#📼 eyes on queue
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ppyopulii · 27 days ago
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@junplusone
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kitty jun (aka just jun) đŸ–€
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here2bbtstrash · 2 years ago
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I posted 3,085 times in 2022
That's 3,085 more posts than 2021!
1,413 posts created (46%)
1,672 posts reblogged (54%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@here2bbtstrash
@gimmethatagustd
@jung-koook
@yoongukie-ff
@sunshinerainbowsbts
I tagged 3,065 of my posts in 2022
Only 1% of my posts had no tags
#fic review - 750 posts
#mposting - 591 posts
#queue what you want ㄱ -ㅅ-ㄱ - 584 posts
#mbox 📼 - 447 posts
#anonymous - 438 posts
#ask game - 331 posts
#look down on me like that - 218 posts
#ldomlt spoilers - 153 posts
#freaky drabbles - 123 posts
#fic rec - 99 posts
Longest Tag: 129 characters
#i usually try and take a brain break between chapters of this but i got so excited i already started on dialogue for a ch 5 scene
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
Yoongi fingering u till u squirrttttttt
my god, anon. i don't know what to tell you. this was supposed to be a short lil drabble like the rest and then..... that that live yoongi happened and i. uh. my brain short-circuited. the thirst for this man overtook me. i think i just wrote the nastiest porn of my whole career lmao.
so anyway uhhhhhh - HOPE YOU ENJOY đŸ€Ș
pairing: yoongi x reader wordcount: 4.8k DO NOT FUCKING @ ME contains: my first ever OT7 scene :') ft. an incredibly dumb conversation abt squirting, best friend's friend to lovers (? idk what else to call it lmao), squirt god min yoongi (yes that's a warning), yoongi is in his that that live outfit bc i'm a menace to society, a lil bit of edging, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, and obv. a whoooole lot of tongue and finger fucking and SQUIRTING 💩💩💩
“Remember that girl I took home last night?”
You just know Taehyung is about to say something gross by the look in his eye, the way he bites down on the edge of his red solo cup as he glances around the circle of his friends.
Well, his friends and you. There’s a clear distinction.
A few heads nod, shoulders shrug. You brace yourself.
“Fucking geyser, I’m serious. Soaked my whole bed. I had to sleep on the couch.”
Hoseok’s loud cackle rings in your ears, and he has to cling to Jimin’s arm to stay upright, clearly already well past tipsy. “I was wondering why you were washing your sheets! That’s typically a once-a-year activity for you, Taehyung-ah!”
You make sure Seokjin doesn’t miss the death glare that you aim in his direction. He dragged you to this stupid party, said otherwise he’d spend the whole time in the corner reading webtoons on his phone. And now you have to tolerate the absolute fuckery of his nasty friends.
He grimaces a silent apology back at you, bringing one hand up to smack Tae firmly on the back of the head.
“She peed?!” Jungkook’s eyes are wide as he pauses with his own drink halfway to his mouth.
Everyone reacts at once: Hoseok quite literally doubles over, Taehyung fights to keep the corners of his mouth from turning up, Jimin gives an aggressive side-eye, Seokjin covers his face with his hand. Even Yoongi reacts, smiling a rare wide smile, shoulders shaking a little with laughter.
Namjoon takes the educational opportunity, clapping a hand firmly to Jungkook’s back. “Do you know what squirting is?”
You watch as Jungkook’s eyes flit across the circle. “I thought it was pee,” he admits, voice a little quieter this time.
“You are so fucking dumb,” Jimin says, shooting Jungkook a look of utter disgust. Hoseok is literally on the floor at this point.
“It’s, uh
” Namjoon makes a face as he searches for the right words. “Female ejaculate.”
“Girl cum?” Jungkook translates.
“I don’t care if it was piss, it was fucking hot,” Taehyung says as he downs the last of his drink.
“You’re disgusting,” Seokjin says with a shake of his head as he offers a hand to help Hoseok to his feet. Taehyung sticks his tongue out, waggling it side-to-side, which just sends Hoseok right back down again with another peal of laughter.
“I’ve never hooked up with a squirter,” Jungkook says softly, like he’s a little disappointed.
You open your mouth to speak up, as the only person with a vagina currently partaking in the conversation, but Yoongi beats you to it. “You just don’t know what you’re doing.”
