[junkyard edition] make a wish, you asstit
Author ofolivesnginger
Fandom: EXO
Pairing: Luhan/Xiumin
Rating: R
Words: 1590
Warnings: crack, screwed up shit im serious
Summary: some type of ghost or something has been touching luhan’s sacred nipples. minseok has a solution.
july 24th, luhan wakes up with a boner as hard as his life had been the past few days. which would be no big deal, really, biology and stuff, except the whole oversensitive thing just seems uncanny no matter how he looks at it.
he confides in his great friend minseok. “i’ve been getting these really weird jolts lately,” he starts off their impromptu therapy session, “in-in my nipples. my nipples tingle, minseok, i dont know whats wrong with me.”
minseok raises an eyebrow. “can you…elaborate? why is this bothering you?” he scratches his chin. across him luhan is hunched on his bed, fingers laced and lips tight, deep in thought.
"it doesn’t feel right. sometimes it’s in my left nipple and sometimes it’s in my right, and even both together. sometimes there’s a jabbing pain and other times it-it feels like it’s being rubbed. but it always tingles."
"Have you…eaten something lately?"
"no, just three days ago in the middle of our performance they really started to itch, fuck, minseok, it felt like someone was touching them! i’m in that black net shirt and singing that one line where the camera zooms in and my chest felt like it was on fire. and it wasnt like it’s-the fabric and friction dont do that. something was touching them."
"and it hasnt stopped since then?" minseok hunches down too, stroking his chin.
"no"
"that’s…troubling" he says.
minseok sits back, eyes somewhere indistinct behind luhan. they both think in silence for a while, and then minseok speaks again. “Is it a huge problem? I mean, I don’t know really how…maybe it’ll go away in a few days?”
Luhan looks thoroughly perplexed, scratching the back of his neck gingerly. “well no, no damage or anything but it’s just…it’s my nipples, you know. it’s not…”
the more outrageous thing is that last night luhan’d fallen asleep after spending a long time trying to ignore the feeling, and felt it in his dreams again like it was real. except this time in his dreams there was a culprit and that was minseok, both sitting cross legged on a carpet, and luhan’s as still as a monk in meditation while minseok rubs his teats through his tie-dyed anti-hippie hippie beater, two fingers from each hand adhered to the rubber surface of the “DIE” printed, a look on his face luhan doesnt want to remember. the heavenly warmth of his tingling nubs felt so vivid that luhan thought he had been lucid, and his roommate had finally succumbed to his advances and left inhibition to the wind.
neurologists have found that people tend to dream about the last things they consciously perceived before sleep. luhan clings to that.
the day passes with no resolution. minseok isn’t much help beyond emotional support, and throughout the day the jabs to his nipples don’t stop. after dinner luhan’s thoroughly spent trying to will his nipples to stop twittering and trying to make sense of his dream, so he crashes in early, sleeping at 10 trying to think about absolutely nothing so he could dream about uncomplicated things like fruits or library due dates.
it’s after luhan settles in that minseok, at the other end of the room, switches on the monitor and goes online to look at their baidu bars simply to pass the time. he goes on the exo bar and finds a luhan body appreciation thread and goes why not. opens it, there’s a chain of pictures from all throughout the year, fan cams and screen shots of MVs of various parts of Luhan’s body. minseok grins under the eerie light of the sole desk lamp. he keeps scrolling and sees a few of the teaser pics they took before debut, with a handsome luhan decked in thick rimmed glasses, clad in a single layer of a tight black tshirt.
what a nice shirt. nice and tight.
with the subject of this morning’s talk hazily swimming around his head the entire day, minseok lifts a finger from the table, hovering over the tiny screen of the laptop. he questions his life choices for a split second but is reminded that luhan was the one who’d approached him with such a strange topic about his body, once again igniting that curiosity minseok has been burying in dirt for the past few months. without another thought, minseok leans in and experimentally taps the pad of his finger on the tightly pulled shirt over where luhan’s chest is.
