yeah boy & dollface
pairing: het!xiuhun
rating: nc-17
length: 2400 words, oneshot
genre: smut
summary: the bored, wrecked bridesmaid and somebody’s shock-blonde stepbrother stumble into each other at some stupid wedding.
note: wrote this while slightly drunk for an anon request on tumblr. het smut is hard and i'm super embarrassed. read it and weep.
Minseo hates weddings. Her hair is all done up in pins and needles and she’s sipping at some expensive champagne in too-high heels while girls she barely knows and doesn’t like get shitfaced and flock her old best friend, who looks absolutely terrified.
She knows she looks stuffy, but in her sad, drunk little head, she has reason to. She was the only one of them who left home and she’s smarter than they could ever dream of being and the medical degree she’s working on assures her that they’re all going to have alcohol poisoning tomorrow.
She might too, but at least she knows it. She’s probably just bitter. Her boyfriend wound up fucking some sophomore last week and she showed up here without a date and a little bit wrecked and she’s intimidated by all the pretty, skinny girls in her same skimpy dress. She’s doesn’t hate weddings, she’s just bored and sad and she’s drunkenly scanning the room when her eyes get stuck on the kid in the corner.
And that kid in the corner - his name is Sehun, but she doesn’t remember that yet - isn’t really sure how he feels about weddings yet. He’s drunk enough - and thank god they let him drink - not to really hate this one, at least, but he doesn’t know anyone here and he doesn’t trust himself enough to talk to them. His stepbrother is hovering over his new wife and his stepmom is stumbling and his dad is missing in action and he’s mostly just bored. He’s wondering about the girl he escorted out of the aisle, a pretty little redhead with sharp, warm eyes, the one he’d been stealing glances at up until he lost her and his fourth drink about twenty minutes ago, when their eyes meet across the hotel ballroom.
He looks like a kindred spirit, nervous and awkward. She vaguely remembers him as somebody’s college-age pink-haired younger brother from the rehearsal, but now the pink is bleached blonde and he’s all done up in a tuxedo and he looks good.
He’s the youngest groomsman, nineteen and nervous, and she’s the reluctant bridesmaid - her best friend from high school who she hasn’t seen in six years is getting married to his older brother - and they’re both not sure what to do with themselves until they make eye contact and she blushes, smirking, but walks over to him, following the beat of the cover band’s terrible song, her practiced apathy falling apart as she nearly trips over her heels and into his arms.
He catches her, blushing, by the waist. Her weight is pleasant in his arms but it’s gone all too soon as she straightens herself to her full height, which is still a head shorter than him in her high, high heels.
"What’s up?" she asks over the music, laughing at herself, trying not to look as coquettish as she feels with her false eyelashes and vodka blush. He shrugs, half-grinning, trying to look cool.
And then, somehow - they’re both drunk, this whole thing is strange and they both feel like outsiders - she’s laughing for the sheer awkwardness of everything and he’s grinning and they’re stumbling over one another’s introductions, unable to hear for the music, so deafened and drunk that she pulls him, wobbling on five-inch heels, into the women’s restroom by the shirt collar just to be able to hear but he pulls her a little too close when he steadies her and the air is so cold now that they’re off of the dance floor that he can’t help but close up that distance between their lips just as she’s thinking he should kiss her.
She doesn’t know if she said it aloud or what, because he’s kissing her, but before she can really wonder, his tongue is in her mouth and he tastes like white wine and youth and it’s lovely. Sehun, she remembers, biting his lower lip. That’s his name. His hands travel up to her waist, trailing along her curves as they go, following her as she bends back against the sink.
She’s Minseo. He’s known all along, or at least he knew it again the second his fingers met the crook of her arm. They only walked out down the aisle an hour ago, preceding her friend and his step-brother, but time is sticky and slippery and sugar-coated in schnapps and it seems like it’s been absolutely forever.
