♡ pairing: xu minghao x afab!reader
♡ theme: smut [18+ mdni], pwp
♡ wc: 1.1k
♡ warnings: unprotected piv sex (don't do this), fingering, oral (f. receiving), choking (f. receiving), size kink if u squint, creampie, cum swallowing, petnames (baby, good girl)
♡ a/n: happy holidays @haologram!!! written as part of @camandemstudios secret santa event - hope u enjoy bestie 🫶 and tysm @miniseokminnies for the banner <3
“Hao… please…”
Your whines fill the air as your boyfriend’s long fingers trace slowly up and down your pussy, the heat of his breath on your exposed cunt sending a shiver up your spine. He’s been at this for way too long, teasing you with the most delicate touches all over your body, torturously dragging out foreplay so long that you feel like you're going to explode.
“What is it baby? Tell me,” he speaks softly as he plants a slow kiss on your inner thigh. He fixes his eyes on your desperate face, eyelids heavy with a sultry gaze as he gives you another kiss. His mouth is so close to your cunt - but nowhere near close enough. Your clit aches, throbbing against nothing, begging for the relief of Minghao’s touch.
“Need your mouth on me,” you plead, your voice wavering pathetically. He drags his middle finger in a circle around your bud, causing you to let out a sad-sounding whimper, your hips involuntarily bucking into the air in search of Minghao’s lips. But, he’s quicker, raising his chin enough for his mouth to be just out of reach.
“Patience, love,” he responds, but you see the glimmer of a smile forming upon his face, relishing in watching you lose composure beneath him. He loves how needy you are, and the fact that he can do the bare minimum and still make you dripping wet in no time makes him incredibly turned on.
Eventually, he can't wait any longer. He presses his plump red lips against your clit, kissing it delicately, making you sigh from the relief of his touch. He flattens his tongue against your cunt, giving you a slow lick; he repeats it again, and again - by the fourth time, you're squirming against the sheets. He wraps his arms around your thighs, holding you in place as he swirls the tip of his tongue around your clit, eliciting a moan from deep within.
“Oh god…”
He drags his tongue back down, pressing it into your hole, again and again until he’s fully tongue-fucking you. His nose grazes your swollen clit, sending an electric shock through you each time. You feel like you're going to cum already - it feels too fast, he just started properly going down on you. But, you can't help it - Minghao is simply too skilled in bringing you pleasure.
He pauses, raising his head and making eye contact with you. His face is glistening, covered in your juices. Eyes filled with hunger, he grins at you lazily before suddenly hoisting your thighs upwards. You yelp as he shifts your hips, practically folding you in half so he can have full, uninhibited access to your pussy. He takes your clit gently between his lips, suckling on it lightly; with a low groan your head falls back onto the pillow. He unwraps his arm from one of your thighs, bringing his fingertips to your cunt, brushing up and down your soaked slit a few times before pushing his first two fingers inside you. You cry out as he curls his fingers, stroking your g-spot as he suctions back onto your clit. He fucks you with his fingers - slowly at first, but the more you wriggle beneath him the faster he goes, pumping his fingers at the perfect rhythm.
“Oh my god, Minghao…”
He's never told you outright that you moaning his name is the hottest sound he could ever hear, but he doesn't have to. He buries his face in your pussy, sucking on your clit while his fingers work their magic. You grasp onto the bedsheets, your back arching as your climax nears, closer and closer, until-
“Oh god, I’m cumming…”
You release hits like a bolt of lightning, sending shockwaves of pleasure rolling through your body as your orgasm takes control. Minghao sucks on your clit ceaselessly as you cum on his fingers, making you see stars as your body trembles, riding out your high. Your chest rises with heavy breaths as you start to come down, your body relaxing into the bed - but neither of you are anywhere near done.
Minghao gives you one last kiss on your pulsating bud before lifting himself up to kiss you on the lips, his hand caressing the back of your neck as he makes out with you lovingly. The head of his cock bumps against your pussy; you lower yourself onto him, your overwhelming wetness taking in his tip with ease. You groan as he slowly pushes the rest of his length into you, his thickness stretching your walls deliciously. He gives you a moment to get used to his size, but you're impatient.
“Please fuck me,” you whimper, looking up at him with utter desperation. He too can't wait a moment longer - he begins to thrust into you, long and slow strokes, letting his cock feel every inch of your pussy. You reach for his arm, tugging at his wrist - and he knows exactly what you want. He drags his hand up your torso, stopping for a moment to squeeze your breasts, before wrapping his hand around your throat. His fingers squeeze into your neck, choking you as he thrusts deep into your pussy. Your eyes beg and plead him to fuck you harder as gagging noises fill the air - a fire builds in his gut, pounding into you harder and harder, until he can't resist any longer. With a string of deep moans he releases, his cum spilling into your pussy, painting your insides with his hot ropes. His cock throbs against your walls as the last few spurts fill you to the brim. After a few moments, he slowly pulls his cock out. His cum dribbles out of your hole, but he quickly catches it, stuffing it back into your cunt.
“That’s my good girl,” he coos. “Taking all my cum in your pretty pussy.”
You whine as he slowly pulls his fingers out; you grab his forearm, drawing his milky-white coated hand up to your face. You wrap your mouth around his fingers, sucking slowly, swallowing all of the excess cum.
