sunrise with him. You missed him more than anything. Without his presence, you felt lost. There was no one to ground you, no one to reassure you, no one to believe in your flimsy dreams.
You hadn’t received a new letter in a while, and you were starting to wonder if it was a post issue, or if Hao was too busy to write. You hoped you would get one soon. It was the start of Winter already, and a breeze blew past you, causing a chill to run up your spine. You hugged Hao’s old jacket closer on your body. It must be even colder in Italy…
You slid one of the old letters out from its envelope. You were always careful to keep everything intact. From the colourful wax seals to the elegantly written address, to the coarse texture of the fancy paper, everything about it was precious to you. Hao was always meticulous, and his presence could be felt from every detail of the card.
Tiánxīn, how are things back at home? Lonely.
How is your writing? Did you finish the last 3 chapters you were struggling to write? I finished the final draft last Saturday. Are you proud of me?
I’m doing well here, although I never stop missing you. At least one feeling is mutual.
It’s the beginning of Spring as I write this, and the flowers are starting to bloom. Every pink bud reminds me of you. How are you always so romantic, Zhang Hao?
I taught some kids how to hold a violin properly the other day— one of them almost dropped it. I swear my life flashed before my eyes. If they had broken it, I could’ve gotten kicked out. They don’t know that they’re handling a piece of wood worth thousands of dollars. As much as it scared me in the moment, spending time with the kids cheered me up. Childhood innocence is an endearing thing, don’t you think? It is. Is it bad that I wished you had gotten kicked out just so I could see you sooner? I want you to tell me everything about Italy with your own voice.
I’m starting to find beauty in things that used to annoy me. It’s a strange feeling, but I think I could get used to it. The flowers used to only make me sneeze, but now they’re a gentle reminder of who I’m living every day for. Children used to get on my nerves, but now I can only think of your baby pictures. I keep working hard every day hoping that I’ll get a break to come visit soon. I’ve been saving up for tickets. Hopefully before Winter, I’ll be back in your arms. It’s Winter now… I miss your arms around me.
Ever yours,
Hao
You could only sigh and blink back the tears that had formed on your waterline. Why did he make you miss him so much? You sniffed, from the emotions and from the cold. It was getting even later in the night, and while you didn’t want to leave your special spot, you also needed sleep.
When you got back to your cheap apartment, you sprayed some of Hao’s perfume on your pillow and changed into pyjamas. It was funny how much time went into hunting for the exact fragrance he wore; but you had been thankful for it every single day since you bought it. Any way you could to bring traces of him back to your home was worth it. You fell asleep hugging the pillow tightly and hoping that he would grace you in your dreams.
A soft puff of air hit your nose making you scrunch it up. It woke you out of your slumber, but not enough to open your eyes yet. You were in a confused bleary state trying to figure out where it came from. You definitely didn’t leave the fan on in the middle of Winter, so why…?
“Tiánxīn, wake up.”
You blinked your eyes open slowly, furrowing your eyebrows as the view came into focus. Light from the morning sun shone through the window, cascading down until it hit the side of a face. Hao’s face.
“Am I still dreaming?” You whispered. A lump formed in your throat at the thought that you were— you must be. How could he be right in front of you? He was still far away in Italy.
He shook his head, a smile splayed on his lips. He moved closer, his weight dipping down on the bed. You could only stare, memorising everything about him. His eyelashes fluttered as his gaze dropped to your hand and he reached to hold it. His hands were warm and the skin of his palm was soft, although his fingertips were roughened by calluses after years of playing strings. He cupped your cheek with his other hand, brushing his thumb against your skin.
“I missed you. I’m sorry it took so long for me to come visit.” He frowned slightly as he saw tears start to build in your eyes. You squeezed his hand, as if still deciphering whether he was actually real. It had truly been years since he had first gone for his apprenticeship and then got accepted full time to make violins and teach. Although you had communicated through letters, it could never compare to being with him like this.
“It’s okay.” You tried to steady your voice, force the lump in your throat down, blink back the tears. But you couldn’t with him right there.
“Don’t cry.” He wiped your tears carefully, his touch soft as always.
“Kiss me. Please?”
And he obliged. He would always do anything within his power to see you happy. If you told him one day to fly to the moon and bring you back a piece of it, he was sure he would find a way, just to see you smile. The feeling of kissing him again was indescribable. You’d forgotten how it felt to be kissed by his soft lips, how they melded with yours like a dream. As if you two were meant to be.
You knew you always were. Your love story, although it sometimes felt tragic, was like something out of a fairytale. You would never forget the lengths Hao went just to get your attention. How ambitious, determined, and caring he was. He was your constant motivation to keep striving to be better.
It was hard to live for your dream while being so far apart from him. Part of you knew that he would have to go back. Maybe in a month, maybe in only a week. Maybe sooner than that. Your heart would break once again saying goodbye to him.
But, for now, as he kissed you in the morning sunlight on your bed, you felt your heart healing from his touch. The long years away from him were a small price to pay for moments as precious as these.
↳ zerobaseone taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @okshu,, @chewryy,, @haecien,, @sobun1est,,
⋆˙⟡ zbully1 smut series masterlist! hanbin, jiwoong, hao, matthew, and taerae included. game day (group) chapter here. all 7 endings here.
⋆˙⟡ wc: 2.8k
⋆˙⟡ reader: femme afab (listed first, she/her are used a couple times) // gender neutral (alternate version listed second, no pronouns used at all to describe reader— scroll down)
⋆˙⟡ series summary: five bullies. six days. it's gonna be a hell of a week, babe. stay hydrated.