His words surprise you for a second, but you shake it off and continue. “Not every girl can squirt. Most can’t.” You shrug slightly.
“That’s not true,” Yoongi counters, and you whip your head to look at him.
“What the fuck do you know, Min Yoongi?” The words leave your mouth before you can stop them. You don’t know why Seokjin thought it was a good idea to bring you around his friends, when he knows you have no filter.
Yoongi raises a hand, as if to signal that he’s not trying to fight. “I’m just saying. Once you learn what to do, anyone can get there. Just takes some patience. And a lot of foreplay. But I’ve never not made a girl squirt.”
You roll your eyes. “Well, I’ve never squirted.”
It takes a moment for you to realize what you’ve set yourself up for, and you have to fight the urge to clap a hand over your mouth. The same response ripples through the group a millisecond later: eyes widening, lips pursing in silent expressions of shock.
“I think I need another drink– should we all go?” Namjoon asks, extremely unsubtle.
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2,438 notes - Posted July 17, 2022
#4
compromise (explicit)
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genre: twilight AU, straight-up cracky-ass porn, do not look @ me
pairing: vampire!taehyung x human!reader x werewolf!jungkook
summary: you're torn between the two loves of your life - but maybe you don't have to choose.
word count: 10k 😬
contains: explicit sexual content~*~ no seriously like i wrote this with my dick it is EXCLUSIVELY twilight-flavored porn sdhfjdkgsdf - taehyung is a vampire, jungkook is a werewolf, reader is in love with both of them, they can't stand each other, yktfv !!!! this is actually an incredibly poorly negotiated threesome, so uh, don't do it like this kids!!!!! just enjoy the filth đŸ«Ą which specifically contains: a m/m/f threesome ft. mid-sex jealousy lol, biting, nipple play, clit stim and fingering, clit biting 💀, cunnilingus, spitting, neck.... licking?, a lot of body temperature descriptions bc we're sticking to steph's hot/cold lore bc i think it's funny idk, blowjobs/throat fucking, spit-roasting, first times, unprotected sex, some mildly improbable sex positions because they both have superhuman strength lmfao, a smidge of dirty talk/praise kink, ass play, anal sex, good ol' DP, annnnnd the grand finale: neck-biting and blood-drinking đŸ€­ also tae and jk throw "slurs" like 'leech' and 'dog' at each other the whole time sdfsdfjkf 💜
A/N: SURPRISE! AND HAPPY HALLOWEEN! I WILL NOT BE EXPLAINING MYSELF BUT UHHHH ENJOY SOME NONSENSE!!!!
thank you to @haliiimede for the incredible banner đŸ„ș
read on AO3!
~*~
You’ve been on edge all evening, watching, waiting.
As the sun slips below the horizon and reddens the sky on its departure, you try not to read it as an omen of what’s to come. Night pours out black like it always does, dark blanketing the lush green outside your bedroom window, but your stomach refuses to untwist.
Not even the touch of Taehyung’s hand can settle your nerves, despite how familiar it is, cold as ice, hard as marble. He’d climbed in your window at dusk, the way he’s done every night for months now, but tonight the air between you is heavy. Tonight you can barely look at him.
“Jagiya,” his hundred-year-old voice drips, sweet like honey, rich like blood in the quiet of your room. “What’s wrong?”
You haven’t even opened your mouth to answer when his head snaps up, clearly alerted by some sound your weak human ears have yet to pick up on.
Right on time, then.
“Tae,” you murmur softly, bringing one hand up to cup his cheek. Your thumb strokes lovingly over the flawless perfection of his face as your human eyes meet his: rich ochre, deep enough to drown in. He’s well-fed; you made sure that would be the case when you planned this. You need every possible element on your side tonight.
He cuts you off with a growl before you can say more than his name. “Why is that dog here?”
The word spat through his clenched teeth sends a fresh wave of anxiety spiraling through your bloodstream. “Please don’t call him that, Tae.” Your voice is barely more than a whisper. “He’s my best friend. I wanted the three of us to talk.”
You realize you can hear it now, coming up the road: the distant but unmistakable rattle of Jungkook’s motorcycle. It draws closer and closer, until it’s underscored by the crunch of gravel as he pulls into the driveway. When Jungkook finally kills the engine, the silence in your bedroom feels loud.