“Oh, wow,” he mutters softly. “My baby is so perfect.”
He wraps his arm around your torso, rolling over onto his side and taking you in his embrace. His skin is hot against yours, dewey with sweat, holding you tight as he presses a deep kiss onto your cheek. You breathe in tandem, warm and safe in each other’s arms, lulling you both into a blissful trance.
you stand close to the painting hanging in front of you. you admire the harsh strokes you can see were made onto the canvas, the contrast of colors. you leisurely stroll to the room adjacent, the next artist having an entirely different aesthetic. her approach to art being expressed through sculpture. you see the marble, perfectly embracing the beauty of human anatomy. spinning around, you see a multitude of displays that just leave you in awe, the skylights allowing rays of sun to illuminate the room. the amber frames guarding these masterpieces take your breath away at the intricacy. you can’t help but grin at each masterpiece you come across.
you hear the soft clicks of a camera, bringing you back to reality. you stop and turn your head to the left.
“now, that’s a cute shot.” minghao lowers his camera, now tilting his head at you with a smirk.
you scrunch up your face in confusion. “how long have you been taking pictures of me?”
“since we got here. it was the perfect setting. keep doing what you were doing. keep smiling like that. don’t worry about me.”
with brisk strides, you walk up so now you stand next to him. you take the camera from his hands. he looks at you dumbfounded. “wait. what?”
you snap a photo of him, the blush evident on his cheeks. “your turn,” you let out with a giggle.
he rolls his eyes at an attempt to look annoyed. he’s not. he laughs with you. “give me that.” he holds out his hand, waiting for you to put his camera. reluctantly, you give it back.
“come on… there’s one that i really want you to see.” he has his hands preoccupied, holding onto his precious vintage item, but still creates space between his arm and torso for you to link on. you lean your head onto his shoulder, letting him lead the way to the next exhibit.
the moment your gaze lands on the painting, you stop in your tracks. “you’re kidding… babe, you…” you unlink your arms immediately, now wrapping them around his shoulders and neck. “you got your own section?”
he giggles at your excitement, a huge grin now present on his face. he quickly nods his head up and down. the smile growing wide on your face.
“i’m so proud of you!” you pepper kisses all over his face, ending with one on his lips, lingering there for a second before you ultimately pull away. he lowers his head, hiding into the crevice of your neck, hugging tighter around your waist. you lean in closer to whisper into his ear, “i’ve always believed in you. you are spectacular.”
he pulls back and touches your forehead with his. he says under his breath, “thank you… always…”
↬ Minghao gets his wisdom teeth removed and you’re left to deal with aftermath.
Minghao felt the floor tilt beneath his feet, like the ground was being swiped from underneath his black converse sneakers. All of a sudden, the world around him did a somersault and he landed onto the ground, the carpeted floor cushioning his fall and preventing him from getting a concussion. Though hopping out of the seat and wobbling to the common waiting room once his dentist excused herself – Minghao wondered if perhaps she had suddenly gotten the urge to visit the restroom – once seemed like a great idea to his giddy brain, he was beginning to doubt his previous intuition.
“Ow,” A sharp sting shot up his forearm as he winced, attempting to hoist himself into a sitting position but failing terribly due to the fact that his head felt like it was filled with lead. His surroundings were still spinning rather quickly for some reason, so he laid back down onto the carpet and wondered if it was going to stop anytime soon, deciding to wait until the feeling of his head being too overwhelmingly heavy for his body ceased, and he could walk properly without crashing to the ground once more.
The carpet doesn’t seem so bad anyways, he thought contently, it even smells fresh and new. And it’s fluffy too. Oh, that rhymed!
He then reached up to poke his numb, swollen cheeks, wondering why on earth he couldn’t feel anything other than a tingly, odd sensation there. There were two wet gauze pads lodged in the back of his mouth, making Minghao feel like an overfed chipmunk of some sort. His hands itched to yank them out of his mouth, but a distinct memory of his dentist strictly warning him not to remove it yet resurfaced from the depths of his hazy mind, causing the poor boy to sigh rather sadly. His fingers travelled down to his lips and he pinched them, but was unable to feel the signature slight prick of pain that came with the action.
Are my lips still there? he thought anxiously, pressing his hands to his mouth, patting his face in an attempt to locate his apparently missing lips.
“Hao, why are you lying on the ground?” A familiar face appeared in his field of vision, interrupting his intense task of finding his lips, distracting him momentarily as he squinted, willing the fog in his vision to clear.
“Y/N!” He cheered once his sluggish mind decided to catch up, the China-native lighting up like a child on Christmas day with recognition as he grinned brightly up at the sight of his friend.
“Hi,” she chuckled, crouching down beside his sprawled-out figure, delivering a playful bonk to his nose. It scrunched up in response as bubbly giggles spilled from Minghao’s lips.
“Hi! What a coincidence! Are you here to get your teeth out too? My mouth feels weird. I can’t feel my lips, I think they’re missing,” he blurted animatedly, his word filter seeming to have taken a self-declared holiday. His voice was a string of messily pronounced words and uneven syllables, wobbly tone morphing into a more solemn one when he uttered the last part seriously to her, and she had to swallow a burst of amused laughter.