Her updo hits the mirror glass as Sehun trails his lips down to her neck, nipping at the skin. She inhales sharply and he moves a hand behind her neck. She smiles against him and he picks her up so she’s sitting on the sink - strong arms, she’ll remember - and then his other hand muses its way up her skirt while he sucks at the moon-white flesh of her neck and she doesn’t make any move to stop it, just grinds up against him, precariously balanced, eyes closed. She’s four, five years older than he is but her feet still don’t touch the ground.
She grabs onto his tuxedo jacket for balance, but the fabric is slick and tailored, giving way only to thin air. He wriggles out of it and she cards her hands into his blonde hair, all sprayed and slicked back to make him look older, and she’s not sure if she wants him to look younger or not - he certainly wants to look older, look worthy of the prettiest bridesmaid who he still can’t believe he’s kissing - but she can’t think about it for long because he’s pushing her dress up her legs for better access already and she wants to keep up with him but they’re in a bathroom and that’s not quite right.
“W-wait,” she exhales, still holding him by the hair. “My room’s upstairs an’ my key’s… somewhere… and, um… better go up there, yeah?”
Sehun nods and retracts his hands, rendered dumb by her self-control as she picks herself up.
And after what seems like another eternity, they’re slamming her hotel room door, do-not-disturb sign precariously attached thereto, and falling onto the done-up double bed.
Minseo’s hair is a mess of bobby pins and her heels are on the floor as she tries to reach behind her back to unzip her dress and even though Sehun’s in socks and his shirt is halfway unbuttoned he finds the little eyelet zipper and pulls it down and the curve of her spine is exposed and Sehun’s drunk on that alone, but she moves fast.
Alone and unintimidated, Minseo does her best to strip slowly and prettily, but her lace underwear are wet and her dress suddenly seems so cumbersome. She pulls the dress gracelessly over her shoulders but still manages to impress him as he pulls off his socks and starts at his slacks.
It’s her turn to help him, and she gets him out of his pants and gets him hard, topless and with dexterous fingers and teeth.
She straddles his legs and looks up at him, watching him unbutton, trying to gauge just how stupid this is. They’re both students, sure, and four years isn’t much age difference at all, and she’s not that drunk and he looks up at her then with so much stubborn, lustful honesty in his eyes that she knows he wouldn’t let her drag him into this.
And he’s just in awe of her and a little bit in love-at-first-sight with her. He wants to be her equal but he loves that she’s got power. She’s so small without her heels on but her stomach curves gently outward and the base of her back dimples gently inward and he’s so hard and so drunk but he knows he wants her.
And she wants him right back and she pulls down his boxers, sitting on his thighs and cupping his balls and slipping her tongue along the base of his cock.
It’s bigger than she expected, her Cupid’s bow stretching around its width as he gasps and sputters and pulls her back up to his lips by her hair. He can’t handle anymore of her foreplay. He’s too young, too nervous. He’s sure he’ll come too soon if he can.
Luckily, Minseo seems to understand. She closes her eyes and kisses him deep, eyelashes brushing his cheeks as he slips a hand between her thighs, rubbing her through her underwear. She gyrates her hips into his hand, her breathing shaky at the back of his throat.
He’s good at this. Of course he is. He’s young and smart and tall and sweet. College eats up boys like that.
He’s even better at making her stop thinking about shit like that, though, as he rubs his skinny fingers at her clit and she arches her spine to press against his hand and gets her hands back into his mussed-up hair.
She tugs and he whines. His voice is pleasant, especially so when it’s all needy, and his fingers are quick.
He pushes one inside of her and she clenches around it. She’s warm and wet around him, already eager.
“H-hurry up,” Minseo moans.
He obliges, adds another finger and curls it in conjunction with the other. Her body inverts itself, her heels over his head, her spine a roman arch and her fingers coiled in the comforter.
This isn’t helping anything.