"uuhngh…"
minseok’s head snaps around at the sound, elbow bumping into the table in his hurry, eyes bug wide staring at the lump on the bed closest to the door. Luhan’s bundled up in his blanket, facing minseok, and his eyes are closed. minseok’s sure he was in a light sleep when he came in. maybe luhan’s having a nightmare? although that throaty moan didn’t sound like fear…
he does it again, on the other side of his pixellated chest on the screen. tap. luhan moans, pulling his knees in. minseok pokes again and every time luhan would either make a noise or tremor. minseok rubs the screen so hard with both fingers that luhan lets out a long ass moan for three whole seconds and turns on his back, throwing his arms above him, stretching his chest. minseok swallows. something seems to be wrong. he pulls out his phone, flips through his photo album for the nearest picture of luhan with a torso. and he jabs at his nipples. luhan’s chest trembles so hard it rises off the bed.
it’s alarming. very alarming. minseok doesnt understand the algorithm behind this system. he snaps the screen shut and hastily crawls into bed and falls asleep.
at 4 AM kim minseok snaps awake like he’d just been told the lottery number. five days ago. in russia. there were these magnificent marble fountains, and following kris everyone had tossed a coin in and made a wish. minseok had found a 50 won coin at the bottom of his pocket and chucked it in, wishing after a thoughtful moment, “i wish luhan would just magically realize how much he wants me to touch him already”
propped on his elbows, he looks to the sleeping kid beside him. this kind of magic is not what he’d expected. he hadn’t meant the sentence so literally. he thinks despite the fact that the two things are not exactly in direct relation, it’s certainly the only explanation. luhan’s cute nips have inexplicably and inexorably become connected to images of their innocent, smiling faces, hidden behind those layers of humble cotton, and who knows which prurient fangirls have wiggled their little fingers and tickled the shy things to hardness. the magic is the first part of the problem. getting luhan to awaken his lust…luhan’s gonna need a little help. thank god there’s his dearest friend kim minseok.
7:30 in the morning, minseok’s laptop is open. he’s collected enough .png’s of luhan’s chest, even if one would certainly be enough. luhan’d kicked the blanket down to his waist during the night, but otherwise he’s still on his back, tshirt riding up his stomach. minseok rubs his hands.
and then without another doubt about his life choices he sticks his index and middle finger, smack dab where he knows luhan’s nipples would be, on a picture of him back stage with barely a shirt hanging on his shoulders. he watches intently past the laptop on his bed and luhan starts to stir. his fingers twitch. minseok applies more pressure. his mouth twitches. minseok pets the screen. his eyelids twitch and his nose scrunches. minseok alternates nipples. finally luhan moans again, raspy, sleepy moan. kim minseok is having the time of his life drawing figure 8s over a picture of his teammate’s tits on a laptop screen. slowly, the blanket strewn over luhan’s lower half starts to rise as a tent is pitched where his crotch is.
what minseok didnt anticipate was that after one bullseye stroke luhan would snap awake, looking utterly lost in his own bed. minseok panics for one tenth of a second, only because he hadn’t expected himself to be caught in the action, but immediately after he knows what to do. luhan doesn’t even seem to care or notice what his friend had been doing, sleepy eyes searching frantically around as he pushes to sit up. Minseok slams the laptop shut and luhan finds him from the sound, reaching out for him from his bed. “minseok, minseok, help me, please, minseok-”
minseok slides off his own bed smoothly, crawling onto luhan’s without a thought and luhan’s hands encage him the moment he’s near enough. “please, minseok, help me, oh god-”
"what do you want me to do?"
"touch me, just touch me, here," he vigorously kicks at the heavy blanket, hands finding the edge of his shirt and tugging it hard, but it’s caught under minseok’s knee. minseok shifts, reaching out to help luhan slip the shirt up to his neck, exposing his rosy buds. luhans eyes are so clouded and glossed over that he looks intoxicated, pleading for minseok to just touch him and minseok.
minseok swallows. kim minseok is a good man. kim minseok is a righteous man who helps friends who are in need. and right now…he is on an important mission to save luhan’s sacred nipples from the greedy fingers of licentious fangirls.
he rolls up his sleeves.
there is only one thing for him to do.