Taehyung doesn’t speak, but you can tell he’s furious, every muscle in his body pulled tight. His hands curl into fists, flexing restlessly at his sides, and even the well-defined line of his jaw jumps like he’s holding back the urge to tear something apart.
You do the only thing you can think of to calm your boyfriend: you take his face in your hands and pull him in for a deep kiss.
As your lips touch, it finally sinks in: how scared you are about tonight– you’re shaking like a leaf in Taehyung’s arms, even though you know he’d never hurt you. At least not purposefully.
The heat of your mouth seems to distract Taehyung a little, but there’s still fury in his kiss, in the soft growls that he can’t quite suppress as his tongue rolls over yours.
Your bedroom door creaks on its hinges, and you pull away from Taehyung just in time to see a bright smile drop off Jungkook’s face as he stands in the threshold. Your heart plummets into your stomach. Three seconds in and you’ve already ruined everything. How very human of you.
Moving an inch back from Taehyung, you unwind your arms from around his neck and try to regard both of them at once. This conversation suddenly feels much harder to navigate than you’d anticipated.
“Hi, Jungkook,” you say softly. Your best friend is practically glowering in the doorway now.
“I thought you wanted to talk. I don’t need to see him turn you. Or suck your soul out, or whatever.”
You try to stay calm, because someone has to. “It was just a kiss, Jungkook. I meant it, I do want to talk.” Your gaze flits from Jungkook to Taehyung. “To both of you.” As your eyes find Jungkook’s again, you pat the bedspread on your other side. “Will you come sit down?”
Taehyung makes a noise so otherworldly that chills rip up your spine, enough to make you shiver. “He’s fine where he is.”
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2,451 notes - Posted October 30, 2022
#3
the spins (explicit)
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genre: smutttyyyyyy as hell (with like one angsty conversation about isolation as a trauma response, but said in much vaguer terms lol)
pairing: jungkook x reader
summary: you discover a new side to your former lab partner, frat wonder boy jeon jungkook, when you confess to him the one thing no man has ever been able to make you do.
word count: 10.3k
contains: explicit sexual content AKA porn!!!!! alcohol, minor frat house shenanigans, reader is a total bitch but in a highkey relatable way, jungkook is The Only Good Frat Boy, mentions of shitty hookups/sexual dissatisfaction/faked orgasms, an **absurdly** lengthy and gratuitous cunnilingus scene, a lil bit of teasing/begging, spitting, LOUD sex, reader’s first partnered orgasms, also JK has a tongue piercing 👀
A/N: so writing this nearly killed me,,, lmao. i have two inspiration sources that i must credit- one is jai’s @gimmethatagustd INCREDIBLE fic paint me naked, which gave me the final shove i needed to topple over into JK hard stan land (listen he’s 3 years younger than me, i had a complex about it, it’s fine). seriously go give it a read and give her some love, i fully credit her with moving college!JK into my brain where he now lives rent-free.
the other source of inspiration is this insaaaaane imagine audio (WARNING, extremely NSFW and will literally ruin your life!!!!!) that hooked me on the idea that JK would be competitive about eating pussy and
.. yep, smack those two things together and ta-da, this porn was born. godspeed and thanks as always for reading 💜
this is now (finally) on AO3!
~*~
You really don’t know why you came to this party. It’s so crowded, bodies pressed together, people screaming to be heard over the noise, or just because they’re white girl wasted. The music is terrible, the floor weirdly sticky, the container of jungle juice in the kitchen extremely suspicious. You opted for tequila instead, the last of which you now drain from the bottom of your red solo cup. The whole place smells like cheap beer, vape smoke, and frat boy cologne.
Yet another Jack Harlow song comes on over the bass-boosted speakers and you roll your eyes. That’s it. Time to go home and actually finish the psych paper you’re putting off.
You shove your way into the kitchen, trying to be the only upstanding citizen in this godforsaken frat house and actually put your trash in a trash can. You spot one in the corner– nearly overflowing, but still good enough, except that a whole circle of Brads and Chads block your path. You do your best to squeeze past them, but because they don’t do anything except live at the gym and snort protein powder, they might as well be a brick wall.
“Excuse me,” you try. Nothing.
“I need to get through,” you say with a gentle push. It’s like talking to a brick wall, too.
“Alright, fuck it.” You roll your eyes and decide to just fucking go for it. You’ve had enough liquor that you won’t feel the pain until tomorrow anyway.
