exomeme | part two hundred and twelve

anon this is so cute! i'm feeling all fuzzy inside haaaaa..

screams so cute ;;

"Ass Infatuation" ofc bbh would lol

moddir, we don't get theme multipliers with the free kick multiplier right?

can any baeknons hook me up with a good picture of him rectangle smiling head on at the camera?

awww nonnie this is cute!

anon this is so qt ;;

nope! team multipliers do stack on the free kick multiplier though

bring it up in mods' feedback/concern posts and maybe they'll include them next time :3

;;;;;;;

lmao it's great

okay o/

theme: college/school, tutor au, yixing has a hard time getting chinese into baekhyun's head and enlists tao's help
+ team a multiplier

2572w

Baekhyun drops his head onto the library table. "Hyung," he moans. "This isn't working." He lets his fingers unclench, and his pencil rolls out toward the edge.

Yixing sighs and rescues it before it can hit the floor, folds it back into Baekhyun's slack hand. "C'mon, Baekhyun. It isn't that hard."

Baekhyun raises his head again and sends him a mulish look, like he's eleven years old instead of almost twenty-one. "Chinese is the hardest thing in the entire world, hyung," he says flatly.

"Harder than jacking off without waking Chanyeol up in the middle of the night?" Yixing suggests, and Baekhyun actually thinks about it seriously before tightening the grip on his pencil.

"That's literally impossible, so no," he says. "Chanyeol always wakes up whenever I'm trying to rub one out, without fail. It's like he has boner radar or something." Baekhyun waggles his eyebrows. "Speaking of which, maybe teaching me every dirty phrase you know in Chinese would motivate me to be a better student."

"I don't think your professor would be very happy if you wrote another paper about fucking people's moms."

"Maybe he's into that," Baekhyun says, waggling his eyebrows again. "Mommy kink. It's a thing, you know? Like the flip side of daddy kink. Anyway—besides, my paper wasn't just about MILFs, it was about modern Chinese slang."

"I saw that paper, Baekhyun. You can barely write about what color shoes you wore today, you definitely did not write about modern Chinese slang." Yixing jabs a firm finger on the page in front of him. He switches into Chinese. "Let's go. Tell me about what you ate for lunch today."

Baekhyun wrinkles his nose. Then he perks up, an unholy glint in his eyes. "Dick?" he says hopefully, in Korean. "Teach me how to say dick in Chinese, hyung. Pleaaaase?"

Yixing drops his head onto the library table.

The next week, Yixing tries bribing Baekhyun with actual food he smuggles into the library, those little milk caramel candies he likes so much. It works for about two words, and then he's back to his usual antics, bugging Yixing about everything under the sun, the light in the library being too bright, a sudden migraine attack, anything to keep from actually drilling Chinese into his head.

"Why am I taking this class?" Baekhyun moans, head buried in his textbook this time.

Yixing reaches out to ruffle his hair. "Because you were still drunk the morning of registration. I remember you telling me—"

"Yeah," Baekhyun says hollowly. "I wanted to learn how to score Chinese chicks. And dudes. Hot people. I should've just invested in a night life travel guide or something."

Yixing eases the textbook out from under Baekhyun's head. "Look," he says, prodding Baekhyun's arm and pointing at the latest lesson. "This whole chapter is about clothing and fashion. You could make conversation that way."

"That's nice, hyung," Baekhyun says with a jaw-cracking yawn, tossing his arms up in a long stretch. He hooks it over Yixing's shoulders on the way down, a big grin on his face. In Chinese, he says, "What are you wearing? Can you take it off?"

Yixing sends him a very tired look. "Do I even want to know where you learned that from?"

Baekhyun picks his phone up and waves it around. "Chinese people sext too, right?"

Despite the failed attempt, it does give Yixing a sense that he might have something to work with. At their next tutoring session, Yixing drags Lu Han along and presents him a wig as Baekhyun strolls into the library.

"No way, man," Lu Han says flatly. "Not even for you."

Baekhyun's gaze hops from the wig in Yixing's hands to Lu Han's pinched face, and he starts laughing so loud everyone else in their wing of the library turns around to send them extremely irritated glares.

"Keep your voice down," Lu Han hisses, snatching the wig from Yixing and stuffing it back in his backpack. Baekhyun plops down onto his chair and wipes a couple of tears from his eyes.

"It was worth a try," Yixing says with an innocuous expression. "Lu Han is very pretty. He'd make a cute girl."

"Good luck with Chinese 102, Baekhyun," Lu Han says, flipping the bird at Yixing before hightailing it.

Baekhyun does become a little more receptive when Yixing brings other people to study with him. At the very least, it means Baekhyun has to direct his derailing methods at twice as many people, and Yixing can wear him down into doing some actual work more easily. Still, Baekhyun's knowledge retention is pretty low in comparison to the other things Yixing knows he can pick up with a snap of his pretty fingers. It's frustrating as a tutor and as a friend, not knowing how to help him improve.

It isn't until Yixing remembers how he picked up Korean so quickly that he figures out a better approach. There isn't really an easy way to spring it on Baekhyun without making it awkward, though, so Yixing just has to be content to wait for the right time.