“Um, no, I’m here to pick you up, silly. And your lips are right here, don’t worry,” she replied, amused as she lightly tapped his slightly swollen, pale pink lips with a finger. Though she was completely aware of the side effects of medicinal drugs administered during wisdom teeth removal procedures, she couldn’t help chuckling endearingly at the sight of the usual sensible Minghao being reduced to a loopy, disorientated mess by a dentist surgery.
“Really? But I can’t feel them!” he exclaimed, wide eyes staring up at her with genuine puzzle, eyebrows furrowing, and she resisted the urge to pinch his cheeks (it would probably be a very bad idea to do so, and she wisely kept her hands to herself) and coo at how adorably he wore the look of confusion.
“They’re there, trust me,” she assured, “Now why don’t we get you home? You can sleep in your bed instead of on the floor.”
“But it’s nice here. It’s really fluffy, see? Touch!” he insisted, reaching for her hand and dragging it back and forth on the carpet to prove his point.
“Yes, Hao, I can see that. But do you really want to nap on the public floor, where possibly hundreds of people have stepped on with their dirty shoes?”
His eyebrows furrowed as he considered this slowly, the gears in his drugged mind taking triple its usual time to turn and process information.
“I like shoes,” he concluded with a happy nod, clearly having zoned in on the word ‘shoes’ and conveniently disregarding the rest.
“Look, aren’t my shoes nice?” he pointed at his own denim sneakers with a giddy smile. He reached down, attempting to grab a hold of his footwear while in his lying position, but finding it extremely challenging due to the fact that his legs were ridiculously long and he couldn’t seem to find the appropriate position to optimize his flexibility. Clumsily clutching his leg as he stretched out his fingers, he managed to snag his left sneaker, proceeding to shimmy it off his foot – exposing a pair of pastel blue socks, sprinkled all over with little splotches of rather aesthetically-pleasing pineapples.
He handed her his shoe, doe-eyes widened expectantly, as if encouraging her to take his black sneaker. When she made no move to retrieve it, merely staring at him with a confused gaze, he asked, “Don’t you like my shoe?”
“What?”
“Aren’t my shoes pretty?”
“Sure?” she wasn’t sure where did was going.
“Do you want it?” he asked once more, holding out his sneaker to her, as if it were the most normal thing in the world to randomly offer one’s shoes to someone for no reason. Incredulity and amusement fought for dominance in the look she directed at him, and she bit back a snort of laughter.
“No, thanks. I don’t think it’ll fit me. You keep it.”
He considered this, his gaze flickering to her feet, encased in a pair of sleek black boots – yes, they did appear much smaller than his, he observed with a queer mixture of dismay and awe.
“Your feet are tiny,” he commented in amazement, staring at them as if they were the most fascinating thing he had ever seen.
“So I’ve been told. Put your shoes back on, Hao, we’re going home,” she ordered, though the grin on her lips betrayed her commanding tone, proceeding to give him a small bop on the nose. He giggled, nodding sloppily, his body curling up once again like some sort of inflexible millipede as he tried shoving his foot back into the footwear.
“Here, let me help you,” she sighed somewhat fondly when his lips twisted up into a little pout at his failure to put his shoe back on – Minghao reassembled a starry-eyed child in his drug-induced state, his odd antics rather amusing and adorably child-like, making it impossible for her usual impatient streak to rear its head at him. Helping the boy into a sitting position and making sure he did not fall over, she pulled his sneaker back over his foot and secured its laces, feeling awfully like a mother tending to a clumsy child who miraculously managed to lose a shoe whilst playing.
“Y/N,” he whispered as he beckoned her closer with a flick of his hand, as if he were about to indulge her in some enormous secret. Despite the arising inkling that it was nothing of such sort, she decided to humour him anyways, leaning in so he could mumble right into her ear.
“My foot felt so cold without my shoe. But now its warm again!” he murmured with an excited nod, wriggling his toes in awe, as he wore an expression that suggested she had just handed him the sun. She couldn’t help the grin that tugged on her lips at his statement despite the absurdity of his statement, rolling her eyes half-heartedly.
“You’re welcome. Now let’s go.”
A few minutes of persuasion and persistent convincing saw his relent, and he allowed her to haul him up without putting up a struggle. Her small victory was cut short when a pair of lanky arms wrapped affectionately around her shoulders, and the tall boy pulled her into a sloppy hug, resting his chin onto the top of her head.
“Hao, what are you doing?”
“You saved my foot from frostbite, so I need to thank you with a hug,” he stated simply – like it was the most obvious thing in the world, even babies would have gotten it – tightening his hold slightly as he nuzzled his cheek into her hair.
“That’s cute, but it’s a little difficult to walk,” she chuckled despite her previous efforts seeming as if they had been bounced back to square one.
“Oh, sorry,” he apologised sheepishly, but still refused to release her from his arms, only loosening his grasp as if it were a wonderful solution to her current problem of being unable to walk. Not having the heart to break free from his warm hug and possibly send him to fitful tears, she allowed him to cling to her like an extremely devoted baby koala as she made her way out of the dental clinic, choosing to ignore the amused glint in the dentist’s eyes when she turned to thank her politely.