The circle breaks apart in confusion, not a brain cell in sight, as you slam your way through. They part so quickly that your plan works too well, and the excess momentum shoots you forward. You stumble, losing your footing, already cringing because you’re about to faceplant on the nasty floor of this nasty frat house kitchen.
“Hey, whoa!” A voice way too close to your ear for comfort shouts, but then an arm snakes around your waist and saves you from your doom, gripping you tightly. “Careful!”
You glance up, wondering if this guy is going to try to turn the moment into some attempt at flirtation, the world’s worst meet cute, but then you see big round eyes staring back at you with legitimate concern. Oh, fuck. You know those Disney princess eyes. Your stomach drops.
“Whaaaaaaaat!” Holding you in one arm, an unopened 18-rack of beer hoisted up on his shoulder with the other, grinning like a kid in a candy store, is none other than frat wonder boy Jeon Jungkook.
Ah, shit. You knew he was in a frat, of course. He doesn’t shut up about it. But you didn’t know it was this one– well, actually, you don’t even know which frat house you’re in right now. Alpha Beta Omega? They’re all the same to you. You don’t really understand why they have factions anyway instead of all just living together, but that would probably be too gay.
“I didn’t know you partied!” Jungkook is still smiling a smile that takes up his whole face, clearly unable to believe that you’re standing here in his disgusting frat house kitchen in your leather jacket and your combat boots.
You huff a laugh as he slowly unloops his arm from around you, assessing to see if you’re stable enough to stay upright. You shoot him a look as if to say I’m fine, dumbass. Uncoordinated, not intoxicated. There’s a difference.
“I do not party,” you correct him. “Never once in my life have I partied. I merely come to the parties, stand on the edges and observe, get my free alcohol, and then depart. Like I’m doing right now.” You aim your solo cup at the trash can and miss by about a foot.
“You– hang on,” he pauses, turning back to offload the fresh case of beer onto the kitchen counter. There’s a clamor of excitement from the Brads and Chads as they crowd around to slap him on the back, shouting things like “okay, JK!” and “let’s fucking gooooo!”
You have to get out of here, you think to yourself, and then you watch Jungkook bring his tattooed hand up to rip the cardboard front of the case off effortlessly, and that is lowkey kind of hot.
Quiet, you tell your tequila brain. No lusting after frat boys. Not even the one you sat next to for an entire semester in bio lab, the one who was actually way smarter than anticipated and didn’t just use you for an easy A, who genuinely seemed like he cared about the way you answered “How was your weekend?” every time he asked, and who didn’t even say one problematic thing the whole semester.
Just because he’s the exemplary form of his species doesn’t make him not what he is, you remind yourself. Even the best frat boy is still a frat boy.
Jungkook returns as the rest of the bros swarm the counter and proceed to decimate the case of beer. That must have been the reason they were waiting here, at their proverbial watering hole, because they circle up and dissolve back into the party, several of them clapping Jungkook on the back again in thanks as they leave.
You realize he doesn’t have to yell to be heard anymore as he says, “You’re leaving already?”
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2,900 notes - Posted May 20, 2022
#2
the shape of your body (explicit)
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genre: fluffy slowburn smut
pairing: jimin x reader
summary: the same day you finally manage to speak to your months-long public transit crush, you end up seeing much more of him than you bargained for.
word count: 24k đŸ™‡â€â™€ïž
contains: explicit sexual content~*~ (after a slow burn lmao) - new york city grad school AU, strangers to lovers, reader is an art student, public transit thirsting, jimin is a dancer and a nude model, namgi and vhope as side characters, basically everyone is gay (they're ART STUDENTS in NEW YORK CITY it's called realism 💅), a smidge of member x member side character relationships, jimin is biromantic demisexual 👀, conversations about body image issues/past relationship struggles/demisexuality and libido, soooo much making out, a couple "failed attempts" at sex, accidental voyeurism (but not how you think lmao YOU'LL SEE), showering together non-sexually, and: fingering, clit stim, nipple play, come eating/sharing đŸ€­ an attempted blowjob, face sitting, & protected sex (multiple rounds đŸ„”)
A/N: asjdshgkdfjgs i can't believe it's done 😭 there were so many times i thought i would never finish this fic !!! i have too many friends to thank for talking me off of SEVERAL ledges where i was convinced this whole thing was trash and that i should just stick to short porn or perhaps simply never write again. i'm so glad i saw this one through because there are concepts in here that are deeply important and personal to me wehhh đŸ«  i sincerely hope y'all enjoy this one!! thank u for enduring mostly radio silence while i was in jimin lockdown, and of course, happy early birthday to mini, the light of my mf life đŸ„°đŸ’œ (oh and LDOMLT ch 8 is coming next so buckle tf up bitches 👀)
an eternity of smooches to @haliiimede for beta reading and just generally being the best fucking person on planet earth ✹ AND TO @goodsoop FOR THE DEMI SENSITIVITY READ VERY SORRY THAT I AM THE WORLD'S LARGEST IDIOT AND FORGOT TO CREDIT..... i love you both đŸ„ș
read on AO3!