⋆˙⟡ tuesday summary: happy tuesday, you know what that means: two straight hours of wind ensemble. and it's made even more enjoyable by first chair, zhang hao, chewing you out for every mistake you make. he's been quiet today though. it's making your skin crawl. can you manage to get out unscathed?
⋆˙⟡ warnings: explicit smut. 18+. minors do not interact. please read specific smut warnings under the cut! swearing. angst. dub-con. bullying. stuck up, tattletale hao. this is a doozy. you'll be glad we took it easy monday. smut in gn and fem versions are substantially different due to logistics/circumstance. also i clearly know nothing about playing the violin so just 🤓☝️ pipe down over there, k? ily. actually would love to hear real violinists thoughts on this so hmu.
⋆˙⟡ bully scale: ★★★☆☆ (3.5)
EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ WARNINGS: foreign object and finger insertion (reader receiving), oral (reader receiving), fingering (reader receiving), dub-con: hao doesn't have consent before sexually touching reader but reader is turned on by it, cum play, bullying.
DO NOT PUT ROSIN UP YOUR HOO HA YA DINGUS!! purely for entertainment purposes, this fic exists in a world where there aren't consequences for that okay? DON'T. I REPEAT DON'T. DO THIS IRL. okay thank you, love you.
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦
you take a deep breath, bouncing nervously on the balls of your feet at the south campus entrance. you’d barely gotten any sleep last night after your encounter with jiwoong, too busy tossing and turning as you pictured the dirty looks you’d be getting all over campus the next day. but as you walk across the main courtyard to the music building this afternoon, you’re surprised and elated to hear no frantic whispers in response to your presence.
had jiwoong really kept what happened yesterday a secret? you find it hard to believe he’d want to protect your reputation and mental well-being. still, the proof was in the pudding and, so far, the pudding seemed entirely unaware of who you are. just how you like it.
on tuesday afternoons, you had string ensemble in place of advanced drama. although it was a relief to have jiwoong out of sight and out of mind, there was another force at play to deal with.
as you enter the orchestra room, you spot that force immediately— already seated and delicately coating the hairs of his bow with the lifetime supply of premium rosin he’d won for first place violinist at the chinese international music competition three years ago. you know this fact because he never lets you forget it.
with your violin case in your hand, you make your way to your seat: second chair, of course. first chair is eternally occupied by your conductor’s most favorite student.
you sit down in your black music chair, smoothing your skirt so that it doesn’t ride up while you play. opening your violin case, you carefully pull out your instrument and begin quietly tuning it as the rest of the string ensemble files in. you place your bow to the strings, playing a note to assess the sound. the note comes out airy and weak and it makes you inherently wince.
“fucking fix that right now,” a familiar voice to your left suddenly demands. “i won’t ask again.”
your left eyebrow peaks in confusion as you mumble, “you didn’t ask a first time.”
he doesn’t even look at you. and though you already intended to fix the problem without his prompting, you place your violin back in its case and start to fish around in the velvet compartments for some rosin. when you come up empty, you start to panic.
“good afternoon, everyone,” professor ahn greets, tapping her conductor’s baton on the frame of her metal music stand. “we have a lot to get to today, so let’s just jump right in.”
shit. you really need rosin.
but there’s no way you can raise your hand and disrupt professor ahn’s flow. she already thinks you’re a second-rate violinist that “hides her lack of talent behind incessant practice”. this was a direct quote you’d received on your evaluation sheet last semester. besides, all professor ahn would probably say was that you should’ve made sure your bow was up to par before you even got to campus.
you couldn’t argue with that. it was the truth. but your little incident with jiwoong had preoccupied you and suddenly every perfectionist task you routinely performed seemed... obsolete. how could you let him get to you like this?
and why did it still feel so good?
professor ahn taps her baton again, signaling for everyone to turn to the first page of your spring concert repertoire. you swallow nervously, opening your sheet music booklet to tippett’s fantasia concertante on a theme of corelli. it’s an extremely difficult piece that an outstanding violinist struggles to play on a good day. and you would be playing it with your bow in a noticeably poor condition.
you stumble through the piece as quietly as possible, cringing when the sound your instrument produces is less than satisfactory. though your ensemble is still learning the song, others’ mistakes aren’t enough to hide the strange performance coming from the second-chair violinist.
“zhang hao-sshi,” professor ahn suddenly calls. the boy to your left looks up at her in attention, causing your heart to sink to your stomach. “who is responsible for that unsatisfactory sound?”
you were foolish to think you could escape what inevitably always happened during string ensemble: the second of your five jerk-off bullies ratting you out in front of the whole orchestra.
there was a reason professor ahn held such distaste for you and your craft and that reason was zhang hao. each and every rehearsal, your professor would ask the first chair to list any mistakes he’d heard from your section and he apparently only ever noticed yours. you’d sit there, cheeks heating up with embarrassment as hao described every error you made in great detail that day— professor ahn taking note and deducting points from your rehearsal grade as she saw fit.
hao had seemingly made it his mission to single handedly make you quit violin in a sea of unbearable shame.
so you’re shocked when all hao replies is, “i apologize, professor ahn. i was too engrossed in playing to notice where the error was coming from.”
what the fuck? why would he lie? it couldn’t be to help you. hao would throw you to the wolves without a second thought if it meant remaining superior to you.
but his gaze returns to his sheet music, pencil floating across the paper as he quietly adds annotations. you’re honestly freaked out. had he hit his head? had the difficulty of the piece actually thrown him that much?
rehearsal ends shortly thereafter and you stay in your chair, silently tending to your violin next to hao. you’re both usually the last to leave, but hao always makes it a point to stay just a few seconds longer than you. just to prove something.
after your instrument is safely back in its case, you stand up and make your way over to the instrument storage closet. you find your cubby, pulling out your key and unlocking your unit so you can leave your violin there for the remainder of your classes this afternoon.
as you place your violin case gently inside and lock your cubby, the unexpected sound of footsteps behind you makes you freeze in place. slowly, you turn around to find hao standing in the doorway of the storage closet.
weird. hao would never undermine his unparalleled musicianship by keeping his violin in a public storage unit. he sets his case down next to him, crossing his arms and leaning on the left side of the door frame.