“Thank you!” Minghao echoed cheerfully, waving frantically at the dentist. He was confused when the lady laughed, his mind churning with puzzlement as he wondered why the dentist appeared so amused. He didn’t think there was anything particularly entertaining about rows and rows of teeth or the shiny silver tools she fixed them with. Minghao’s brain seemed to have awakened slightly from its previous daze, and it began whirring busily as it conjured up a series of possibilities that could have caused her amusement. Maybe the dentist had extracted a gold tooth – he imagined it would be a pleasant change from the usual rows of pearly, boring white. Perhaps she was so utterly impressed by his sense of humour and his impeccable acquiescence while she worked at his teeth. Or perhaps, just perhaps, could she have been laughing at his teeth?
A cocktail of horror and embarrassment bubbled in the cauldron of his stomach at the thought of his precious teeth becoming the laughing stock of the entire dental clinic – how mortifying! A hot blush suffused up his cheeks, saturating it with a rosy red as he buried his face in his hands, whining incoherently. So engrossed in the world of his jumble thoughts was he, that he failed to notice they had arrived at Y/N’s car – to which she was pleasantly surprised with his lack of resistance when she wriggled out of his grasp and eased him into the passenger seat, strapping the seatbelt over him easily.
By the time Minghao decided to resurface from his own little universe, the sterile, white building of the dental clinic was long out of sight, and they currently appeared to be stuck in traffic, bright red lights from the rear bulbs of the vehicle in front invading his vision.
“Y/N!” he called to grab her attention, and when she responded with a quick questioning glance to let him know he had successfully hailed it, he asked glumly, “Are my teeth funny?”
“What? Why would you ask that?”
“The dentist lady laughed at me earlier,” he muttered, a petulant edge creeping into his tone as a pout laced itself onto his lips. Shooting him another glance of disbelief, she had to choke back a rising laugh that threatened to rise from the depths of her stomach when she noticed his uncanny resemblance to a moody, sullen chipmunk – she did not want to risk evoking further sulkiness if he suspected she was supposedly ‘laughing at his teeth’.
“She wasn’t laughing at your teeth, dummy. Stop touching them, your teeth are fine,” she managed to say with a straight face.
“How did you know I was touching them?” Minghao’s tone suggested he was baffled by her apparent superpowers.
“I can see you doing it.”
“Oh.”
“She wasn’t laughing at your teeth, you know?” she repeated once more when she caught his disgruntled expression from the corner of her eye.
“Really?” his large eyes were dark, chocolate pools of innocence, pure child-like hopefulness swimming in their rich brown swirls as he blinked curiously.
“Yes, really.”
He seemed satisfied with her reply, beaming brightly.
“You have nice teeth too,” he felt obliged to return, his voice coloured with a sincere, misplaced graveness that sounded as if he were reciting a grim oath rather than throwing her a sweet compliment.
“Thank you.”
The remainder of the trip back to Minghao’s apartment was filled with the said boy fumbling with the radio for about half the duration of the car ride (he claimed he could not find a station worth listening to, as they refused to play ‘his jam’ and his reasonable explanation for this was that the universe was out to get him), off-key belting of lyrics that soon turned into flat-out yelling and the occasional random, peculiar questions courtesy of the drugs present in the his system. By the time they arrived at the 20-storey building, Y/N was almost certain the dull throb that had developed in her temples was going to worsen as the day progressed; her ears seemed as if they were about to shrivel up and drop off her head like a leaf in autumn.
If the car ride was a struggle, the process of hauling Minghao up to the 7th floor was torture – and it didn’t help that he couldn’t seem to stop swaying unsteadily on his feet, nearly tripping over thin air and ending up plummeting face down onto the ground had she not caught him first. He then resumed his previous position of attaching himself tightly to her like some kind of overenthusiastic starfish, leaning the entirety of his weight onto her smaller frame as they made their way to his apartment.
She was sweating profusely by the time she dumped Minghao ungracefully onto the sofa of his living room, her back beginning to ache at the effort.
“Are you ok?” he asked, blinking innocently at her as she caught her breath, as if he was not the culprit who had caused her exhaustion. His expression morphed into one of utmost befuddlement when she gave him a half-hearted glare, sinking down onto the sofa beside him.
She then reached to yank his shoes off, but was stopped when he yelped abruptly, “Why are you taking my shoes?”, causing her to jump about 5 feet into the air in fright.
“So you don’t get dirt all over the place,” she deadpanned once she recovered from her shock, sensing that she was about to face another round of Minghao’s whiny stubbornness. He seemed appalled by the concept of removing his sneakers – and she suspected it had something to do with the conversation that went down at the dentist’s.
“But I want to wear them,” he said stubbornly, his pink lips curving into a pout once more, tucking his legs into his chest as if to hide his shoes from her, his poor attempt to prevent her from removing them. She rolled her eyes, trying to discretely inch closer to him while doing so. Seeming to have suddenly understood her intentions, Minghao hopped off the couch in one swift motion, clearly aiming to escape from her evil plans to remove his shoes. Except he didn’t quite get to carry out his plan, as he then proceeded to trip over thin air and tumble to the ground, landing with a muffled ‘oof’.