~*~
You’ve taken the subway thousands of times since moving to New York.
Morning rides, squeezed nearly to death between commuters in suits blinking back sleep and school-uniformed kids scream-laughing and paper coffee cups gripped tight by winter-numb fingers.
Long trips with your sketchbook on your lap, riding the line all the way to Pelham Bay Park and back, to surface above ground out where there’s a little more space to breathe, until the setting sun floods orange glow between the buildings just before you descend again.
Late nights coming home, Namjoon’s head thudding back against the train window behind him as he dozes off, one arm thrown around your shoulder to ward off any drunk creeps, his free hand interlaced with Yoongi’s on his other side.
It’s always been the three of you, first in friendship, and now that the two of them have figured out they’re something more, you don’t mind it. But when it’s late and you’ve had enough drinks to feel warm all the way through, to melt something open inside of you, and you glance over to see a loving flicker of eyelashes exchanged as Namjoon leans down and presses a kiss to Yoongi’s temple, you can’t help it.
There’s a little bit of an ache there, right behind your ribs. Sometimes.
But mostly, when it comes to the train, you take the 6 to school. You go through the motions this morning the same as you always do: headphones around your neck, bag slung over your shoulder, immediately dropping into the first empty seat you see as the train doors shudder closed and the car starts to move. Six stops down, 51st street to Astor Place, five days a week, you know it like a heartbeat.
You just wish you knew him, too.
Subway Boy, as Yoongi affectionately labeled him the time you got two pitchers of margaritas deep and made the mistake of confessing to your roommates about your crush— if it can even be called that. Can you truly have a crush on someone you know nothing about, not even their name?
Well, you know a few things.
He must live further north than you, because on the days you see him, he’s already on the train when you board at 51st.
He must like music, because he always has a set of fancy bluetooth earbuds in.
You’re pretty sure he’s an athlete of some sort, because he’s usually carrying a gym bag—and because during this summer’s heat wave, the one and only time you’ve seen him wear shorts, you nearly fainted at the thick, defined muscles of his thighs.
He has an affinity for jewelry, delicate silver always glinting through the multiple piercings in his ears. At odds with this, he seems to prefer to dress comfortably, and you’ve seen him in enough branded school t-shirts and sweats to figure he must also be an NYU student, though you can’t say for sure if he’s undergrad or graduate.
You deeply hope you’re not crushing on someone who still needs a fake ID to drink, but there’s no way to be certain.
Most importantly, you know that he is absolutely stunning. Elegantly handsome, with expressive deep brown eyes, skin like glass, and round cheeks and full lips that flush frozen pink on particularly frigid New York days. His hair has changed colors a few times over the months that have passed since you first took notice of him, but it’s currently a honey blonde, and long enough that he often reaches up to card a hand through it. He does it now, pushing loose strands back to expose his forehead as he frowns down at his phone.
On days where you share the same car, you notice very little else that happens on the ride, thoroughly entranced in Subway Boy’s beauty and his mystery. The train could probably catch fire and you’d miss it entirely.
Today happens to be one of those days, and excitement glitters in your bloodstream as you realize he’s seated across from you. The rush of seeing him always feels like its own reward, some kind of cosmic sign that the day is going to be a good one.
And then the train stops moving.
There’s an audible reaction from a few people in the car, and you glance up a moment later when a voice buzzes over the intercom. You’re able to make out “attention passengers” and very little after that, just the basics about some sort of unforeseen interruption of service and that the train should resume moving again soon.