She’s pretty far gone and so is he. The noises she makes go straight to his cock and it’s not fair. Chuntao’s handjobs in the dance practice rooms are nothing compared to this. Minseo, eyeliner smudged though it may be, is some sort of pretty little vixen. Sehun is nothing next to her, just somebody’s skinny little brother, but he wants to please her. The way her cheeks flush and her breath hitches and the way she can stand with her arms crossed against the wall and look so doll-like, so apathetic and irritated and then turn into this the second they’re alone is just too much for him.
He can hardly stomach the fact that he’s good enough for her, or maybe it’s just the white wine twisting his stomach into bows as delicate as the ones on her underwear, white lace and black satin and a complete and total crux of nervousness and lust.
She gets it. Or she doesn’t, but she certainly doesn’t feel as superior to him as he thinks she does - as maybe she should - and she’s so wet and hot that she just wants the shock-blonde stepbrother to fuck her stupid and hold her close.
She needs intimacy and craves uncertainty and pulls herself tighter around his fingers, inhaling and drawing out the moment before picking herself up off of them and pulling his lips to hers.
“Fuck me?”
His throat is parched with the sound of her voice.
“I, um, yeah,” he pants. “D’you have… condoms…?”
“Birth control,” she replies breathlessly, smiling at the practicality of it all, his innocent common sense.
“G-good,” he mumbles, and she pushes her lace underwear down her taut, warm thighs and raises her eyebrows invitingly rather than responding.
He holds her shoulders with long, trembling hands as he keens his hips into hers. She adjusts her hips and wraps her thighs around his, letting him adjust as she tries to regulate her breathing.
But he’s kissing her ear, nipping her neck, and thrusting his hips before she can do that and she’s somehow just as doll-faced now even as her eyes falls shut in pleasure, black eyelashes cutting into red cheeks as Sehun’s hips move with hers and his hands draw goosebumps from the flesh of her thin shoulders.
And Sehun is fucking her as best he can, even though he hasn’t fucked anyone as wonderful as her in his whole short, miserable life. He’s trying and her hands are scratching reminders into his tight shoulderblades and he’s so much more aroused than he’s ever been before.
Or maybe he’s just drunker and she’s just prettier.
He doesn’t care too much either way and he watches her eyes as he grinds his hips into Minseo, cock aching, tiptoeing the edge with the prettiest bridesmaid at the whole goddamn wedding.
He comes first, of course, but he slides his tongue between her thighs, licking her clit and biting the insides of her thighs until she does too.
Minseo’s head falls back onto the sheets and Sehun swallows her taste and brings his head back up the the pillow. They’re grinning and panting and sweaty and drunk and mostly naked, and they fall asleep together on come-stained hotel sheets.
He wakes up before her and tries not to watch her sleep. Even with Sehun’s vision impaired by his pounding hangover, she’s lovely. He rubs his eyes and spends way too long finding every piece of his stupid tuxedo and writing his phone number apologetically on the hotel’s cheap stationery, but she stays peacefully asleep, arms out like she’s still holding him - and he aches to be back in her arms, but he can’t afford to - until he knocks the King James’ Bible out of the half-open drawer wherein his left shoe somehow ended up and it hits the floor too hard and she blinks at him sleepily.
“G’morning.”
Her voice is too sultry and sweet for this early in the morning. He’s petrified, shoe in one hand and bible in the other.
“G-good morning.”
“Sleep well?”
“Y-yeah, I think so.”
“Hungover?”
He nods and instantly regrets it.
“Same, man,” she laughs bitterly, grinning and trying to brush her hair out of her face. She fails endearingly but her stupid, pretty smile doesn’t fade. “Got time for room service?”
He looks at the blinking red digital clock and the sun glaring in the windows. He really doesn’t, but Minseo has a way about her.
Hell, she doesn’t even have the money for it, really, but Sehun has a way about him.