“i’m waiting,” is all he says, brow raised expectantly.
you look to your left and right, trying to discern what it is hao could be waiting for. you can’t find anything of note. “um... for what?”
“what do you mean, for what?” hao spits, eyes narrowing angrily. “i didn’t tell professor ahn about any of the mistakes you made today. and i don’t know if you noticed, but you made a fuck ton.”
and the shoe drops, you think.
“did you not even notice my act of kindness?” he asks indignantly. “don’t you think i at least deserve a thank you?”
“oh,” you reply, tilting your head in surprise. you swallow the urge to tell him that kindness in demand of a thank you is not exactly kindness and instead, just nod. “yeah. thank you. i guess.”
it must be some weird power play over you. it’s probably best to make a swift exit and not give him the attention he wants, so you turn on your heel and start to walk toward the door to leave. but as you approach the exit, hao reaches across the door frame— your chest colliding directly with his forearm as he blocks you in.
“c-... can i get through? i have to be in calc iii in fifteen minutes,” you ask with a frown.
hao’s arm stays glued to the other side of the door as he continues to stare at you. “i want a better thank you.”
“you—... why?” you question, brow furrowing in confusion. “i already said thank you. and i didn’t even ask you to lie for me in the first place.”
hao blinks at you. “so you’re not grateful?”
“honestly, you’re kind of making me uncomfortable,” you reply, ducking under his arm and walking back out into the orchestra room. “so if my lack of gratitude means you’re going to go back to humiliating me in front of the entire string ensemble every day... i guess i’ll just have to continue living with it.”
you make it halfway out of the rehearsal room when you hear a faint: “wait.”
you turn around to find a slightly panicked hao still standing in the doorframe of the storage closet.
“you need rosin, right? you ran out?” he asks, as if he couldn’t tell exactly what your problem had been from hearing you play today. “i’ll give you some of mine.”
clearly you’ve just hallucinated. you’re so stressed from yesterday’s events that you’ve started hearing things. or maybe you’re still asleep in your bed at home. or maybe you’re dead. because there’s no way hao would ever give you his beloved rosin.
“let me just get it out of my case,” he says, bending down to the ground and opening up his very expensive violin case. you walk over to him slowly, partly because you don’t believe him and partly because you’re starting to worry something is terribly wrong with him.
“hao, are... are you feeling okay?” you ask, stepping back into the storage closet and watching as he pulls out a fresh cake of premium rosin. it’s a box-shape with rounded edges and no plastic holder, the golden-brown hardened sap shining beautifully even in the dim light of the storage closet.
he stands back up, holding the rosin between his fingers delicately. “never better.”
“you’re—... you’re gonna give me your cimc prize rosin?” you ask, incredibly confused. “why would you do that?”
“because you need it. don’t you?” he answers with a shrug.
“but... but—.” you protest, head spinning a million miles a minute trying to make sense of hao’s bizarre and uncharacteristic display of benevolence. “what’s the catch?”
with no discernible inflection, hao repeats, “the catch.”
“i don’t see why you’d give this to me without a price,” you elaborate skeptically. “you don’t like me. you’re actively mean to me actually. it doesn’t make sense that you’d give me something you value without asking for anything in return. i mean, you couldn’t even randomly choose to cover for me during rehearsal without demanding a thank you after.”
hao considers this for a moment and then nods. “well, what if i ask for the same thing then? in exchange for this rosin, i want a thank you.”
“i can’t even begin to figure out what’s gotten into you today,” you respond with a reluctant sigh, “but fine. i guess i can agree to your terms.”
“we have a deal,” hao affirms with a stupid, perfect smirk. he closes the gap between you, holding out the rosin in his palm. when you try to take it from him, he retracts his hand. “i’ll take the thank you first actually.”
“sure,” you agree, rolling your eyes. “thank you.”
he tilts his head to the side, prompting, “what was that?”
“thank you, hao. i really appreciate you giving me your rosin,” you feed flatly, hoping you’ve finally appeased him.
“an improvement,” he says before shaking his head again. “but i’m still not loving the tone coming out of you... i think you could use some rosin.”
“what do you—” you start to ask, but it’s already too late. without any time to spare, the door is shut behind you and a sudden draft hits your heat as your panties are shoved to the side beneath your skirt. the air leaves your lungs as long, thin fingers dip through your folds and squeeze something cold and smooth inside of you.
“there you go,” hao smiles, incredibly satisfied with the stunt he’s just pulled. “i think that might help your tone.”
“y-you... did you...” you stammer as you gawk at the boy in front of you. your cheeks are beet red at the violation of your sex. you’re in such shock that all you can whisper is, “you can’t put that in... there.”