Luckily, Baekhyun himself naturally starts getting desperate when midterms week looms closer. He calls Yixing up at nine on Sunday night, manic fervor lacing his voice, and says, "Are you free? Can we meet up? I really need help."

"Glad to see you're taking some initiative," Yixing remarks when he finds Baekhyun already sitting at their usual table, white knuckling his textbook.

"I'm so fucked," Baekhyun mutters, and then repeats it in Chinese. "Yixing, fuck, what do I do?"

"Relax," Yixing says. "You still have a few days before the exam." He pulls a chair up next to Baekhyun and points to the first word. "Now repeat after me."

Baekhyun isn't a dumb guy. He's better at this than he gives himself credit for, and he works especially well under pressure. Just needs the right impetus to apply himself. Yixing knows—they've taken composition classes at K-ARTS together, and when Baekhyun really cares he can churn shit out like it's nothing. But right now, he's too twitchy and distracted and stressed out to be effective. Trying to cram isn't helping with anything.

"You're so tense," Yixing finally says, after Baekhyun fails another listening comprehension exercise. Baekhyun scoots back in his chair and groans in frustration, grimacing as he stretches backward. Yixing sighs and pulls his phone out. "I wanted to save this for after you aced your exam, but. I guess necessity is the mother of invention."

"The mother of what?" Baekhyun asks, eyebrows furrowing together.

"Just try to read the next passage," Yixing suggests, and sits back to wait.

Zitao shows up in D-level ten minutes later, dressed to the nines in leopard print and skinny jeans and dark shades, even though it's like eleven on a Sunday night. Baekhyun perks up when he sees him, reaches his hand out for an elaborate greeting handshake. "Hey, Taozi. What are you here for?"

Tao raises his eyebrows at Yixing, who nods wearily. He slides beneath the table before Baekhyun can do anything more than jump in his seat. "Gotta bring out the big guns," Yixing says, folding his arms and propping them on the desk. "Tao has graciously volunteered to reward you for your progress. If there is any, tonight, which there might not be." Baekhyun's face stays blank until Tao starts working at the zipper of his pants, and then slow comprehension dawns on his face.

"Oh my God," he says, and then straightens up in his seat, legs spreading apart, and corrects himself in Chinese. "I mean, oh my God."

Yixing smiles faintly and tugs the study guide out of Baekhyun's notebook. Baekhyun jumps as Zitao pulls his boxers down and leisurely strokes him to full hardness under the table. "Alright. If all goes well, you'll get a nice blowjob out of this. For every correct answer—"

"I get it," Baekhyun says quickly, struggling to keep a straight face already.

"Don't be a minuteman," Tao puts in helpfully from below, in Chinese, and Baekhyun squints down at him with halfhearted suspicion when Yixing starts laughing.

"Okay," Yixing says, switching into slower cadenced Chinese as well. "You only need to review the chapter on food and the chapter on clothing. You'll be fine." He gestures down at himself. "What am I wearing?"

Baekhyun narrows his eyes. "Purple shirt," he says, and hisses between his teeth when Zitao does something beneath the table. "Blue jeans, tennis shoes, black—black zip-up jacket?"

"Good," Yixing says. "Write it all down."

Baekhyun's handwriting is shakier than usual, for obvious reasons, and slower, but it's still legible.

"You're doing really well," Yixing says, trying to be encouraging, but for some reason Baekhyun's neck flushes a deep red.

"Next question, please," he stutters in stilted Chinese.

"What did you eat for lunch today?"

The corner of Baekhyun's mouth jumps, and he says, as perfect as his Chinese will get, "It really was dick, hyung."

Yixing rolls his eyes. "Come on, give me a food, or else—" He reaches down and stills Zitao's head. A little whimper escapes Baekhyun's throat and his whole body moves forward.

"Okay, okay, um—I had vegetables."

Yixing tosses him a disappointed glance and Baekhyun's eyes widen a little. "You have to be a little more specific than that."

Under the table, Zitao pops off Baekhyun completely, holding him down by his hips so he can't fuck into Zitao's mouth. "Shit," Baekhyun says, gripping his pencil with an iron fist. "I had—a salad. With lettuce and carrots and mushrooms—" Zitao ducks down again and Baekhyun's knee hits the leg of the table. He lapses into Korean again, a streaming babble of words: "D'you think my brain is going to associate Chinese with sex now? Or like, will I get turned on every time I hear someone speak Mandarin—"

"Focus, Baekhyun," Yixing interrupts drily. "Write it all down."

Baekhyun does. Yixing moves his hand off Zitao's head and Zitao goes to town again, hums a bit around Baekhyun's dick, arms locked around his legs to keep him from shuffling too much. Baekhyun's breath catches in his chest at the next loud slurp of Zitao's tongue. Yixing discreetly adjusts his pants and points at a matching exercise on Baekhyun's study guide.

"If you complete this with no mistakes, I'll let you come." Yixing squints when Baekhyun doesn't get it in Chinese, and repeats himself in Korean. "Or, well, I'll let Zitao make you come."