She’ll go deeper into debt because medical school is terrible and he’ll get deeper into trouble with his family because this is the first weekend they’ve spent together in a solid six months but neither one can bring themselves to care because they’re too busy laughing, sitting half-clothed in bed and eating fancy scones, the shock-blonde stepbrother and the bored, doll-faced bridesmaid kissing over a Continental breakfast.
rating: nc-17
length: 2400 words, oneshot
genre: smut
summary: the bored, wrecked bridesmaid and somebody’s shock-blonde stepbrother stumble into each other at some stupid wedding.
note: wrote this while slightly drunk for an anon request on tumblr. het smut is hard and i'm super embarrassed. read it and weep.
Minseo hates weddings. Her hair is all done up in pins and needles and she’s sipping at some expensive champagne in too-high heels while girls she barely knows and doesn’t like get shitfaced and flock her old best friend, who looks absolutely terrified.
She knows she looks stuffy, but in her sad, drunk little head, she has reason to. She was the only one of them who left home and she’s smarter than they could ever dream of being and the medical degree she’s working on assures her that they’re all going to have alcohol poisoning tomorrow.
She might too, but at least she knows it. She’s probably just bitter. Her boyfriend wound up fucking some sophomore last week and she showed up here without a date and a little bit wrecked and she’s intimidated by all the pretty, skinny girls in her same skimpy dress. She’s doesn’t hate weddings, she’s just bored and sad and she’s drunkenly scanning the room when her eyes get stuck on the kid in the corner.
And that kid in the corner - his name is Sehun, but she doesn’t remember that yet - isn’t really sure how he feels about weddings yet. He’s drunk enough - and thank god they let him drink - not to really hate this one, at least, but he doesn’t know anyone here and he doesn’t trust himself enough to talk to them. His stepbrother is hovering over his new wife and his stepmom is stumbling and his dad is missing in action and he’s mostly just bored. He’s wondering about the girl he escorted out of the aisle, a pretty little redhead with sharp, warm eyes, the one he’d been stealing glances at up until he lost her and his fourth drink about twenty minutes ago, when their eyes meet across the hotel ballroom.
He looks like a kindred spirit, nervous and awkward. She vaguely remembers him as somebody’s college-age pink-haired younger brother from the rehearsal, but now the pink is bleached blonde and he’s all done up in a tuxedo and he looks good.
He’s the youngest groomsman, nineteen and nervous, and she’s the reluctant bridesmaid - her best friend from high school who she hasn’t seen in six years is getting married to his older brother - and they’re both not sure what to do with themselves until they make eye contact and she blushes, smirking, but walks over to him, following the beat of the cover band’s terrible song, her practiced apathy falling apart as she nearly trips over her heels and into his arms.
He catches her, blushing, by the waist. Her weight is pleasant in his arms but it’s gone all too soon as she straightens herself to her full height, which is still a head shorter than him in her high, high heels.
"What’s up?" she asks over the music, laughing at herself, trying not to look as coquettish as she feels with her false eyelashes and vodka blush. He shrugs, half-grinning, trying to look cool.
And then, somehow - they’re both drunk, this whole thing is strange and they both feel like outsiders - she’s laughing for the sheer awkwardness of everything and he’s grinning and they’re stumbling over one another’s introductions, unable to hear for the music, so deafened and drunk that she pulls him, wobbling on five-inch heels, into the women’s restroom by the shirt collar just to be able to hear but he pulls her a little too close when he steadies her and the air is so cold now that they’re off of the dance floor that he can’t help but close up that distance between their lips just as she’s thinking he should kiss her.
She doesn’t know if she said it aloud or what, because he’s kissing her, but before she can really wonder, his tongue is in her mouth and he tastes like white wine and youth and it’s lovely. Sehun, she remembers, biting his lower lip. That’s his name. His hands travel up to her waist, trailing along her curves as they go, following her as she bends back against the sink.
She’s Minseo. He’s known all along, or at least he knew it again the second his fingers met the crook of her arm. They only walked out down the aisle an hour ago, preceding her friend and his step-brother, but time is sticky and slippery and sugar-coated in schnapps and it seems like it’s been absolutely forever.