“an instrument should be well cared for,” he challenges, sinking to his knees and running his hands up and down your bare thighs. “gonna make you sound so pretty.”
there’s a flutter in your core that you desperately want to silence. you could not be turned on by this. one of the men you hate most in this world just shoved a foreign object up you without asking. so why is the hungry look in his eyes as he backs you against the wall of storage units exciting you?
hao hooks his fingers around the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs. you step out of them without a word. he lifts your right leg over his shoulder, bringing your cunt closer to his face as he holds your hips steady.
he licks a stripe starting just above your opening to your clit as if he wants to taste every inch of you. the sensation makes you gasp and then immediately cover your mouth in shame. were you really enjoying this?
“hm, still an airy sound,” hao observes, eyes locked on your center as his fingers grip into your hips. “definitely needs more rosin.”
he dives back in, lapping at your cunt— tongue flicking your bundle of nerves as your arousal builds. you must’ve fallen into an alternate dimension. fainted. been in a terrible bus accident on your way to campus. but why you’d dream of hao’s head between your thighs in a storage closet is beyond your comprehension.
the more he works you with his mouth, the more hums and sighs escape your lips but all of your worries aren’t eased just yet.
“it’s... it’s gonna melt,” you say softly, starting to feel a bit dizzy. “the r-ros—.”
“rosin starts to crumble from heat at 50 degrees celsius,” hao interjects in between sloppy traces of his tongue. “the average internal temperature of a vagina is 37.5 degrees.”
“but—”
“don’t act like you don’t know how numbers work. aren’t you in calc iii?” hao ridicules, biting gently at your clit. you throw your head back at the sensation as he increases the pressure of his tongue against you. “are you just a fraud in every subject you take?”
“hao,” you beg, his slander just adding to the pleasure you’re feeling as your right hand tangles up in his hair— tugging from the root. “feels so good. so, so good.”
“fuck, that’s beautiful baby,” hao pants, right hand detaching from your hip. he parts your entrance with his fingers, the cake of rosin slipping out into his palm with a crude, wet smack. you both stare at the golden brown block, still perfectly intact but now dripping in your arousal. he drags it down the inside of your thighs, mesmerized by the trail of glistening honey it leaves on your skin. “mm, coated perfectly now.”
he drops the rosin on the floor next to you, replacing the empty space in your pussy with his ring and middle fingers. you gasp at the stretch, clenching involuntarily around him.
“i think you’re ready to play,” hao decides, curling his fingers up inside of you against your front wall and pressing on your clit with his thumb. he watches you intently, mouth open slightly as he drinks in the sight of you writhing in pleasure. “c’mon, baby. let me hear you.”
you do as he says, moaning as the pads of his fingers press into your sweet spot again. with every rhythmic stroke, your sounds grow less inhibited and hao grows more entranced. he’s making the face he usually makes while playing his violin— focused, impassioned, and devastatingly sexy.
was hao enjoying playing you as much as he enjoyed playing his other instrument?
“gon—... gonna make me cum,” you whine after another minute, the look in hao’s eyes turning feral. he immediately returns his mouth to your cunt, sucking at your sensitive bud with a renewed vigor.
as hao brings you closer to the brink of orgasm, your moans only grow louder and sweeter like a crescendo. the harmonic sounds coming out of you are intensified by an increase in the pace of his finger-fucking. it’s all too much for you to handle, your walls spasming around him uncontrollably.
“oh my god, hao—,” you cry, your climax crashing over you like the perfect wave. “c-cumming... i—...”
you can barely hold yourself up, clinging to the shelves on either side of you as hao works you through your high. your breathing returning to normal, he looks up at you as he pulls his fingers out of your pussy— lips pink and glistening with your juices.
he removes your right leg from around his shoulder, eyes locked with yours as he stands up and brushes the dust off his knees.
“th-thank... you,” is what comes out of you as you stare at him, dumbfounded. “thank you.”
“yeah, sure,” hao replies dismissively. after making such a big deal about a thank you, it figures he’d pretend he never cared in the first place. “clean off that rosin and use it next week or i’ll tell professor ahn you stole it from me.”
“oh. okay,” you quietly agree, unable to control the awkward energy that’s now tying your tongue. “um. thanks... again.”
he just shrugs, walking over to the door and picking up his violin case. unlocking the door and pushing it open, he takes a few steps out the door before suddenly stopping in his tracks. he turns over his shoulder to look at you. “i almost forgot to ask...”
you gulp at the sight of the upturned corner of his lip in a smug grin.
“... was it better than jiwoong hyung?”
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦
gender neutral version below
EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ WARNINGS: hand/oral (reader receiving), throat fucking with fingers (reader receiving), dubcon: hao does not have consent before inserting fingers into reader's mouth, reader is turned on by this, cum play, bullying.
IF YOU WANT TO COVER YOUR ROSIN IN CUM, YOU CAN I'M NOT THE BOSS OF YOU but from everything i've read in research for this fic, it will ruin it so maybe don't. up to you tho, babe. love you.
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦
you take a deep breath, bouncing nervously on the balls of your feet at the south campus entrance. you’d barely gotten any sleep last night after your encounter with jiwoong, too busy tossing and turning as you pictured the dirty looks you’d be getting all over campus the next day. but as you walk across the main courtyard to the music building this afternoon, you’re surprised and elated to hear no frantic whispers in response to your presence.
had jiwoong really kept what happened yesterday a secret? you find it hard to believe he’d want to protect your reputation and mental well-being. still, the proof was in the pudding and, so far, the pudding seemed entirely unaware of who you are. just how you like it.
on tuesday afternoons, you had string ensemble in place of advanced drama. although it was a relief to have jiwoong out of sight and out of mind, there was another force at play to deal with.
as you enter the orchestra room, you spot that force immediately— already seated and delicately coating the hairs of his bow with the lifetime supply of premium rosin he’d won for first place violinist at the chinese international music competition three years ago. you know this fact because he never lets you forget it.
with your violin case in your hand, you make your way to your seat: second chair, of course. first chair is eternally occupied by your conductor’s most favorite student.
you sit down in your black chair, propping your sheet music booklet up onto your music stand. opening your violin case, you carefully pull out your instrument and begin quietly tuning it as the rest of the string ensemble files in. you place your bow to the strings, playing a note to assess the sound. the note comes out airy and weak and it makes you inherently wince.
