cactus nipples [exo]
title: cactus nipples {girlsau}
author: himawarixxsandz
rating: pg-13
pairing(s): chensoo
summary: i think you're cute like a cactus
a/n: in the girlsau current storyline, chensoo are already dating. this is how they got together with some of luhan's introspective and observant commentary at the end bringing it back to the current storyline.
In her first year, Kim Jongdae makes the cheerleading squad, is voted into the student council as treasurer, joins the ecology club, the Model UN club, is handpicked into the honor society, tutors suffering first years after school in the library, and meets with the current student council president to discuss funding for upcoming student events. She’s consistently in the high ranks of every exam, her homework is impeccable and immaculate, teachers swoon at the sight of her, and boys from every year want to slip their hands under her crisp, plaid uniform skirt.
On the weekends, Jongdae has a tight schedule of ferrying herself to and fro cheerleading practice, Model UN practice, ecology club meetings, more tutoring, and listening to the current student council president bemoan the state of their funding affairs for the next school fair. Between Saturday and Sunday, normally around the hours of midnight to sunrise, Jongdae can be found pinned to the sides of her closest friends, Kim Minseok and Byun Baekhyun. Occasionally, Jongdae can also be found pinned to the wall, quite intoxicated, at some raucous, raunchy house party where the police will normally be involved shortly thereafter.
Sunday morning, Jongdae will be scouring every cyworld, every me2day, every twitter, every social media networking site of every person ever that she can recall was at the party or could have been or might have been and finding some way, in the way that only Kim Jongdae can, to delete all the evidence of her very underage self participating in any form of alcohol consumption or sexual activity.
Do Kyungsoo is the head of the gardening club.
Somehow, they happen.
Boys have always liked Jongdae.
Jongdae likes Jongdae, so when she turns thirteen and she starts feeling warm gazes from that boy in her piano class-from the boy across the street-from her neighbor’s older brother-from her cram school teacher’s nephew-Jongdae concludes that she and members of the male specimen must share the same consensus.
When she gets to high school, it’s more of the same only amplified. There are lots and lots of boys there, and Jongdae feels lots and lots more warm gazes. She gets confessions and she gets boys who will drop by her locker to help hold a textbook, let her see the notes from the class she missed because of a student council meeting, snag the last cream cheese cake from the cafeteria and place it on her desk.
It’s fun and nice, but furniture is also fun and nice. Jongdae doesn’t have feelings for furniture though.
“You need something exciting,” Minseok tells her one day when Jongdae is at the older girl’s house, lying across the second year’s bed, on a Saturday morning (cheer practice has been cancelled on account of the captain being landed in the hospital for a burnt forehead). “You need sex.”
Jongdae sits up and looks to where Minseok is curled on the floor near the bed, scrolling through her phone. The first year frowns. “Unnie,” she says, “I’m saving that for someone special.”
Minseok looks confused.
“I want my first time to be special,” Jongdae explains, turning onto her stomach and waving her bare feet in the air.
Minseok looks desperately confused.
Just as Jongdae began to contemplate if maybe this needed diagrams or a pop culture reference, something hits Minseok’s balcony window, a voice shouting from the next apartment over. Minseok gets to her knees, blinking for a moment, before she stands up and puts her phone on her desk. “Oh, right,” she says, “I was supposed to let Kyungsoo borrow our old flower pot.”
Jongdae stares as Minseok passes her, throwing open the windows. “Who’s Kyungsoo?”
“Me?”
A boy around Jongdae and Minseok’s own age climbs easily through the window, toeing his shoes off right on the windowsill and padding in grey ankle socks over Minseok’s carpet. He has large eyes and full lips, expression blank and uninterested as he looks Jongdae over. “We go to the same school,” he says, staring down back at Jongdae as Minseok begins rummaging in her closet for this supposed flower pot. “We’re in the same year.”
She squints. “Are you sure?”
Oddly enough, he smiles at that jab, and Jongdae feels herself swallow dryly. She looks away for no apparent reason other than to stop looking at his smile because it makes her feel uncomfortably warm.