Fandom: EXO
Pairing: Luhan/Xiumin
Rating: R
Words: 1590
Warnings: crack, screwed up shit im serious
Summary: some type of ghost or something has been touching luhan’s sacred nipples. minseok has a solution.
july 24th, luhan wakes up with a boner as hard as his life had been the past few days. which would be no big deal, really, biology and stuff, except the whole oversensitive thing just seems uncanny no matter how he looks at it.
he confides in his great friend minseok. “i’ve been getting these really weird jolts lately,” he starts off their impromptu therapy session, “in-in my nipples. my nipples tingle, minseok, i dont know whats wrong with me.”
minseok raises an eyebrow. “can you…elaborate? why is this bothering you?” he scratches his chin. across him luhan is hunched on his bed, fingers laced and lips tight, deep in thought.
"it doesn’t feel right. sometimes it’s in my left nipple and sometimes it’s in my right, and even both together. sometimes there’s a jabbing pain and other times it-it feels like it’s being rubbed. but it always tingles."
"Have you…eaten something lately?"
"no, just three days ago in the middle of our performance they really started to itch, fuck, minseok, it felt like someone was touching them! i’m in that black net shirt and singing that one line where the camera zooms in and my chest felt like it was on fire. and it wasnt like it’s-the fabric and friction dont do that. something was touching them."
"and it hasnt stopped since then?" minseok hunches down too, stroking his chin.
"no"
"that’s…troubling" he says.
minseok sits back, eyes somewhere indistinct behind luhan. they both think in silence for a while, and then minseok speaks again. “Is it a huge problem? I mean, I don’t know really how…maybe it’ll go away in a few days?”
Luhan looks thoroughly perplexed, scratching the back of his neck gingerly. “well no, no damage or anything but it’s just…it’s my nipples, you know. it’s not…”
the more outrageous thing is that last night luhan’d fallen asleep after spending a long time trying to ignore the feeling, and felt it in his dreams again like it was real. except this time in his dreams there was a culprit and that was minseok, both sitting cross legged on a carpet, and luhan’s as still as a monk in meditation while minseok rubs his teats through his tie-dyed anti-hippie hippie beater, two fingers from each hand adhered to the rubber surface of the “DIE” printed, a look on his face luhan doesnt want to remember. the heavenly warmth of his tingling nubs felt so vivid that luhan thought he had been lucid, and his roommate had finally succumbed to his advances and left inhibition to the wind.
neurologists have found that people tend to dream about the last things they consciously perceived before sleep. luhan clings to that.
the day passes with no resolution. minseok isn’t much help beyond emotional support, and throughout the day the jabs to his nipples don’t stop. after dinner luhan’s thoroughly spent trying to will his nipples to stop twittering and trying to make sense of his dream, so he crashes in early, sleeping at 10 trying to think about absolutely nothing so he could dream about uncomplicated things like fruits or library due dates.
it’s after luhan settles in that minseok, at the other end of the room, switches on the monitor and goes online to look at their baidu bars simply to pass the time. he goes on the exo bar and finds a luhan body appreciation thread and goes why not. opens it, there’s a chain of pictures from all throughout the year, fan cams and screen shots of MVs of various parts of Luhan’s body. minseok grins under the eerie light of the sole desk lamp. he keeps scrolling and sees a few of the teaser pics they took before debut, with a handsome luhan decked in thick rimmed glasses, clad in a single layer of a tight black tshirt.
what a nice shirt. nice and tight.
with the subject of this morning’s talk hazily swimming around his head the entire day, minseok lifts a finger from the table, hovering over the tiny screen of the laptop. he questions his life choices for a split second but is reminded that luhan was the one who’d approached him with such a strange topic about his body, once again igniting that curiosity minseok has been burying in dirt for the past few months. without another thought, minseok leans in and experimentally taps the pad of his finger on the tightly pulled shirt over where luhan’s chest is.