“fucking fix that right now,” a familiar voice to your left suddenly demands. “i won’t ask again.”
your left eyebrow peaks in confusion as you mumble, “you didn’t ask a first time.”
he doesn’t even look at you. and though you already intended to fix the problem without his prompting, you place your violin back in its case and start to fish around in the velvet compartments for some rosin. when you come up empty, you start to panic.
“good afternoon, everyone,” professor ahn greets, tapping her conductor’s baton on the frame of her metal music stand. “we have a lot to get to today, so let’s just jump right in.”
shit. you really need rosin.
but there’s no way you can raise your hand and disrupt professor ahn’s flow. she already thinks you’re a second-rate violinist that “hides your lack of talent behind incessant practice”. this was a direct quote you’d received on your evaluation sheet last semester. besides, all professor ahn would probably say was that you should’ve made sure your bow was up to par before you even got to campus.
you couldn’t argue with that. it was the truth. but your little incident with jiwoong had preoccupied you and suddenly every perfectionist task you routinely performed seemed... obsolete. how could you let him get to you like this?
and why did it still feel so good?
professor ahn taps her baton again, signaling for everyone to turn to the first page of your spring concert repertoire. you swallow nervously, opening your sheet music booklet to tippett’s fantasia concertante on a theme of corelli. it’s an extremely difficult piece that an outstanding violinist struggles to play on a good day. and you would be playing it with your bow in a noticeably poor condition.
you stumble through the piece as quietly as possible, cringing when the sound your instrument produces is less than satisfactory. though your ensemble is still learning the song, others’ mistakes aren’t enough to hide the strange performance coming from the second-chair violinist.
“zhang hao-sshi,” professor ahn suddenly calls. the boy to your left looks up at her in attention, causing your heart to sink to your stomach. “who is responsible for that unsatisfactory sound?”
you were foolish to think you could escape what inevitably always happens during string ensemble: the second of your five jerk-off bullies ratting you out in front of the whole orchestra.
there was a reason professor ahn held such distaste for you and your craft and that reason was zhang hao. each and every rehearsal, your professor would ask the first chair to list any mistakes he’d heard from your section and he apparently only ever noticed yours. you’d sit there, cheeks heating up with embarrassment as hao described every error you made in great detail that day— professor ahn taking note and deducting points from your rehearsal grade as she saw fit.
hao had seemingly made it his mission to single handedly make you quit violin in a sea of unbearable shame.
so you’re shocked when all hao replies is, “i apologize, professor ahn. i was too engrossed in playing to notice where the error was coming from.”
what the fuck? why would he lie? it couldn’t be to help you. hao would throw you to the wolves without a second thought if it meant remaining superior to you.
but his gaze returns to his sheet music, pencil floating across the paper as he quietly adds annotations. you’re honestly freaked out. had he hit his head? had the difficulty of the piece actually thrown him that much?
rehearsal ends shortly thereafter and you stay in your chair, silently tending to your violin next to hao. you’re both usually the last to leave, but hao always makes it a point to stay just a few seconds longer than you. just to prove something.
after your instrument is safely back in its case, you stand up and make your way over to the instrument storage closet. you find your cubby, pulling out your key and unlocking your unit so you can leave your violin there for the remainder of your classes this afternoon.
as you place your violin case gently inside and lock your cubby, the unexpected sound of footsteps behind you makes you freeze in place. slowly, you turn around to find hao standing in the doorway of the storage closet.
weird. hao would never undermine his unparalleled musicianship by keeping his violin in a public storage unit. he sets his case down next to him, crossing his arms and leaning on the left side of the door frame.
“i’m waiting,” is all he says, brow raised expectantly.
you look to your left and right, trying to discern what it is hao could be waiting for. you can’t find anything of note. “um... for what?”
“what do you mean, for what?” hao spits, eyes narrowing angrily. “i didn’t tell professor ahn about any of the mistakes you made today. and i don’t know if you noticed, but you made a fuck ton.”
and the shoe drops, you think.
“did you not even notice my act of kindness?” he asks indignantly. “don’t you think i at least deserve a thank you?”
“oh,” you reply, tilting your head in surprise. you swallow the urge to tell him that kindness in demand of a thank you is not exactly kindness and instead, just nod. “yeah. thank you. i guess.”
it must be some weird, new power play over you. it’s probably best to make a swift exit and not give him the attention he wants, so you turn on your heel and start to walk toward the door to leave. but as you approach the exit, hao reaches across the door frame— your chest colliding directly with his forearm as he blocks you in.
“c-... can i get through? i have to be in calc iii in fifteen minutes,” you ask with a frown.
hao’s arm stays glued to the other side of the door as he continues to stare at you. “i want a better thank you.”
“you—... why?” you question, brow furrowing in confusion. “i already said thank you. and i didn’t even ask you to lie for me in the first place.”
hao blinks at you. “so you’re not grateful?”
“honestly, you’re kind of making me uncomfortable,” you reply, ducking under his arm and walking back out into the orchestra room. “so if my lack of gratitude means you’re going to go back to humiliating me in front of the entire string ensemble every day... i guess i’ll just have to continue living with it.”
you make it halfway out of the rehearsal room when you hear a faint: “wait.”
you turn around to find a slightly panicked hao still standing in the doorframe of the storage closet.