She took this opportunity to tear his sneakers from him feet, bringing them to the shoe rack by the door as she promptly ignored the whines that followed.
“You’re mean!” he huffed childishly, remaining lying on the ground, awfully reassembling an overgrown kid throwing a temper tantrum.
“I try.”
“You’re a… a…” he had trouble coming up with an appropriate insult to nail her with, struggling to catch one in the muddled mess that was his mind, finally settling with, “You’re a butt!”. He looked pretty self-satisfied with his word choice, giving her a smug look.
“You wound me,” she replied flatly.
“My feet are cold now.”
“Good to know,” her nonchalant responses were splashed with a hint of her usual sarcasm that Minghao didn’t seem capable of processing in his current state of mind. He was intrigued by the indifference in her tone, misinterpreting it for bitter coldness or anger. She failed to notice this as she plopped herself down onto the sofa with a sigh of relief – she could finally sit.
“Are you mad?” he said worriedly, getting onto all fours and crawling up to her, climbing onto the couch clumsily. He leaned closer to her when she shook her head, curious as to how he came up with this – though she wasn’t quite sure why his doe-eyes appeared to be meticulously studying her features as if they were some kind of abstract painting displayed in the museum that he couldn’t quite figure out. Despite this, she couldn’t help the smile that twitched on her lips, a burst of endearment brewing in her chest at the childlike question.
Just when she felt tempted to break his intense stare by snapping her fingers in front of his face, he promptly plopped his head onto her lap, smiling up sweetly at her. Her eyes widened considerably at the unexpected action – Minghao wasn’t exactly what she would call an openly affectionate person. In fact, he was usually rather shy and reserved when it came to physical affection, and would rarely initiate it. But here he was, head propped in her lap, those round, brown eyes staring at her expectantly.
At the questioning arch of her brow, he pointed to his own light brown hair, a hopeful expression tugging on his features. Not understanding his actions, she wondered if he was perhaps aware that she was ticklish – whenever he moved his head (which was a lot), the fine strands of his silky hair would lightly brush against her skin and trigger her innate urge to squirm at the ticklish sensation.
“What?” she asked, confused.
He didn’t answer, only wriggled around attempting to locate her hand. By some magical means, he managed to find it, then proceeded to guide it towards the crown of his head, as if wordlessly demanding to be given a scalp massage. She complied, gently running her fingers through his raven hair, soft and smooth under her touch. He visibly relaxed, tension in his muscles leeching away as he sighed contently, a smile present on his lips.
“Mm… feels nice,” he murmured happily, repositioning himself to find a more comfortable position on the sofa (due having overly long limbs, his socked feet stuck out from the end of the couch, and Y/N found it mildly amusing). They remained like that for a while, until a mewling yawn escaped his lips, breaking the cosy blanket of silence that had settled gently over their shoulders. He stared up at her through half-lidded, unfocused eyes as sleep begun to tighten its hold on him.
Something nagged at the back of her mind, a piece of information that she couldn’t quite conjure up at the moment, yet knew it was something that held utmost importance, and she racked her brain for it.
“Wait, before you fall asleep, remove the gauze in your mouth,” she blurted upon recollecting this vital fragment of memory, the dentist’s advice drifting back into her mind – Minghao was to replace the gauze pads in his mouth with fresh ones every hour or so until the bleeding stopped, and she was pretty sure an hour had passed since then. At his irresponsiveness, she gently poked his forehead to prevent him from succumbing to slumber, earning herself a whine from him.
“What?” he moaned grumpily, a sulky edge creeping into his tone as he reluctantly opened his eyes to peer at her, clearly disgruntled to be denied sleep.
“Replace the gauze in your mouth,” she repeated, reaching for her shoulder bag that had been conveniently strewn across the coffee table within arm’s reach because Minghao did not seem too keen on moving his head from its makeshift pillow – this resulted in lots of pain in multiple parts of her body due to her lack of flexibility. She had shoved a packet of sterile gauze pads from the dentist into her little bag earlier, and now retrieved two pieces, handing them to him.
“Here.”
It took a crapload of willpower for her to allow Minghao to spit two blood-soaked balls of wet gauze into her gingerly cupped hands (because he nearly decided that it was fine to spit it onto the carpeted ground, and she wasn’t going to be responsible for cleaning that up), but eventually she managed to compose herself with the assurance that there were wet wipes in her bag.
Minghao was oblivious to her internal crisis, sloppily sticking the gauze pieces into his mouth, struggling as the numbness in his cheeks prevented him from identifying the exact area to position the pads. Looking up to her for help, his features involuntarily scrunched up into a small frown when she failed to pay him attention, too busy cleaning up her hands with wipes and chucking the used gauze into a plastic bag she had magically produced from that little bag of hers – it mystified him as to how such a tiny bag could contain so much. He decided to wait patiently until she was done (I am such an angel, he thought, feeling rather pleased with himself) so she could focus her entire attention on his latest problem.
“You good?” she asked once she was finally done, having felt his persistent gaze on her.
“No – I don’t know where to put it,” he told her blatantly, reassembling a child who has misplaced the instruction manual for his latest Lego set and was now stranded in an abyss of befuddlement.
