Ship/Member: Seungcheol/Jeonghan/Joshua Major Tags: N/A Additional Tags: implied sexual content, praise kink, cheol just wants to be called pretty, jihan evil twins Permission to remix: Yes
there was a silly little evil seed planted in my head ever since i saw this prompt and i physically couldn't stop myself. excuse moi. ***
Since he was young, Seungcheol has always been told that he’s pretty.
“You’re so pretty, Seungcheol-ah,” his aunties used to say, pinching his cheeks. “Look at these cute little dimples.”
“You’re so pretty, oppa,” his girlfriend in middle school used to tell him, kissing his cheek. “Look at your eyelashes. I wish mine were long like yours.”
“You’re so pretty, hyung” Jihoon huffed against him on one of the first days they were sitting together in the melona room, sounding as if he was annoyed by that fact. “Your face was made for this shit.”
“You’re so pretty,” everyone used to say, until he grew up, until he hit puberty and his body started to change, until he was shaped into a man, muscles filling his shirts and pants, his face sharpening, losing its baby fat.
Until he met Yoon Jeonghan, and then everyone started calling him pretty.
Seungcheol has eyes; he knows that Jeonghan is pretty, in the effortless way that only he can be.
In the way that his wide shoulders don’t look too masculine even when he’s wearing a suit, in the way his narrow waist seems made to be held by big hands - Seungcheol stares, as Joshua’s large palms wrap around the curve of Jeonghan’s hips, stares at the way Jeonghan tilts his head back to rest it against Joshua’s shoulder and laughs.
Maybe Jeonghan’s laugh is the only thing that isn’t pretty about him, but even then, his sweet voice makes up for it. Even the way he yells is pretty, or well, at least cute.
“Jeonghan hyung is so pretty,” Soonyoung used to marvel during their debut days, staring at long hair and a saccharine sweet smile. “He can really pull this off.”
And Soonyoung was right, Jeonghan could. His hair stayed long for a while longer, and all Seungcheol wanted was to run his fingers through it, pull it not so gently. He wanted Jeonghan to look at him, really look at him.
He wanted to be called pretty, as well. And he wanted the word to come out of Jeonghan’s mouth.
It wasn’t jealousy. It wasn’t jealousy, of that Seungcheol was sure.
Maybe envy; for the way Jeonghan could just sit there, staring off into space, and look ethereal and pretty, a vision of grace and beauty.
Joshua caught up on it faster than Seungcheol wished, when he still didn’t know as many words in Korean as he does now, when he still liked to pretend that he was gentle and sweet, and not the menace that he really is.
“Oh, Cheol-ah, you look good in that shirt,” Joshua used to say, and then, “You’re handsome,” “You’re cute,” “You’re the best, Cheol-ah. So charming.”
Searching for the right word, eyes always round, innocent, as if he wasn’t conducting a social experiment at the expense of Seungcheol’s pride. As if he didn’t gain joy in watching him blush and sputter at the compliments, always ducking his face to avoid the sharpness of his gaze.
In the end, it was Jeonghan who guessed the right word.
“So pretty, our Cheollie,” Jeonghan cooed one morning, hugging him from behind as he and Joshua sat together to have breakfast. Seungcheol froze in his embrace, holding his breath, and the spark in Joshua’s eyes became so bright that Seungcheol thought he would combust on the spot. “Isn’t he, Shuji?”
“So pretty,” Joshua agreed easily, smiling like a cat who got the mouse, and the cream, and whatever else cats like. “The prettiest.”
Jeonghan caught up on it fast, because his brain is just as pretty as the rest of him.
And well, it snowballed from there. Leave it to Joshua and Jeonghan to team up against him, cheeky as always. Leave it to them, to peal him apart and put him back together just by using their words, gentle compliments and a choruses of “oh, pretty, so pretty, all for us,” whispered between Seungcheol’s hair, between his parted legs, in his bed, in theirs, in toilets, wherever they could catch a small break.
“So pretty, our Cheollie,” Jeonghan says again, and again, and again.
“So pretty,” Joshua echoes back, as they kneel in front of him and stare up at the hem of the tight mini skirt they made him wear just for their own pleasure.
And well, who is Seungcheol to refute them?
How can he, when Jeonghan, the prettiest man on the planet, calls him pretty?
How can he, when Joshua’s big hands travel up the expanse of his thighs to peel his knee-high socks down, to tug at the zipper of the skirt, slow, deliberate.
Who is he, to refute their attention, when all he wants is to be called pretty?