“you need rosin, right? you ran out?” he asks, as if he couldn’t tell exactly what your problem had been from hearing you play today. “i’ll give you some of mine.”
clearly you’ve just hallucinated. you’re so stressed from yesterday’s events that you’ve started hearing things. or maybe you’re still asleep in your bed at home. or maybe you’re dead. because there’s no way hao would ever give you his beloved rosin.
“let me just get it out of my case,” he says, bending down to the ground and opening up his very expensive violin case. you walk over to him slowly, partly because you don’t believe him and partly because you’re starting to worry something is terribly wrong with him.
“hao, are... are you feeling okay?” you ask, stepping back into the storage closet and watching as he pulls out a fresh cake of premium rosin. it’s a box-shape with rounded edges and no plastic holder, the golden-brown hardened sap shining beautifully even in the dim light of the storage closet.
he stands back up, holding the rosin between his fingers delicately. “never better.”
“you’re—... you’re gonna give me your cimc prize rosin?” you ask, incredibly confused. “why would you do that?”
“because you need it. don’t you?” he answers with a shrug.
“but... but—.” you protest, head spinning a million miles a minute trying to make sense of hao’s bizarre and uncharacteristic display of benevolence. “what’s the catch?”
with no discernible inflection, hao repeats, “the catch.”
“i don’t see why you’d give this to me without a price,” you elaborate skeptically. “you don’t like me. you’re actively mean to me actually. it doesn’t make sense that you’d give me something you value without asking for anything in return. i mean, you couldn’t even randomly choose to cover for me during rehearsal without demanding a thank you after.”
hao considers this for a moment and then nods. “well, what if i ask for the same thing then? in exchange for this rosin, i want a thank you.”
“i can’t even begin to figure out what’s gotten into you today,” you respond with a reluctant sigh, “but fine. i guess i can agree to your terms.”
“we have a deal,” hao affirms with a stupid, perfect smirk. he closes the gap between you, holding out the rosin in his palm. when you try to take it from him, he retracts his hand. “i’ll take the thank you first actually.”
“sure,” you agree with a sigh, rolling your eyes. “thank you.”
he tilts his head to the side, prompting, “what was that?”
“thank you, hao. i really appreciate you giving me your rosin,” you feed flatly, hoping you’ve finally appeased him.
“an improvement,” he says before shaking his head again. “but i’m still not loving the tone coming out of you... maybe your bow needs some rosin.”
“you already know it does! what are you even talking—,” you start to ask, but it’s already too late. without any time to spare, the door is shut behind you and two long, thin fingers are pushed inside of your mouth.
“there you go,” hao smiles, incredibly satisfied with the stunt he’s just pulled. “a thorough coat to get that perfect sound.”
he cups your jaw with his free hand as he shoves his fingers further into your mouth. you gag slightly as he approaches the back of your throat, your cheeks turning beet red at the violation of your body.
“an instrument should be well cared for,” hao says as he removes his fingers from your lips, unbuttoning your jeans as he guides you to sit down in a black music chair. “gonna make you sound so pretty.”
there’s a flutter in your core that you desperately want to silence. you could not be turned on by this. one of the men you hate most in this world just shoved his fingers down your throat without asking. so why is the hungry look in his eyes as he sinks down between your legs exciting you?
hao hooks his fingers around the waistband of your jeans, tugging at them until you finally lift your hips up wordlessly. he discards your underwear next, chuckling sardonically at your continued state of silence.
his lubricated fingers ghost over you, leaving a trail of your own saliva up and down your sex. the sensation makes you gasp and then immediately cover your mouth in shame. were you really enjoying this?
“hm, still an airy sound,” hao observes, eyes locked on your center as his free hand grips your thigh— fingers digging into the soft flesh. “definitely needs more rosin.”
hao pulls your hips closer to him, taking you into his mouth— swirling and sucking at your heat with his tongue. you must’ve fallen into another dimension. fainted. been in a terrible bus accident on your way to campus. but why you’d dream of hao’s head between your thighs in a storage closet is beyond your comprehension.
the more he works you with his mouth, the more hums and sighs escape your lips.
“hao,” you beg, pleasure building as your right hand tangles up in his hair— tugging from the root. “feels so good. so, so good.”
“fuck, that’s beautiful baby,” hao pants, right hand detaching from your hip. “maybe you can even learn something from how i’m playing you. everyone would appreciate that, huh?”
the patronizing insult makes you throb, another whimper falling out of you. he watches you intently, mouth open slightly as he drinks in the sight of you writhing in pleasure. “c’mon, baby. let me hear you.”
with every rhythmic stroke, your sounds grow less inhibited and hao grows more entranced. he’s making the face he usually makes while playing his violin— focused, impassioned, and devastatingly sexy.
was hao enjoying playing you as much as he enjoyed playing his other instrument?
“gon—... gonna make me cum,” you whine after another minute, the look in hao’s eyes turning feral. he immediately returns his mouth to you, sucking at your most sensitive part with a renewed vigor.
as hao brings you closer to the brink of orgasm, your moans only grow louder and sweeter like a crescendo. the harmonic sounds coming out of you are intensified by an increase in the pace of hand. it’s all too much for you to handle, your core beginning to spasm.
“oh my god, hao—,” you cry, your climax crashing over you like the perfect wave. “c-cumming... i—...”
hao pulls out the cake of rosin from his back pocket as he works you through your high, bringing it between your legs and covering it in your release. your breathing slowly returning to normal,he runs the sticky rosin down each of your inner thighs.