“Kyungsoo-ah,” Minseok says, emerging from the depths of her closet-for more than just clothes and shoes, as she comes out with a musty plant pot in her small hands, “here you go.”
He takes it and kisses her on the cheek. “Thanks, noona,” he says, turning and slipping on his shoes. He waves behind himself as he climbs back over the ledge. Minseok closes the windows.
“Unnie,” Jongdae says, as Minseok reclaims her phone as well as her spot on the carpet. “Does he really go to our school?”
The older girl raises her eyebrows. “You really haven’t seen him in class? Ever? I think his locker is near yours.”
Jongdae is the one who feels confused now. “He looks ten.”
“Yeah,” Minseok says, lifting her phone above her face for a selca.
Jongdae is desperately confused now. “I want him to suck me through my panties.”
Minseok’s phone’s camera clicks. “That’s the spirit.”
As it turns out, Do Kyungsoo does attend their school. He also really is a first year, just like Jongdae, and his locker is only a block from Jongdae’s. He’s in the homeroom next door to hers.
As it also turns out, Do Kyungsoo is the only male human specimen that doesn’t share the general consensus that Jongdae shares with the rest of the male human specimen she has ever had contact with.
It’s not that Kyungsoo doesn’t seem to hate Jongdae, but he doesn’t particularly seem to like her either-he definitely greets her when she greets him first, but it’s with a blank and unassuming Jongdae-shii and he never leaves her the last cream cheese cake or offers to carry her books or tries to peak under her skirt when she twirls or gives her the notes that she missed or picks up her fallen pens for her.
“Maybe I’m doing it wrong,” Jongdae sighs to Baekhyun, as they stretch each other before practice.
Baekhyun pulls Jongdae’s arms. “Have you flashed him?”
Jongdae frowns. “Yes.”
Baekhyun blinks expectantly.
“I don’t think he saw me,” Jongdae says sadly. “He was brushing a cactus.”
Minseok has been friends with Kyungsoo for as long as they’ve been neighbors. Minseok has had sex with Kyungsoo. Minseok knows Kyungsoo for more than just that-gardening-first-year-laced-even-straighter-than-vice-president-second-year-Kim-Junmyeon. But when Jongdae hugs Minseok around the tummy in the girl’s bathroom one afternoon a few minutes before their lunch period ends and subtly, and with dignity, pleads for the secret to unlocking Do Kyungsoo’s fly, Minseok merely continues to re-pin her hair.
“I thought you loved me, unnie,” Jongdae says mournfully.
“Kyungsoo is picky about pussies,” Minseok intones wisely, spritzing herself with vanilla body spray and Jongdae gets caught in the crossfire.
The first year sneezes.
Jongdae just can’t understand what more she can do short of standing on the teacher’s desk in the middle of second period-the only period she has with Kyungsoo-stripping down and fingering herself in front of his face (he sits in the front row). Even then, she feels like he might just brush his stupid cactus or water his stupider fichus.
Or, Do Kyungsoo might just be a real bastard and re-soil his ultimately stupid petunias.
Wondering, though, is for wishy-washy, weepy flower girls, which Kim Jongdae is not. She’s young and beautiful and confident and she’s going to confront him about his speculated hatred of her for absolutely no apparent reason. At the very least, if he’s just not interested, Jongdae can befriend him and more slowly work her way into his leafy little heart.
In the meantime, she sighs for what feels like the seventy-third time this week and looks over at the second year who’s currently writing the history paper Jongdae doesn’t quite feel up to tonight. “Oppa,” she says, “I’m pretty, right?”
He swoons as he changes the margin.
She finds him in the classroom that the gardening club meets in. He’s cleaning up after today’s meeting, dusting bits of soil that have fallen onto the desks with a damp towel. All the other members have left, and it’s just them when Jongdae shuts the door behind her. Kyungsoo glances up when he hears the snap.
“D’you need something?” is the first thing he asks, and right there-that’s already a very big problem to Jongdae.