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3,604 notes - Posted October 9, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
party on you (explicit)
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genre: SMUT SMUT SMUT with an extremely small side of fluff lol
pairing: hoseok x reader
summary: the only thing stronger than your social anxiety is your big dumb crush on hoseok - and you're certainly not expecting it when he tells you the real reason he threw this album release party.
word count: 9.8k
contains: explicit sexual content aka PORN !!!! idol-verse, literally takes place at the JITB album release party, friends to lovers, erotic hand holding, they're both cute and dumb, a studio hookup 👀 dirty talk, thigh riding, cunnilingus, a single pussy slap lol, taint touching (?), HOBI EATS ASS, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, throat fucking, reader gets a facial, and a lil bit of cum eating, it's cute 😌
A/N: so, hi, i went to hobipalooza lmao. this is actually lowkey a songfic ??? charli xcx was one of the earlier acts on hobi's stage and. my god. seeing her live was a religious experience, and when she performed party 4 u i was like hnnnhghg this should be a fic. and now it is !!!! and i hope u enjoy đŸ„șđŸ„ș i tried some new stuff in here, both soft and freaky lmao so i'm nervy to share!!! as always your support and feedback means the world to meeeee ok ilysomuch bye~
read on AO3 !
~*~
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4,457 notes - Posted August 5, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
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ppyopulii · 2 months ago
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áŻ“âœ©â™Ź PPYOPULII, also known as JAY and formerly known as IMUJINGS, is a 19 y/o Filipino-American producer, composer, and singer-songwriter (pronouns unspecified). Signing a label in 2025 with the famous company CARATBLR, JAY cherishes and takes inspiration from hit K-POP boy group SEVENTEEN, promising the world with writings that come from deep within their soul and heart.
ARTIST DISCOGRAPHYㆍNEWEST RELEASEㆍ GUIDELINES
‷ Interested in receiving notifications when new music drops? Send in an ask! ⓘ Explicit songs ahead that are not suitable for all listeners.
💿 RECORD LABELS. @svthub
♫ follows from @starlyrai Ꚅ fic recs from @mujingsi i hope you enjoy your stay, and may good music find you!
đŸ·ïž TAGS!
#🐈‍⬛ ppyopulii's spotify — about & masterlist! #đŸŽ¶ ppyopulii’s discography — all my works! #📼 eyes on queue — queued posts! #📍 discover weekly radar — fic recommendations! #đŸŽ” friends’ listening activity — moots! #đŸŽ€ from the recording studio — rambles! #🎬 ask the artist — answered asks! #💎 lyric inspiration — all things seventeen! #🍚 ppyopuli’s creator — all things woozi! #đŸ—’ïž notes in the margins — replies to tags/comments!
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ppyopulii · 17 days ago
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@wheeboo @junplusone
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𝐭𝐡𝐞 đœđšđ­đžđ đšđ«đČ 𝐱𝐬 đ©đąđœđ­đźđ«đžđŹ 𝐹𝐟 𝐛𝐹𝐹 đŹđžđźđ§đ đ€đ°đšđ§ 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 đŠđšđ€đž 𝐩𝐞 đšđŻđźđ„đšđ­đž
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ppyopulii · 12 days ago
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typical of me 😭 mingyu
i’m sorry
(ty for the tag @wooahoe & @junplusone <3). if u see this u are tagged!!
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ppyopulii · 29 days ago
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sorry ryn. Love making ppl crash out
cheol crying is tattooed into my brain (derogatory) i need to give that man a hug. He is my older brother fr
send-off ⏳ (demo ver.)
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PREVIEW. “I have no words for them other than ‘take care.’ I have nothing to say that will comfort worries should they have any.”
FEATURING. choi seungcheol x reader GENRE(S). established relationship, hurt/comfort LENGTH | WC. <10min | 1k words EXPLICITS. one (1) curse word, descriptions of kissing
JAY’S MUSINGS. this
 was supposed to be a 200 word drabble. my heart goes out to @etherealyoungk and @junplusone. thank u for watching me crash out about caratland. and of course, lots of love goes out to csc today and tomorrow and forevermore. u will always be their #1 role model, cheollie.
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE. unlovable by glowie. honesty by pink sweat$. lover by taylor swift. soldier, poet, king by the oh hellos. tahanan by adie. love. by wave to earth.