“it’s... it’s gonna melt,” you say softly, both hypnotized and concerned. “the r-ros—.”
“rosin starts to crumble from heat at 50 degrees celsius,” hao interjects as he coats the rosin in more of your fluids. “your body temperature is 37 degrees.”
“but—.”
“don’t act like you don’t know how numbers work. aren’t you in calc iii?” hao baits, licking up the last remnants of your orgasm for himself. “are you just a fraud in every subject you take?”
his eyes lock with yours as he stands up and brushes the dust off his knees.
“th-thank... you,” is what comes out of you as you stare up at him, dumbfounded. “thank you.”
“yeah, sure,” hao replies dismissively. after making such a big deal about a thank you, it figures he’d pretend he never cared in the first place. “clean off that rosin and use it next week or i’ll tell professor ahn you stole it from me.”
“oh. okay,” you quietly agree, unable to control the awkward energy that’s now tying your tongue. “um. thanks... again.”
he just shrugs, walking over to the door and picking up his violin case. unlocking the door and pushing it open, he takes a few steps out the door before suddenly stopping in his tracks. he turns over his shoulder to look at you. “i almost forgot to ask...”
you gulp at the sight of the upturned corner of his lip in a smug grin.
For ur prompt event can i request plushies w/ zhanghao? (My pookie wookie)
THANK U IN ADVANCE AND AGAIN HAPPY 8KKKK
ੈ✩‧₊˚ note ! TYSM DANI<333 it means a lot to me hehe<3 i hope u like it, even tho its short:(
extras a little swearing 🧸 wc 282 🧸 @kstrucknet
[ 9:42pm ] you swore you left hao in your bedroom just for a split second, just to use the bathroom.
your boyfriend was grumpy about it, complaining about the loss of warmth when you got up. other than that he was acting normal.
while you were gone, hao stared at one of your plushies.
it was a teddy bear, a pink ribbon tied around its neck with a bow on the front. the bear was staring at him with its shiny, black eyes.
“what’s your problem?” zhanghao murmured, tilting his head. the bear seemed to provoke him (despite sitting prettily in one place).
hao just couldn’t stop staring, brows furrowed. something about this head just… pissed him off.
he didn’t mind your plushies, he loved them in fact. but this one…
suddenly, he threw a punch at it. a dent formed in the plushie’s head, body falling flat.
“idiot” zhanghao scoffed with a proud smile.
“what the fuck!” you yelped and he whipped his head. you ran up to your bed, grabbing the plushie.
hao watched you wrap your arms around the teddy, pressing it close to your chest. “why did you do that? that was so mean…”
“no idea, to be honest. just felt like it” zhanghao shrugged, plopping on your bed. he couldn’t hide the proud tone of his voice – yet his eyes hid a glint of… jealousy?
“is it because i cuddled it to sleep? instead of you?” you asked. his silence spoke volumes, as he nonchalantly fixed his hair.
you out the plushie in a sade range (away from hao) and wrapped your arms around your boyfriend.
“unbelievable” you just murmured into his neck, drawing an eye roll from zhanghao.
hi! I wanted to ask for your thoughts on hao giving head, I personally think it's some of the few things that can make him lose composure... I need more pussydrunk hao
my own thoughts?? he sucks dick like a champion but i digress
i can definitely see it, the first time you get intimate he tries to hide it, pulling away just before you come and you think its because he wants to tease you but it is actually because he knows he’ll get lost in the feeling if he doesn’t stop. he gets so so pussy drunk, arms hooked around your legs pressing you into the mattress, tongue moving against your clit as he makes out with your pussy. and the sight is magical, his hair completely disheveled from your fingers, forehead slightly sweaty and eyes blown out, he looks so pretty that you have to tell him exactly that. hao loves the praise, moaning against your swollen nub and grinding his hips into the mattress, eyes shooting up at you as he sticks out his tongue, a silent way to ask you to grind over his face. at the end of the night the fabric under haos hips would be soaked from his cum and his face is completely covered in your wetness as you reach for his cock.
“oh w-we don’t… i already” he blushes as he confesses he came untouched ist from eating your pussy.
I wholeheartedly agree 100%. He would work your nerves as a sub but I see Hao as a switch so I feel like when he doms, whatever he does as a sub would not fly by him.
smut drabble under the cut !
"Zhanghao. If you don't listen I'm not gonna fuck you for the next 2 weeks." You glared at him, but to him everything was a game, and he was smiling straight up at you. "Stop moving, if I have to tie you up you'll be subbing for those 2 weeks instead."
"Don't threaten me with a good time," Hao winked, blowing a kiss in your direction. You too the remote from the side of the bed and pressed a button, turning the vibrator up a setting higher. The smile on his face disappeared and was replaced by him pressing his lips together as his eyes closed, trying not to let out any noises.
"Come on baby, be a good boy and let honey get what she wants, okay?" And to that he finally gave in, nodding and begging for you to turn it down. "Good boy, see? Now was that so hard?"
[ extras ] men being creepy :// set in royal-ish au, reader struggles w the fact that old men wanna marry her (s her pronouns - nicknames such as damsel, lady used), food mention + word count
ੈ✩‧₊˚ note ! VESPIEEEE !! i hope u enjoy this!! <3
@kstrucknet
you tried to pay attention only to the colorful macarons displayed on the plate in front of you, ignoring the approaching man.
you gently took one sweet treat, a pink colored one, and bit into it. the strawberry flavor lingered on your tongue, bringing much awaited feeling of joy.