“Just shove it to the far end of your mouth,” she instructed, gently taking his hand that had clutched a piece of gauze and guiding it to right where his gum was still persistently oozing with blood. He beamed at her gratefully once both gauze pads were snugly tucked into his mouth, allowing her to take his hands and clean them off with a wipe, enjoying the light floral fragrance they emitted.
“Can I sleep now?” he questioned, another yawn forcing its way up his throat.
“Yes, you can,” she chuckled at his naive question, fondness tickling her heart when he gave a quiet cheer, burrowing his face into her lap as his eyelids fluttered shut. Absentmindedly brushing the fine strands that had fallen over his forehead away, her fingers wove themselves into his hair, gently playing with the short locks until his breathing evened out. Her fingers travelled down to gently outline the smooth slopes of his face – sleep had a way of softening his features, a peaceful tranquillity cast over him. Minghao was both enchantingly winsome and irresistibly adorable; a beautiful, endearing being.
When Minghao awakens up from his nap, an agonizing throb would begin to materialize in his cheeks as the drug the dentist dosed him with wore off, and this would most likely result in a series of cursing, followed by days of whining. She reckoned there would also be an extremely entertaining session of him squealing in embarrassment and trying to hide his face in some pillow when she relayed the entire process of taking him home and having to fight him to take his shoes off.
A mischievously little smile snuck its way onto her lips at the thought.
♡ pairing: xu minghao x gn!reader
♡ theme: best friends to lovers, college au, fluff
♡ wc: 3.1k
♡ warnings: none
“why did i sign up for this stupid class?”
you mumbled it under your breath, but your best friend still heard it from across the room. he looks up from the book he’s reading, a concerned frown on his face.
“what’s wrong with the class?” he closes his book, his eyes resting on yours.
“the class is fine it’s just… i’m just bad at it.”
“i highly doubt that.” he gets up, joining you at your kitchen table currently cluttered with textbooks, homework, and various drawing materials. he reaches for your sketchpad. “let me see.”
“nuh-uh,” you say, closing the book. he grabs it from you anyway.
“minghao! come on,” you shout at him. he ignores you, flipping through the pages.
“most of those are shitty reject drawings that i started and gave up on, nobody needs to see those.”
he continues perusing through the book quickly, but pauses at a particular page. you take the chance and reach for the sketchpad again, grabbing hold of it.
“wait! i like this one.”
you glance at the drawing he’s looking at. it’s the side profile of a classmate, drawn as a warm-up exercise.
“what? that was just a warm-up sketch, and it’s not even good. it looks nothing like the girl i was drawing.”
minghao looks up at you. “that doesn’t mean it’s bad. art isn’t necessarily about drawing things exactly the way they look, it’s about your interpretation of the subject. that’s like the whole point.”
“i wasn’t interpreting anything here, i was literally just trying to draw her face.”
“but look,” he says, turning the book so you can see it. “look at the way she’s looking into the distance. she looks sad, but in a nostalgic way.”
you stare at the sketch. “i don’t see it.”
“but that’s part of it too - art isn’t always about knowing the exact meaning of the piece, it’s also open to interpretation on the viewer’s perspective. and i like the way you portrayed her emotion.”
you narrow your eyes at him. “you’re just making that up to make me feel better.”
“i’m not! i promise. i really like your art style, y/n.”
you want to roll your eyes at him, but he looks too sincere. “okay but how can i have an art style if i literally started drawing two weeks ago at the start of the semester? i don’t even know what i’m doing.”
“look at all your drawings though,” he flips the pages one at a time. “you press really hard when you draw, so it gives everything a very bold, sharp look. and combined with the way you shade, it gives it a dramatic edge.”
you look at your sketches again. they’re still unsightly in your eyes, but you do kind of see what he means.
“well, that’s good to know i guess. but it’s still hard,” you mope. “i thought this would be an easy elective to get an A in but now i’m worried.”
“it’s an intro class - i’m sure the professor isn’t expecting you to be picasso on day one. just keep practicing and you’ll be perfectly fine.”
one of the many things you love about minghao: he always knows how to make you feel reassured.
“you’re probably right,” you reply. “i don’t know what i should draw for practice, though.”
“well, what do you want to improve the most?”
you think for a second. “our next project is a life drawing, but drawing people is so hard. so maybe that but what am i supposed to do, just draw random people?”
“sure, why not?”
“because that’s weird!”
“okay, well it doesn’t have to be a random person. here, try drawing me.”
“you?? right now?”
“yeah.”
you open your mouth to protest, but you pause, realizing it might not be a bad idea.
you shrug as you reach for your pencils. “okay, i guess. you can't get mad when it turns out terrible though.”
minghao smiles softly. he situates himself in the chair, focusing his gaze off in the distance. you pick up your sketchbook, holding it at a comfortable angle as you hold your pencil above the page. you think for a minute - you never know where to start when you have to draw a face. you glance back up at minghao, skimming across his features - naturally, you land on his eyes. you always forget how pretty they are: dark brown, soft, calm - giving him a permanent aura of being deep in thought.
you look back down at the blank page, it's emptiness seemingly taunting you. with a sigh you touch the dulled lead tip to the paper, making your first stroke - the curvature of minghao’s eyelid appearing on the page. you peep back up at your subject. to your surprise, your shape isn't too far off from reality. you continue, sketching his lower eyelid, his iris, his long dark eyelashes. you erase your marks a few times when they don't look quite right, but before long the image of an eye that looks mostly like minghao’s has formed.