[FILL]: call me pretty, please
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: implied sexual content, praise kink, cheol just wants to be called pretty, jihan evil twins
Permission to remix: Yes
there was a silly little evil seed planted in my head ever since i saw this prompt and i physically couldn't stop myself. excuse moi.
***
Since he was young, Seungcheol has always been told that he’s pretty.
“You’re so pretty, Seungcheol-ah,” his aunties used to say, pinching his cheeks. “Look at these cute little dimples.”
“You’re so pretty, oppa,” his girlfriend in middle school used to tell him, kissing his cheek. “Look at your eyelashes. I wish mine were long like yours.”
“You’re so pretty, hyung” Jihoon huffed against him on one of the first days they were sitting together in the melona room, sounding as if he was annoyed by that fact. “Your face was made for this shit.”
“You’re so pretty,” everyone used to say, until he grew up, until he hit puberty and his body started to change, until he was shaped into a man, muscles filling his shirts and pants, his face sharpening, losing its baby fat.
Until he met Yoon Jeonghan, and then everyone started calling him pretty.
Seungcheol has eyes; he knows that Jeonghan is pretty, in the effortless way that only he can be.
In the way that his wide shoulders don’t look too masculine even when he’s wearing a suit, in the way his narrow waist seems made to be held by big hands - Seungcheol stares, as Joshua’s large palms wrap around the curve of Jeonghan’s hips, stares at the way Jeonghan tilts his head back to rest it against Joshua’s shoulder and laughs.
Maybe Jeonghan’s laugh is the only thing that isn’t pretty about him, but even then, his sweet voice makes up for it. Even the way he yells is pretty, or well, at least cute.
“Jeonghan hyung is so pretty,” Soonyoung used to marvel during their debut days, staring at long hair and a saccharine sweet smile. “He can really pull this off.”
And Soonyoung was right, Jeonghan could. His hair stayed long for a while longer, and all Seungcheol wanted was to run his fingers through it, pull it not so gently. He wanted Jeonghan to look at him, really look at him.
He wanted to be called pretty, as well. And he wanted the word to come out of Jeonghan’s mouth.
It wasn’t jealousy. It wasn’t jealousy, of that Seungcheol was sure.
Maybe envy; for the way Jeonghan could just sit there, staring off into space, and look ethereal and pretty, a vision of grace and beauty.
Joshua caught up on it faster than Seungcheol wished, when he still didn’t know as many words in Korean as he does now, when he still liked to pretend that he was gentle and sweet, and not the menace that he really is.
“Oh, Cheol-ah, you look good in that shirt,” Joshua used to say, and then, “You’re handsome,” “You’re cute,” “You’re the best, Cheol-ah. So charming.”
Searching for the right word, eyes always round, innocent, as if he wasn’t conducting a social experiment at the expense of Seungcheol’s pride. As if he didn’t gain joy in watching him blush and sputter at the compliments, always ducking his face to avoid the sharpness of his gaze.
In the end, it was Jeonghan who guessed the right word.
“So pretty, our Cheollie,” Jeonghan cooed one morning, hugging him from behind as he and Joshua sat together to have breakfast. Seungcheol froze in his embrace, holding his breath, and the spark in Joshua’s eyes became so bright that Seungcheol thought he would combust on the spot. “Isn’t he, Shuji?”
“So pretty,” Joshua agreed easily, smiling like a cat who got the mouse, and the cream, and whatever else cats like. “The prettiest.”
Jeonghan caught up on it fast, because his brain is just as pretty as the rest of him.
And well, it snowballed from there. Leave it to Joshua and Jeonghan to team up against him, cheeky as always. Leave it to them, to peal him apart and put him back together just by using their words, gentle compliments and a choruses of “oh, pretty, so pretty, all for us,” whispered between Seungcheol’s hair, between his parted legs, in his bed, in theirs, in toilets, wherever they could catch a small break.
“So pretty, our Cheollie,” Jeonghan says again, and again, and again.
“So pretty,” Joshua echoes back, as they kneel in front of him and stare up at the hem of the tight mini skirt they made him wear just for their own pleasure.
And well, who is Seungcheol to refute them?
How can he, when Jeonghan, the prettiest man on the planet, calls him pretty?
How can he, when Joshua’s big hands travel up the expanse of his thighs to peel his knee-high socks down, to tug at the zipper of the skirt, slow, deliberate.
Who is he, to refute their attention, when all he wants is to be called pretty?