“these look mighty sweet” the man stood next to you. you unwillingly glanced at him.
yet another old man trying to make you his.
“they indeed are. i quite enjoy those strawberry ones–” you added quietly, knowing all too well that you’ll be interrupted.
“as sweet as you, my lady. may i know your name?” yup, there it was. you took another (and finishing) bite of the macaron, blinking at him. he took the hint of you not being able to talk with your mouth full.
you decided to chew for as long as possible.
“my name is kim–“ he started talking and your mind drifted away already.
during the whole evening, various men approached you trying to win your heart. your family was one of the richest in town, that’s true, but you were also simply beautiful. and all those old, nasty men wanted nothing more than a rich, young, pretty wife.
you reached for another macaron with your gloved hand, this time deciding on the beige colored one. maybe it would be coffee or tea flavored?
“listen to me, lady” the man suddenly snarled and grabbed your wrist, the macaron slipping from between your fingers.
a small pout formed on your lips as you watched it roll around the table leg. you were really looking forward to tasting that one.
“you’ll be mine” he said and your heart drummed with fear.
“no, thank you” you said politely, trying to wriggle away from his hold. but he didn’t let go, his ugly face twisting in anger.
the sound of the violin was filling the room. normally, you’d stop and appreciate the beautiful music but now it just felt as if it was a background tune for what’s about to happen in a dramatic opera.
“sir, please let me go” you pleaded, stepping away.
“you were not listening. where are your manners, lady? it’s alright. you won’t be such a brat once you marry me. and trust me, you will” he grinned.
your throat went dry and you yanked your hand out. successfully, you managed to escape – only your black satin glove left in the creepy man’ grasp.
you made your way through the crowd, panickedly looking for a hiding spot.
the couples dancing, swirling on the dance floor to the violin music, almost pulled you in their wave. you passed by the ball attendants, probably pushing one or two by an accident.
finally, you saw a door.
you pushed them open and gasped upon entering a huge balcony. the door closed behind you with a heavy clank and you let out a shaky breath.
it’s about time you leave this horrendous party.
when you were about to find the exit, something in the garden caught your eye. you leaned against the marble railing and a soft sigh left your lips.
by a fountain stood two lovers.
moonlight was their mask to hide under. perhaps they wished to have a moment for themselves… perhaps they just met.
assuming by them being busy with kissing, you wouldn’t bet the latter.
you didn’t want to observe them; however, you couldn’t help but feel jealousy pulling the strings of your heart. two young lovers. that’s what you should be. and not an object for bargaining for old men.
“they have no curtesy, huh?”
you turned around and saw a young man, his brown eyes scanning the couple as well. you just nodded, hesitant to even utter a word. was it another man who just wanted to steal your heart - or more so, your family heritage?
“well, apparently so do i. my apologies. the name is zhang hao” he chuckled low and sent you a warm smile.
you carefully examined his features. looking at him now - despite just the faint glow of the moonlight outside - you realized he might be your age. his brown hair were falling on his forehead, and the black tuxedo he wore highlighted his slim figure.
“y/n of l/n” you hummed and bowed politely. will there be a remark? ‘oh, those l/n?’ ‘ah, i could swear i saw this face before’
he just reached his hand out to greet you. you mirrored his movement and were taken aback when once grabbing your hand gently, he leaned down to place a feather-light kiss atop of it.
with a chivalrous smirk he pulled away and opened his hand.
in it was your other black satin glove.
“i saw what happened. i’m sorry. i actually seen all the men approach you, i could see how uncomfortable you were” he said apologetically with a soft look in his eye.
“why didn’t you save a damsel in distress then?” you asked teasingly, reaching out to grab your belonging.
but zhanghao once again captured your hand gently. his own hand was calloused yet tender and warm. pleasant to hold.
“my apologies, i was busy” he scoffed and carefully put the glove on your hand. not breaking eye contact, he kept slowly pulling it up.
“with? flirting with other young ladies?” you kept testing him.
“didn’t have the time” he huffed and finally matched the height of your other glove. he smoothed it out with his hand, at a leisurely pace tracing back down to your hand “see, i was the one playing the violin inside”
your mouth slightly fell agape. now that was worth admiring.
a playful smirk danced on his lips. he subtly let go of your hand, letting it rest on the marble railing.
“trust me, y/n, i would have intervened if i could” zhanghao said and stepped closer to you, leaning as well. your shoulders were merely brushing.
you glanced at him while he stared at the couple in the garden. they were chatting, holding hands.
“a simple ‘thank you’ would be fine but i do appreciate your awe” he teased, not even looking at you.
you scoffed, rolling your eyes.
he was… different. not scared to be playful, his first words weren’t about money or marriage. he was confident and straightforward, a refreshing trait to observe.
“thank you. have you tried the macarons?” you asked, instantly regretting those words. you didn’t want to seem desperate or anything but you really wished to converse with him a little more.
“i did, actually. my friend baked them, and i must admit the strawberry ones are–”
“mind blowing! i know, right?” you gasped and you two exchanged looks. zhanghao grinned and your heart just skipped a beat.
he broke the eye contact after a while (you could swear you saw a tint of blush on his cheeks) and cleared his throat.
“so, um, zhanghao…” you started suddenly, a rush of confidence running through your love-starved body “do you also play the violin exclusively?”
you pretended not to notice how he shuffled closer to you. and he decided to not think about the way you looked at him with hope sparkling in his eyes.
“depends if there’s food included” he answered and couldn’t help but crack a smile, his serious facade crumbling.
sharing a laugh, he knew he’s going to have a very important person to play for in his schedule soon.