you move to his nose, drawing the line of its sharp bridge, sketching a circle to render its round, button-shaped end - bringing the shape of his face to life. you peer up at his face, your pencil continuing its strokes, but you pause as you arrive at his lips. they are soft, plump, perfectly formed, highly kissable. you sketch the delicate curves, emphasizing their pillowy nature. you find yourself absentmindedly in a trance when you realize you’ve been staring at him for too long - you’ve already finished drawing his mouth. you feel your cheeks turn warm, praying he can’t see you getting flustered out of the corner of his eye.
you move on, sketching his soft but strong jawline, his ears - adorned with his usual jewelry, adding quick wispy lines to form the shape of his long hair. before long the essence of minghao has materialized in your notebook.
as you finish, you hold your sketchpad up to compare your drawing to your subject. you don’t love it, and it’s nowhere near perfect. but it is decidedly good enough.
“okay, i’m done, i guess.” you set the notebook down, hesitantly sliding it across the table toward minghao. he picks it up, turning it to face him as he looks at it for the first time. the edges of his mouth twitch upward into a subtle smile, but he doesn’t say anything.
“you hate it.”
minghao looks up at you. “what? no, i love it.” he looks back at the paper with a pleased grin. “i’m telling you, you’re really good at portraying emotion.”
“and what emotion exactly did i portray?”
he shows you your drawing. “i look wistful - like i’m caught in a daydream of unrequieted love.”
you feel your stomach do a flip, but you play it cool, crossing your arms and rolling your eyes at him. “well, i didn’t do that on purpose. but i’m glad you like it.” you extend your hand to take back the notebook, but he turns it toward him again, taking another look.
“can i keep it?” he looks up at you, his striking brown eyes making contact with yours. you stifle a gulp as you reply.
“um… sure, i guess so. if you really want it.”
he gives you a soft smile, pleased at your response. “i really do.” he carefully tears the page along the perforation, separating it from its spiral binding. he closes the sketchbook and hands it back to you. you return it to its place in your backpack.
“well, thanks for letting me practice on you, i appreciate it.”
“of course. if you need any more practice let me know - since i see you most days anyway.”
“you’re the best.”
“i know,” he replies smugly. you pick up your eraser and lob it at him. he manages to catch it with one hand, giving you a sly look as you jump out of your chair, running from him before he can throw it back. he follows you, chasing you around your apartment - you shout at him, feigning anger, but your laughter gives you away.
another thing you love about minghao: being with him is always so easy.
—
you didn’t mean to make drawing minghao a regular occurrence. but on one particularly crisp fall day, you find yourself absentmindedly sketching his features as you eat lunch together in the park. he’s reading for his literature class, and you’re supposed to be studying for your sociology course, but you keep zoning out. it’s not your fault that the text is dull, and that the cherub-like rosiness coloring his cheeks makes him look more ethereal than usual. renaissance paintings of angels have nothing on how beautiful he looks right now, you think to yourself.
you also definitely didn’t mean to start falling for your best friend, but here you are.
delicate pencil strokes paint the wisps of his bangs falling over his eyes as he is studiously engrossed in his book, his long eyelashes peeking through the curtain of hair. you focus on perfecting the shape of his face - glancing up to compare your rendering to your subject - when you notice him looking back at you.
“what are you doing?” he asks, genuinely curious.
you’re about to shut your notebook in a panic, when you realize that would only look more suspicious.
“nothing, just…”
he reaches for your notebook, his fingers brushing over the top of the page as he tilts it down so he can see. he lets out a soft chuckle.
“practicing again, i see,” he says, casually, but clearly teasing you a little. “i thought you were supposed to be studying for your sociology exam.”
“i am,” you insist. he raises his eyebrow at you. “i was just taking a break,” you add. the look on his face tells you he’s not convinced, but he doesn’t press you further.
“it looks good, i can tell you’re getting better at drawing from a reference.”
“i guess it is getting a little easier,” you admit.
minghao smiles. “good,” he affirms, before going back to his text without another word.
you find yourself gazing dreamily at the man before you, lost in aimless thoughts, imagining the feel of his hair tangled around your fingers, his skin softly pressed against your cheeks, his lips brushing against yours. eventually he notices, peeking up at you through his bangs. you swiftly return to your drawing, only to realize you've already finished. his portrait looks slightly cartoonish, and nowhere nearly as beautiful as the real thing, but you decide it's not half bad.
you half-heartedly resume your studies, sneaking glances at minghao here and there. every glimpse makes your heart flutter - you feel like an idiot, you're in college for christ's sake, and here you are having an entire crush on your closest friend.
just tell him how you feel, part of your mind tries to convince you.
but what if it ruins our friendship? another part of you worries.
you realize you're staring at him again when he looks up from his book, his gaze meeting yours.
“hmm? what is it?” he asks you calmly.
“i…”
you hesitate. his eyes rest on your face attentively.
you let out a small sigh. “i’m getting cold. can we go inside?”
he smiles softly, marking his page as he closes his book. “of course.”
minghao walks you to your next class, which is conveniently located in the building next to his next class.