“Do you think I’m pretty?” Jongdae asks, perching on the corner of the desk Kyungsoo has just finished cleaning. She watches him tuck the towel between his belt and his waistband and it’s lame and attractive all at once and she wants to untuck his shirt and pull him in by the collar and kiss plump lips until they’re swollen and pink.
It’s at least two hours after school has ended and he hasn’t even loosened his tie yet.
Kyungsoo just stands there, buttons buttoned tighter than Kim Junmyeon, bits of soil on his sweater vest, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, full lips in an eternal pout, large eyes as blank as they always are. “You’re pretty,” he says simply.
“Do you think I am?”
He shrugs and nods.
“But you don’t like me,” Jongdae states and she doesn’t know why saying it out loud in front of him makes her even more disappointed. It makes her sad and boys aren’t supposed to make Jongdae sad. Boys aren’t supposed to make anyone sad. Boys are fun.
Usually.
Kyungsoo looks confused, the first expression she feels like he’s ever made at her aside from that one, rare smile at Minseok’s house when they first met (the smile that she replays in her mind over and over again every time he passes by her in the halls and greets her like a stranger). “I do like you.”
“You care more about your cactus than my boobs,” she accuses, folding her arms and pursing her lips.
He stares at her for another long moment before he breaks into that same smile that makes her want to squish his face between her hands and suck his dick all at once. “Oh,” he says, amused and bright. He still looks like a ten-year-old with that smile, but as he leans back against another desk and puts his hands in his pockets, she just wants to wrap her legs around his hips. “That.”
She frowns.
“I like cute things,” he says, “like my cactus-and your nipples. You have cute nipples. I can’t like both of them equally?”
Jongdae’s frown deepens. Wherever this is going, it seems to be getting farther and farther from her original goal of having Do Kyungsoo’s lips between her thighs.
“You flashed me in the middle of second period,” Kyungsoo goes on. “So even if I think your nipples are cute, I can’t do anything about it then, right? But I can still brush my cactus.”
Jongdae wonders if Minseok knows that her neighbor is a nutcase.
A really, really perfect nutcase.
“What about now?” Jongdae asks, and her hopes re-inflate a little. They inflate even further when Kyungsoo stands up off the desk and pins Jongdae back into hers, bending her backwards over it until her body is arching into his.
One of his hands snakes underneath her skirt and he presses a finger against her. Heat rushes down between her legs as he rubs into her with just that one finger. She squirms a bit but he just insistently presses up a second finger, just through her panties, and she knows that he must feel the dampness by now.
“I think we can do something about it now,” Kyungsoo smiles, and suddenly it’s not so squishy.
Suddenly, he doesn’t look ten-years-old.
“Wow,” Luhan squints-frowns. “That’s weird.”
Junmyeon looks over, follows Luhan’s gaze across the cafeteria. “What?”
Luhan jerks his head, pointing as subtly as he can to where Kim Jongdae-one of Minseok’s closest friends, Luhan has since learned-currently has her arms draped over the shoulders of the second year who Luhan recognizes as the head of the gardening club. The boy continues to eat his rice and soup as if a stunningly pretty, frighteningly smart, perfect, well-endowed treasurer and co-captain of the cheerleading squad isn’t pressing her breasts into his back.
“Oh, Kyungsoo and Jongdae?” Junmyeon says, midway through spooning his own soup onto his eggs. “It’s their first anniversary today, I think. She probably snuck out of class to see him during his lunch period.”
“They’re together?” and Luhan quickly puts his hand under his mouth to catch the noodles that he hadn’t realized he’d forgotten to swallow before speaking. Junmyeon looks faintly disgusted, pushing a napkin towards the other boy. Kim Jongdae is in the same league as Kim Minseok and Byun Baekhyun (beautiful, ferocious, and unattainable) from what Luhan has gathered thus far in his South Korean high school adventures, Season One. And the head of the gardening club is-well-the head of the gardening club.
Junmyeon smiles vaguely as soon as Luhan has finished chewing and wiping the soup away. “It’s a long story.”
“Really?” Luhan slurps another noodle.