Her updo hits the mirror glass as Sehun trails his lips down to her neck, nipping at the skin. She inhales sharply and he moves a hand behind her neck. She smiles against him and he picks her up so she’s sitting on the sink - strong arms, she’ll remember - and then his other hand muses its way up her skirt while he sucks at the moon-white flesh of her neck and she doesn’t make any move to stop it, just grinds up against him, precariously balanced, eyes closed. She’s four, five years older than he is but her feet still don’t touch the ground.
She grabs onto his tuxedo jacket for balance, but the fabric is slick and tailored, giving way only to thin air. He wriggles out of it and she cards her hands into his blonde hair, all sprayed and slicked back to make him look older, and she’s not sure if she wants him to look younger or not - he certainly wants to look older, look worthy of the prettiest bridesmaid who he still can’t believe he’s kissing - but she can’t think about it for long because he’s pushing her dress up her legs for better access already and she wants to keep up with him but they’re in a bathroom and that’s not quite right.
“W-wait,” she exhales, still holding him by the hair. “My room’s upstairs an’ my key’s… somewhere… and, um… better go up there, yeah?”
Sehun nods and retracts his hands, rendered dumb by her self-control as she picks herself up.
And after what seems like another eternity, they’re slamming her hotel room door, do-not-disturb sign precariously attached thereto, and falling onto the done-up double bed.
Minseo’s hair is a mess of bobby pins and her heels are on the floor as she tries to reach behind her back to unzip her dress and even though Sehun’s in socks and his shirt is halfway unbuttoned he finds the little eyelet zipper and pulls it down and the curve of her spine is exposed and Sehun’s drunk on that alone, but she moves fast.
Alone and unintimidated, Minseo does her best to strip slowly and prettily, but her lace underwear are wet and her dress suddenly seems so cumbersome. She pulls the dress gracelessly over her shoulders but still manages to impress him as he pulls off his socks and starts at his slacks.
It’s her turn to help him, and she gets him out of his pants and gets him hard, topless and with dexterous fingers and teeth.
She straddles his legs and looks up at him, watching him unbutton, trying to gauge just how stupid this is. They’re both students, sure, and four years isn’t much age difference at all, and she’s not that drunk and he looks up at her then with so much stubborn, lustful honesty in his eyes that she knows he wouldn’t let her drag him into this.
And he’s just in awe of her and a little bit in love-at-first-sight with her. He wants to be her equal but he loves that she’s got power. She’s so small without her heels on but her stomach curves gently outward and the base of her back dimples gently inward and he’s so hard and so drunk but he knows he wants her.
And she wants him right back and she pulls down his boxers, sitting on his thighs and cupping his balls and slipping her tongue along the base of his cock.
It’s bigger than she expected, her Cupid’s bow stretching around its width as he gasps and sputters and pulls her back up to his lips by her hair. He can’t handle anymore of her foreplay. He’s too young, too nervous. He’s sure he’ll come too soon if he can.
Luckily, Minseo seems to understand. She closes her eyes and kisses him deep, eyelashes brushing his cheeks as he slips a hand between her thighs, rubbing her through her underwear. She gyrates her hips into his hand, her breathing shaky at the back of his throat.
He’s good at this. Of course he is. He’s young and smart and tall and sweet. College eats up boys like that.
He’s even better at making her stop thinking about shit like that, though, as he rubs his skinny fingers at her clit and she arches her spine to press against his hand and gets her hands back into his mussed-up hair.
She tugs and he whines. His voice is pleasant, especially so when it’s all needy, and his fingers are quick.
He pushes one inside of her and she clenches around it. She’s warm and wet around him, already eager.
“H-hurry up,” Minseo moans.
He obliges, adds another finger and curls it in conjunction with the other. Her body inverts itself, her heels over his head, her spine a roman arch and her fingers coiled in the comforter.
This isn’t helping anything.