“well, see ya later,” you tell him as you turn to enter the building.
“y/n…”
you freeze as he grabs your arm. you turn back around, looking at him expectantly. he lifts his hand up to your head, tenderly reaching for your hair. you realize you're holding your breath. you exhale as his fingers graze your scalp softly, plucking something off of your head.
he holds a small yellow piece up to you. “you had a leaf in your hair.”
your panicking ceases, leaving you a bit disappointed, but you can't help but smile at him.
“thanks, minghao. what would i do without you?”
“walk around with leaves in your hair all day, probably.”
you playfully give him a light shove. he reaches for the door, opening it for you as you head off to class.
“i'm coming over tonight, if that's alright,” he says as you step through the doorway.
“of course,” you say, turning over your shoulder to face him. “though, i should probably start charging you rent as much as you're at my place.”
he smiles back at you. “see you later, y/n.”
he disappears as the door shuts quickly. you spend the rest of the afternoon in a daydream, impatiently counting the hours until you see him again.
—
“how’s the studying going?” minghao asks from the other end of the couch. he sets his book down, pausing so he can take his hoodie off. his plain black t-shirt rises up as he does, revealing his entire midriff. you try not to gawk too hard. he stares at you as he tosses the hoodie aside - you realize he is awaiting your response.
you look down at your notebook, where you’ve once again been sketching his face. “um… pretty good,” you lie. “are you hungry?” you ask, changing the subject.
“starving, actually,” he admits.
“well, i can offer you ramen, or… actually, that’s about it.”
he grins at you. “ramen sounds great. want me to make some-”
“nope,” you respond as you flip your notebook over, setting it face down on the seat next to you. “i got it.” you rise and head to the kitchen.
you cook the noodles, serving them into two bowls and carrying them back to the living room. you set the bowls on the coffee table, reaching over to set one in front of minghao - but you feel your leg bump against something. you look down to see your notebook fall to the floor - landing right side up. before you can grab it, minghao has already picked it up for you. he goes to hand it back to you, but pauses as he sees your sketches. you go to swipe it out of his hands, but miss as he pulls back, looking at his own face doodled on your pages.
“you were drawing me again.” it wasn’t a question.
you try to quickly think of some excuse, anything, to get you out of this one, but your mind comes up blank. you decide to try and play it off.
“yes,” you reply with feigned confidence as you sit down next to him. he looks up at you, then back down to the paper. you stare at him, waiting for him to say something else, but he says nothing.
“i like to practice whenever i can,” you add with a shrug.
he flips through your notebook. “whenever you can, or whenever you’re with me?”
“um… i-”
“because these all sure look like me, y/n.”
“so?” you ask him. you meant for your tone to be casual, but it came out a bit more defensive than intended.
his eyes meet yours again. he looks at you warmly, but you can’t tell what he’s thinking. your heart beats rapidly in your chest.
“so,” he answers as he sets the notebook aside. “i'm wondering, if…” he scoots closer to you, lifting his hand to your face, gently brushing your cheek with his thumb. your skin feels like it's on fire. his fingers tucked under your chin delicately, he draws your face in toward his. you gasp softly.
“if you feel the same way about me, as i feel about you.”
your heart is racing. you feel dizzy. he's so close to you, a few more inches and your noses would touch. his plump lips wait enticingly.
“and how do you feel about me?” you manage to ask, your voice barely more than a whisper. his deep brown eyes stare longingly into yours. you’re pretty sure you know the answer, you hope you know the answer, but you need him to confirm it.
suddenly, he kisses you.
he kisses you, setting alight fireworks inside you. his soft lips touch against yours ever so gently, his nose pressing against your cheek, his hand holding your face tenderly in his palm, then sliding to the back of your neck, drawing you closer still into him. your chest presses against his, his other arm wrapping around your waist, his large hand settling upon the small of your back. you kiss him back, your lips locked onto his like your life depends on it. you've thought of this, dreamt of this, so many times before, all the years you've known minghao - yet you never could have imagined how thrilling, exhilarating, freeing it would be to finally be here, in his arms, world stopped, nothing matters except you and him, so lovingly embraced - together.
electricity pulsates through your skin, every nerve in your body dancing. slowly, minghao’s lips part from yours. you lock eyes with him - in all the time you've known him, he's always been a sentimental person, but you've never seen such love and adoration beaming from him like you see now.
and it's all for you.
a giggle escapes you. minghao looks at you, a wide grin spreading across his face. you run your hands through his hair, a sensation you've waited so long to experience - it's every bit as delightful as you imagined.
“hao…” you start.
he plants another kiss on your lips. “hmm?” he asks, still glowing at you.
“how long have you felt this way?” you ask softly.
“i've had feelings for you since the day we met, and i've loved you more every day since.”
you boop your nose against his, giving him a fake stern look.
“and why didn't you tell me?”
he feigns a pouty face back at you. “why didn't you tell me?”
you blow a tiny raspberry at him. he smiles, pulling you into him, wrapping his arms around you tightly as he kisses your cheek repeatedly. you laugh, held in his warm embrace, overflowing with emotions.
finally, you can admit it: you're in love with your best friend - and he just so happens to love you back.