"uuhngh…"
minseok’s head snaps around at the sound, elbow bumping into the table in his hurry, eyes bug wide staring at the lump on the bed closest to the door. Luhan’s bundled up in his blanket, facing minseok, and his eyes are closed. minseok’s sure he was in a light sleep when he came in. maybe luhan’s having a nightmare? although that throaty moan didn’t sound like fear…
he does it again, on the other side of his pixellated chest on the screen. tap. luhan moans, pulling his knees in. minseok pokes again and every time luhan would either make a noise or tremor. minseok rubs the screen so hard with both fingers that luhan lets out a long ass moan for three whole seconds and turns on his back, throwing his arms above him, stretching his chest. minseok swallows. something seems to be wrong. he pulls out his phone, flips through his photo album for the nearest picture of luhan with a torso. and he jabs at his nipples. luhan’s chest trembles so hard it rises off the bed.
it’s alarming. very alarming. minseok doesnt understand the algorithm behind this system. he snaps the screen shut and hastily crawls into bed and falls asleep.
at 4 AM kim minseok snaps awake like he’d just been told the lottery number. five days ago. in russia. there were these magnificent marble fountains, and following kris everyone had tossed a coin in and made a wish. minseok had found a 50 won coin at the bottom of his pocket and chucked it in, wishing after a thoughtful moment, “i wish luhan would just magically realize how much he wants me to touch him already”
propped on his elbows, he looks to the sleeping kid beside him. this kind of magic is not what he’d expected. he hadn’t meant the sentence so literally. he thinks despite the fact that the two things are not exactly in direct relation, it’s certainly the only explanation. luhan’s cute nips have inexplicably and inexorably become connected to images of their innocent, smiling faces, hidden behind those layers of humble cotton, and who knows which prurient fangirls have wiggled their little fingers and tickled the shy things to hardness. the magic is the first part of the problem. getting luhan to awaken his lust…luhan’s gonna need a little help. thank god there’s his dearest friend kim minseok.
7:30 in the morning, minseok’s laptop is open. he’s collected enough .png’s of luhan’s chest, even if one would certainly be enough. luhan’d kicked the blanket down to his waist during the night, but otherwise he’s still on his back, tshirt riding up his stomach. minseok rubs his hands.
and then without another doubt about his life choices he sticks his index and middle finger, smack dab where he knows luhan’s nipples would be, on a picture of him back stage with barely a shirt hanging on his shoulders. he watches intently past the laptop on his bed and luhan starts to stir. his fingers twitch. minseok applies more pressure. his mouth twitches. minseok pets the screen. his eyelids twitch and his nose scrunches. minseok alternates nipples. finally luhan moans again, raspy, sleepy moan. kim minseok is having the time of his life drawing figure 8s over a picture of his teammate’s tits on a laptop screen. slowly, the blanket strewn over luhan’s lower half starts to rise as a tent is pitched where his crotch is.
what minseok didnt anticipate was that after one bullseye stroke luhan would snap awake, looking utterly lost in his own bed. minseok panics for one tenth of a second, only because he hadn’t expected himself to be caught in the action, but immediately after he knows what to do. luhan doesn’t even seem to care or notice what his friend had been doing, sleepy eyes searching frantically around as he pushes to sit up. Minseok slams the laptop shut and luhan finds him from the sound, reaching out for him from his bed. “minseok, minseok, help me, please, minseok-”
minseok slides off his own bed smoothly, crawling onto luhan’s without a thought and luhan’s hands encage him the moment he’s near enough. “please, minseok, help me, oh god-”
"what do you want me to do?"
"touch me, just touch me, here," he vigorously kicks at the heavy blanket, hands finding the edge of his shirt and tugging it hard, but it’s caught under minseok’s knee. minseok shifts, reaching out to help luhan slip the shirt up to his neck, exposing his rosy buds. luhans eyes are so clouded and glossed over that he looks intoxicated, pleading for minseok to just touch him and minseok.
minseok swallows. kim minseok is a good man. kim minseok is a righteous man who helps friends who are in need. and right now…he is on an important mission to save luhan’s sacred nipples from the greedy fingers of licentious fangirls.
he rolls up his sleeves.
there is only one thing for him to do.