“No,” Junmyeon says, picking up a slice of beef, “but we should finish eating before I tell you.”
author: himawarixxsandz
rating: pg-13
pairing(s): chensoo
summary: i think you're cute like a cactus
a/n: in the girlsau current storyline, chensoo are already dating. this is how they got together with some of luhan's introspective and observant commentary at the end bringing it back to the current storyline.
In her first year, Kim Jongdae makes the cheerleading squad, is voted into the student council as treasurer, joins the ecology club, the Model UN club, is handpicked into the honor society, tutors suffering first years after school in the library, and meets with the current student council president to discuss funding for upcoming student events. She’s consistently in the high ranks of every exam, her homework is impeccable and immaculate, teachers swoon at the sight of her, and boys from every year want to slip their hands under her crisp, plaid uniform skirt.
On the weekends, Jongdae has a tight schedule of ferrying herself to and fro cheerleading practice, Model UN practice, ecology club meetings, more tutoring, and listening to the current student council president bemoan the state of their funding affairs for the next school fair. Between Saturday and Sunday, normally around the hours of midnight to sunrise, Jongdae can be found pinned to the sides of her closest friends, Kim Minseok and Byun Baekhyun. Occasionally, Jongdae can also be found pinned to the wall, quite intoxicated, at some raucous, raunchy house party where the police will normally be involved shortly thereafter.
Sunday morning, Jongdae will be scouring every cyworld, every me2day, every twitter, every social media networking site of every person ever that she can recall was at the party or could have been or might have been and finding some way, in the way that only Kim Jongdae can, to delete all the evidence of her very underage self participating in any form of alcohol consumption or sexual activity.
Do Kyungsoo is the head of the gardening club.
Somehow, they happen.
Boys have always liked Jongdae.
Jongdae likes Jongdae, so when she turns thirteen and she starts feeling warm gazes from that boy in her piano class-from the boy across the street-from her neighbor’s older brother-from her cram school teacher’s nephew-Jongdae concludes that she and members of the male specimen must share the same consensus.
When she gets to high school, it’s more of the same only amplified. There are lots and lots of boys there, and Jongdae feels lots and lots more warm gazes. She gets confessions and she gets boys who will drop by her locker to help hold a textbook, let her see the notes from the class she missed because of a student council meeting, snag the last cream cheese cake from the cafeteria and place it on her desk.
It’s fun and nice, but furniture is also fun and nice. Jongdae doesn’t have feelings for furniture though.
“You need something exciting,” Minseok tells her one day when Jongdae is at the older girl’s house, lying across the second year’s bed, on a Saturday morning (cheer practice has been cancelled on account of the captain being landed in the hospital for a burnt forehead). “You need sex.”
Jongdae sits up and looks to where Minseok is curled on the floor near the bed, scrolling through her phone. The first year frowns. “Unnie,” she says, “I’m saving that for someone special.”
Minseok looks confused.
“I want my first time to be special,” Jongdae explains, turning onto her stomach and waving her bare feet in the air.
Minseok looks desperately confused.
Just as Jongdae began to contemplate if maybe this needed diagrams or a pop culture reference, something hits Minseok’s balcony window, a voice shouting from the next apartment over. Minseok gets to her knees, blinking for a moment, before she stands up and puts her phone on her desk. “Oh, right,” she says, “I was supposed to let Kyungsoo borrow our old flower pot.”
Jongdae stares as Minseok passes her, throwing open the windows. “Who’s Kyungsoo?”
“Me?”
A boy around Jongdae and Minseok’s own age climbs easily through the window, toeing his shoes off right on the windowsill and padding in grey ankle socks over Minseok’s carpet. He has large eyes and full lips, expression blank and uninterested as he looks Jongdae over. “We go to the same school,” he says, staring down back at Jongdae as Minseok begins rummaging in her closet for this supposed flower pot. “We’re in the same year.”
She squints. “Are you sure?”
Oddly enough, he smiles at that jab, and Jongdae feels herself swallow dryly. She looks away for no apparent reason other than to stop looking at his smile because it makes her feel uncomfortably warm.