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“What’s in your heart?”
There’s a heaviness piling on Seungcheol’s character, one that knots his shoulder blades together and wears on the crease in between his eyebrows. Your whisper of a question to him has a breath stuttering out of his throat in response.
His grip on his phone loosens, and a quick glance at the screen confirms your worries. It’s a viral edit of various CARATLAND adventures; Wonwoo’s bright smile molds into Jeonghan’s smirk and makes your heart sink. You can only guess that the next member to appear is Soonyoung, and you’re proven right when the video automatically replays to showcase the energetic dancer.
You sigh.
“Cheol,” you press a kiss to his shoulder, taking note of the tense muscle and reminding yourself to make him a cup of his favorite tea in a bit. “Let’s go to bed, yeah? You’ve had a long day.”
He doesn’t answer you right away. Instead, your husband lets his phone clatter to the coffee table’s mahogany wood, running a hand through his hair. It’s kept a little longer than usual, freshly dyed with red streakings, something you suggested to him when he was looking for new inspiration on how to style it.
You’re about to call out to him again when Seungcheol squeezes his eyes shut.
“What kind of leader am I?”
His voice is quiet in volume, but the question echoes throughout your dimly lit living room, bouncing off the walls of framed photos and hanging plants.
“I–” Seungcheol starts, before running another hand through his hair, “I’m supposed to be the strong one. The one that they look up to in hard times. What kind of model do I serve as when I can’t be there for them through something as big as enlistment?”
“I have to sit back and watch them enlist, one by one, and all I can do is wish them well. Jeonghan-ah and Wonwoo–” his voice breaks on the last syllable of Wonwoo’s name, “They’re not on active duty. But what about Jihoon-ah? Or Hoshi? I have no words for them other than ‘take care.’ I have nothing to say that will comfort worries should they have any.”
He ends with burying his face in his worn, calloused hands. They’re rough to the touch, you know firsthand—but you take in the way Seungcheol’s right pinky is laced with a silver ring and a gold band is wrapped snugly around his left ring finger, eyes drawn to the polished metals with awe. The reason they fit so perfectly with nothing more than a speck of rust is his continuous, present care—damned be the experience his hands have been through.
“Seungcheol,” you murmur, resting your chin on his shoulder before snaking your arms around his hefty torso. “Seungcheol. Your presence is enough. It will always be enough.”
“How good can my presence be if I don’t even—”
“They are not asking you to live their life for them through an unknown chapter,” you cut him off sharply. “They are not asking you to teach them the ways of the world. They are asking you to be there. To stand with them and listen to them and be present.”
Seungcheol, oh, your Seungcheol—he’s crying, pulling his crewneck up to hide his red-rimmed eyes and turning into your body to shield himself from the world. You draw soothing, long circles across his back as he weeps, taking deep breaths to keep your own tears at bay.
“I know you burden yourself with the task of being their leader,” your voice is softer now, dulled with your love for him. “You have for the past decade now. But this? They are not asking you to lead them. They are asking you to simply be their friend.”
“And you are,” you gently push his sweater down and bring his face to yours, hands wiping away his salty tears. “And you will be. I know you will.”
He hiccups before leaning into you, rubbing his face along your fingers that so eagerly hold him. You pay no mind to the snot and saltwater; how could you, when you’re currently holding your whole universe in your hands?
His eyes are closed, eyelashes curling with every breath, and you softly press your lips to his right eyelid. Seungcheol barely stirs. You continue, kissing his left eyelid, then his temple, before murmuring sweet words of comfort to each of his blushing cheeks.
“You’ve done well, Cheollie.” Your lover is now gripping your face with those lovely toughened hands of his own, lips quivering while he kisses you with all the strength he has left in him. “There is no more to be asked of you from anyone. You have proven yourself, a thousand times over.”
“Thank you,” he sobs against your mouth; you welcome another open-mouthed kiss, his teeth clinking against yours. “Thank you. I love you. What did I do to deserve you? To deserve them?”
You giggle, the sound reverberating through your living room and whisking away all of his shadowing thoughts. He quietly laughs along with you, a chuckle that warms you to the bone, and you know your Seungcheol is back.
He clasps his hands over yours and smiles at you; you can feel the heat radiating off his fingers that meets the cool metal band of your own wedding ring, and Seungcheol thumbs over it like a promise. His eyes are shining despite his tears.