Baekhyun's eyes pop open. He scrambles to obey, left hand latched onto his right wrist to keep it steady. Yixing finds he rather likes being in charge, even if it's only temporary. He likes being in control of Baekhyun, who's otherwise so rowdy and unmanageable. Taming the beast, so to speak. It isn't so hard, really, if you know what he's like.

Baekhyun makes a couple of mistakes on exercise, to his immense disappointment, but not as many as he would've if his mind had been wandering as usual. It's progress. Of course Baekhyun would find sexual favors motivational. Zitao gives Baekhyun's dick a couple of enthusiastic sucks before moving back again. Baekhyun's pencil almost slides out of his hand as Yixing instructs him to continue to the next exercise. Sentence completion. Simple stuff.

When Yixing's gaze travels down beneath the table again, Zitao's got fingers loosely circled around the base of Baekhyun's dick to keep him from coming. Yixing pushes Baekhyun's sweaty bangs out of his face and says, right into his ear just to watch him shiver, "Tell me everything you know about lingerie."

Baekhyun lets out a huff of shaky laughter. "Don't think I—don't think I don't see what you're doing, hyung, trying to take advantage of my incredible fount of information." But there's a spark in his eye as he launches into a long, rambling spiel about the pros and cons of lace bras versus negligees. His explanations are pretty crude in the grand scheme of things given his limited vocabulary, and he still falls into Korean when Chinese fails him, but it's passable. His sentence structure is pretty good for a non-native speaker who's just taken a semester of Chinese. It's nothing he could ever use on an exam, but like before—it's progress.

In the meantime, Zitao's head's been bobbing faster and faster. Yixing's pants are uncomfortably tight, now, and Baekhyun's eyes are a little wild. He grabs Yixing's hand and strokes up toward his arm, a pleading look on his face.

"Can I come? Please, hyung, I need to—"

Yixing nudges the crown of Zitao's head again. Zitao lets go of the base of Baekhyun's cock and pushes his face all the way down into Baekhyun's crotch, nose bumping against the smooth skin below his navel, the slice of stomach that's been exposed because his shirt's been rucked up. Baekhyun lets out a soft groan and comes in Zitao's mouth, head tipped over onto Yixing's shoulder. Yixing runs a finger through the sweat on his neck, scratching soothingly at his skin, and wipes the damp perspiration off on Baekhyun's shirt.

Zitao makes a face when he unfolds himself from beneath the table. "My legs hurt. Next time can we do that on a bed or something?"

"C'mere," Baekhyun says, dragging Zitao down onto a chair. He reaches down to massage his kneecaps, a dreamily content look on his face.

"I knew there was a way to unlock your true potential," Yixing remarks, beaming.

"Should've thought of it earlier," Baekhyun says, still a little out of breath. "We could've been doing this all semester."

Yixing shrugs. "Better late than never."

"Seriously, hyung," Zitao rasps, sounding disdainful. "I thought you knew. How do you think we got so good at Korean?"

"What do you mean, good?" Baekhyun says, an unrepentant grin on his face, and Zitao smacks him on the shoulder with a long-suffering expression.

"I'm being serious! Joonmyun-hyung tutored us."

Baekhyun blinks. His head swivels toward Yixing. "What?"

Yixing puts on his best vacant look. "Joonmyun didn't nice us into getting better at Korean, that's for sure."

Baekhyun's mouth drops open. After a minute, Yixing brings his hand up and closes it for him. "Wow," Baekhyun says faintly, pressing a hand to his forehead. "I—wow. Really?" He screws his face up, like he isn't sure whether to be mad or amused or relieved."I can't believe you've been holding out on me like this. Aren't we friends?"

Yixing sighs. "It wasn't exactly—I mean we were just fooling around and learning was a nice side effect, so I didn't even think of it at first—"

Zitao punches Baekhyun in the arm. "Are we expected to report every instance of mutual masturbation to you, now?"

"Yes," Baekhyun says, with an obstinate toss of his head.

"Stop bitching, Baekhyun," Zitao says, patting Baekhyun's crotch absently. "You got your dick sucked. I expect you to return the favor at a later date."

"Why?" Baekhyun goads, eyebrows rising. "I thought you did this out of the kindness of your heart."

Zitao glances around the empty wing of the library. "I'm gonna post up fliers all around campus that say, Byun Baekhyun, sex-obsessed, sucking dick for charity—"

"Then you could have actual dick for lunch every day," Yixing offers, straight-faced, and smiles when Baekhyun dissolves into laughter.

thank you for reading anon ;; i meant it kind of as a prelude to the fanmix above. because it's his ~figurative~ heart on that paper

;;;;;;;;;; perf

since we're hsm meme

my dictionary otp ;;;;;;;;; this was so great i'll never get enough sex tutor fic

i'm irl screaming at the suho twist

sekai
idky but this kinda reminds me of a perfume add

(i'm interrupting but gj wcau anons o/)

and now back to the regular schedule of feeling totally unmotivated to write fic ._.;;;

this looks so intimate fuck them

m2 anon m2 u__u

unf nonnie

creme brulee kid is so qt

this was nice ;; sehun though T_T so sad

part two hundred and twelve

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