“Kyungsoo-ah,” Minseok says, emerging from the depths of her closet-for more than just clothes and shoes, as she comes out with a musty plant pot in her small hands, “here you go.”
He takes it and kisses her on the cheek. “Thanks, noona,” he says, turning and slipping on his shoes. He waves behind himself as he climbs back over the ledge. Minseok closes the windows.
“Unnie,” Jongdae says, as Minseok reclaims her phone as well as her spot on the carpet. “Does he really go to our school?”
The older girl raises her eyebrows. “You really haven’t seen him in class? Ever? I think his locker is near yours.”
Jongdae is the one who feels confused now. “He looks ten.”
“Yeah,” Minseok says, lifting her phone above her face for a selca.
Jongdae is desperately confused now. “I want him to suck me through my panties.”
Minseok’s phone’s camera clicks. “That’s the spirit.”
As it turns out, Do Kyungsoo does attend their school. He also really is a first year, just like Jongdae, and his locker is only a block from Jongdae’s. He’s in the homeroom next door to hers.
As it also turns out, Do Kyungsoo is the only male human specimen that doesn’t share the general consensus that Jongdae shares with the rest of the male human specimen she has ever had contact with.
It’s not that Kyungsoo doesn’t seem to hate Jongdae, but he doesn’t particularly seem to like her either-he definitely greets her when she greets him first, but it’s with a blank and unassuming Jongdae-shii and he never leaves her the last cream cheese cake or offers to carry her books or tries to peak under her skirt when she twirls or gives her the notes that she missed or picks up her fallen pens for her.
“Maybe I’m doing it wrong,” Jongdae sighs to Baekhyun, as they stretch each other before practice.
Baekhyun pulls Jongdae’s arms. “Have you flashed him?”
Jongdae frowns. “Yes.”
Baekhyun blinks expectantly.
“I don’t think he saw me,” Jongdae says sadly. “He was brushing a cactus.”
Minseok has been friends with Kyungsoo for as long as they’ve been neighbors. Minseok has had sex with Kyungsoo. Minseok knows Kyungsoo for more than just that-gardening-first-year-laced-even-straighter-than-vice-president-second-year-Kim-Junmyeon. But when Jongdae hugs Minseok around the tummy in the girl’s bathroom one afternoon a few minutes before their lunch period ends and subtly, and with dignity, pleads for the secret to unlocking Do Kyungsoo’s fly, Minseok merely continues to re-pin her hair.
“I thought you loved me, unnie,” Jongdae says mournfully.
“Kyungsoo is picky about pussies,” Minseok intones wisely, spritzing herself with vanilla body spray and Jongdae gets caught in the crossfire.
The first year sneezes.
Jongdae just can’t understand what more she can do short of standing on the teacher’s desk in the middle of second period-the only period she has with Kyungsoo-stripping down and fingering herself in front of his face (he sits in the front row). Even then, she feels like he might just brush his stupid cactus or water his stupider fichus.
Or, Do Kyungsoo might just be a real bastard and re-soil his ultimately stupid petunias.
Wondering, though, is for wishy-washy, weepy flower girls, which Kim Jongdae is not. She’s young and beautiful and confident and she’s going to confront him about his speculated hatred of her for absolutely no apparent reason. At the very least, if he’s just not interested, Jongdae can befriend him and more slowly work her way into his leafy little heart.
In the meantime, she sighs for what feels like the seventy-third time this week and looks over at the second year who’s currently writing the history paper Jongdae doesn’t quite feel up to tonight. “Oppa,” she says, “I’m pretty, right?”
He swoons as he changes the margin.
She finds him in the classroom that the gardening club meets in. He’s cleaning up after today’s meeting, dusting bits of soil that have fallen onto the desks with a damp towel. All the other members have left, and it’s just them when Jongdae shuts the door behind her. Kyungsoo glances up when he hears the snap.
“D’you need something?” is the first thing he asks, and right there-that’s already a very big problem to Jongdae.