She’s pretty far gone and so is he. The noises she makes go straight to his cock and it’s not fair. Chuntao’s handjobs in the dance practice rooms are nothing compared to this. Minseo, eyeliner smudged though it may be, is some sort of pretty little vixen. Sehun is nothing next to her, just somebody’s skinny little brother, but he wants to please her. The way her cheeks flush and her breath hitches and the way she can stand with her arms crossed against the wall and look so doll-like, so apathetic and irritated and then turn into this the second they’re alone is just too much for him.
He can hardly stomach the fact that he’s good enough for her, or maybe it’s just the white wine twisting his stomach into bows as delicate as the ones on her underwear, white lace and black satin and a complete and total crux of nervousness and lust.
She gets it. Or she doesn’t, but she certainly doesn’t feel as superior to him as he thinks she does - as maybe she should - and she’s so wet and hot that she just wants the shock-blonde stepbrother to fuck her stupid and hold her close.
She needs intimacy and craves uncertainty and pulls herself tighter around his fingers, inhaling and drawing out the moment before picking herself up off of them and pulling his lips to hers.
“Fuck me?”
His throat is parched with the sound of her voice.
“I, um, yeah,” he pants. “D’you have… condoms…?”
“Birth control,” she replies breathlessly, smiling at the practicality of it all, his innocent common sense.
“G-good,” he mumbles, and she pushes her lace underwear down her taut, warm thighs and raises her eyebrows invitingly rather than responding.
He holds her shoulders with long, trembling hands as he keens his hips into hers. She adjusts her hips and wraps her thighs around his, letting him adjust as she tries to regulate her breathing.
But he’s kissing her ear, nipping her neck, and thrusting his hips before she can do that and she’s somehow just as doll-faced now even as her eyes falls shut in pleasure, black eyelashes cutting into red cheeks as Sehun’s hips move with hers and his hands draw goosebumps from the flesh of her thin shoulders.
And Sehun is fucking her as best he can, even though he hasn’t fucked anyone as wonderful as her in his whole short, miserable life. He’s trying and her hands are scratching reminders into his tight shoulderblades and he’s so much more aroused than he’s ever been before.
Or maybe he’s just drunker and she’s just prettier.
He doesn’t care too much either way and he watches her eyes as he grinds his hips into Minseo, cock aching, tiptoeing the edge with the prettiest bridesmaid at the whole goddamn wedding.
He comes first, of course, but he slides his tongue between her thighs, licking her clit and biting the insides of her thighs until she does too.
Minseo’s head falls back onto the sheets and Sehun swallows her taste and brings his head back up the the pillow. They’re grinning and panting and sweaty and drunk and mostly naked, and they fall asleep together on come-stained hotel sheets.
He wakes up before her and tries not to watch her sleep. Even with Sehun’s vision impaired by his pounding hangover, she’s lovely. He rubs his eyes and spends way too long finding every piece of his stupid tuxedo and writing his phone number apologetically on the hotel’s cheap stationery, but she stays peacefully asleep, arms out like she’s still holding him - and he aches to be back in her arms, but he can’t afford to - until he knocks the King James’ Bible out of the half-open drawer wherein his left shoe somehow ended up and it hits the floor too hard and she blinks at him sleepily.
“G’morning.”
Her voice is too sultry and sweet for this early in the morning. He’s petrified, shoe in one hand and bible in the other.
“G-good morning.”
“Sleep well?”
“Y-yeah, I think so.”
“Hungover?”
He nods and instantly regrets it.
“Same, man,” she laughs bitterly, grinning and trying to brush her hair out of her face. She fails endearingly but her stupid, pretty smile doesn’t fade. “Got time for room service?”
He looks at the blinking red digital clock and the sun glaring in the windows. He really doesn’t, but Minseo has a way about her.
Hell, she doesn’t even have the money for it, really, but Sehun has a way about him.
She’ll go deeper into debt because medical school is terrible and he’ll get deeper into trouble with his family because this is the first weekend they’ve spent together in a solid six months but neither one can bring themselves to care because they’re too busy laughing, sitting half-clothed in bed and eating fancy scones, the shock-blonde stepbrother and the bored, doll-faced bridesmaid kissing over a Continental breakfast.