“Do you think I’m pretty?” Jongdae asks, perching on the corner of the desk Kyungsoo has just finished cleaning. She watches him tuck the towel between his belt and his waistband and it’s lame and attractive all at once and she wants to untuck his shirt and pull him in by the collar and kiss plump lips until they’re swollen and pink.
It’s at least two hours after school has ended and he hasn’t even loosened his tie yet.
Kyungsoo just stands there, buttons buttoned tighter than Kim Junmyeon, bits of soil on his sweater vest, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, full lips in an eternal pout, large eyes as blank as they always are. “You’re pretty,” he says simply.
“Do you think I am?”
He shrugs and nods.
“But you don’t like me,” Jongdae states and she doesn’t know why saying it out loud in front of him makes her even more disappointed. It makes her sad and boys aren’t supposed to make Jongdae sad. Boys aren’t supposed to make anyone sad. Boys are fun.
Usually.
Kyungsoo looks confused, the first expression she feels like he’s ever made at her aside from that one, rare smile at Minseok’s house when they first met (the smile that she replays in her mind over and over again every time he passes by her in the halls and greets her like a stranger). “I do like you.”
“You care more about your cactus than my boobs,” she accuses, folding her arms and pursing her lips.
He stares at her for another long moment before he breaks into that same smile that makes her want to squish his face between her hands and suck his dick all at once. “Oh,” he says, amused and bright. He still looks like a ten-year-old with that smile, but as he leans back against another desk and puts his hands in his pockets, she just wants to wrap her legs around his hips. “That.”
She frowns.
“I like cute things,” he says, “like my cactus-and your nipples. You have cute nipples. I can’t like both of them equally?”
Jongdae’s frown deepens. Wherever this is going, it seems to be getting farther and farther from her original goal of having Do Kyungsoo’s lips between her thighs.
“You flashed me in the middle of second period,” Kyungsoo goes on. “So even if I think your nipples are cute, I can’t do anything about it then, right? But I can still brush my cactus.”
Jongdae wonders if Minseok knows that her neighbor is a nutcase.
A really, really perfect nutcase.
“What about now?” Jongdae asks, and her hopes re-inflate a little. They inflate even further when Kyungsoo stands up off the desk and pins Jongdae back into hers, bending her backwards over it until her body is arching into his.
One of his hands snakes underneath her skirt and he presses a finger against her. Heat rushes down between her legs as he rubs into her with just that one finger. She squirms a bit but he just insistently presses up a second finger, just through her panties, and she knows that he must feel the dampness by now.
“I think we can do something about it now,” Kyungsoo smiles, and suddenly it’s not so squishy.
Suddenly, he doesn’t look ten-years-old.
“Wow,” Luhan squints-frowns. “That’s weird.”
Junmyeon looks over, follows Luhan’s gaze across the cafeteria. “What?”
Luhan jerks his head, pointing as subtly as he can to where Kim Jongdae-one of Minseok’s closest friends, Luhan has since learned-currently has her arms draped over the shoulders of the second year who Luhan recognizes as the head of the gardening club. The boy continues to eat his rice and soup as if a stunningly pretty, frighteningly smart, perfect, well-endowed treasurer and co-captain of the cheerleading squad isn’t pressing her breasts into his back.
“Oh, Kyungsoo and Jongdae?” Junmyeon says, midway through spooning his own soup onto his eggs. “It’s their first anniversary today, I think. She probably snuck out of class to see him during his lunch period.”
“They’re together?” and Luhan quickly puts his hand under his mouth to catch the noodles that he hadn’t realized he’d forgotten to swallow before speaking. Junmyeon looks faintly disgusted, pushing a napkin towards the other boy. Kim Jongdae is in the same league as Kim Minseok and Byun Baekhyun (beautiful, ferocious, and unattainable) from what Luhan has gathered thus far in his South Korean high school adventures, Season One. And the head of the gardening club is-well-the head of the gardening club.
Junmyeon smiles vaguely as soon as Luhan has finished chewing and wiping the soup away. “It’s a long story.”
“Really?” Luhan slurps another noodle.
“No,” Junmyeon says, picking up a slice of beef, “but we should finish eating before I tell you.”