“Nothing, silly,” you finally answer. “You did nothing but be yourself. And isn’t that enough?”
Choi Seungcheol kisses you like it’s the last breath he’ll ever take.
“And isn’t that enough,” he echoes.
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210 notes · View notes
ppyopulii · 1 month ago
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thank you my beloved ryn u are so sweet đŸ˜­đŸ€ semantics are so fun to play around with!! also i can’t believe i witnessed u crash out in real time LOL
(and yes we are all married here in caratblr bc we support polygamy)
📋 the study of prosody.
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PREVIEW. pros·​o·​dy. noun. the patterns of stress and intonation in a language. an example of its use would be the study of the following phrases: i.) if you want me, ii.) if you want me, iii.) if you want me.
FEATURING. stargazer!yoon jeonghan x linguist!reader GENRE(S). yearning, fluff, friends to lovers, suggestive (minors beware.) LENGTH | WC. <20min | 3.4k words EXPLICITS. cursing, one (1) mention of a spider, r ends up on yjh’s lap, car makeout session, light marking, grinding, yjh calls r sweetheart, lowk sub!r & sub!yjh (they are so effing down bad for one another)
JAY’S MUSINGS. been in the Craziest jeonghan brainrot for So long. someone help. for my beloved ashi, @junplusone, as we will now unfortunately promptly disappear again as stem major curriculums pick up once more. i offer u my love thru begging jeonghan. tysm for beta-reading. (p.s. slightly inspired by @mochacoda's night d(r)ive!! there is so much love written into her words it consumes me whole. pls go take a look <3)
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE. if you want me, you better speak up by ljh. understand by keshi. striptease by carwash. touch tank by quinnie. better half by jeonghan (ft. omoinotake).
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i.) if you want me,
“Bog time?”
Jeonghan looks up from the GPS on his phone, an eyebrow quirked up at your out of the blue words. He has the address of a random park punched into the navigation, finger hovering over the Start Route button, but he easily swipes out of the tab as if it was a mere thought in the back of his mind.
“And what might you mean by,” he lazily curls two fingers in the air in quotation marks, “Bog time?”
To his question, you simply offer your phone to him. There’s a curve to his smile as he takes the device and stares at the screen; it’s directions to a wetland park about nine minutes out from your location, in some suburban neighborhood. Pictures show a few benches around the small pond and a trail leading behind to the forest.
You beam at him, eyes sparkling in the sun’s last rays of the day, like a pet showing its owner a present they brought back from the outside. “A bog! Have you ever been to one?”
Jeonghan hands you back your phone, fingers sliding against yours, and looks to the sky thoughtfully. He rests his hand on the steering wheel of his sleek black Toyota Camry, the leather glinting with shine, tapping his finger to a beat you wished you knew.
“Not until tonight, I haven’t,” is his smooth answer; and before you know it, he’s pulling the shift into drive and pressing hard on the gas.
Loving Yoon Jeonghan is easy.
It’s more of an afterthought for you at this point. You grab the last bag of his favorite chips at the convenience store? He’s planning his move to steal it as if you weren’t going to surrender it to him without a fight, but you play along anyway to indulge him. There’s a spider in the kitchen? He’s cheering you on for moral support as you grab a cup and some paper to trap it, but it takes one tremble of your hands for him to click his tongue, say you’re too slow, and get the job done for you.
His quick-witted, ever playful banter keeps you on your toes. You thrive in the presence of him like a sponge soaking up as much water as it can—except, unfortunately for you, you’re constantly on the verge of having it all flood out and drowning in it.
Because while loving Yoon Jeonghan is easy, wanting him is a whole different story.
Loving doesn’t result in an ache in your heart every time he talks about his latest date with someone. Loving doesn’t cause the burning pit in your stomach that surfaces when he leans over, just right, to whisper something only meant for your ears.
Love, to you, is the noun you hold for Jeonghan, stored in your hands when you light-heartedly swat him away with a tsk—and want is the verb that jumps out of you when he effortlessly catches your wrist in his hand, honey eyes gleaming in your lamp’s light.
“Yah, we’re here.”
His teasing tone snaps you out of your thoughts, and you blink in surprise. There’s no parking lot; his car is stalled on the side of the road, the headlights flickering for a moment before turning off.
“Where’s the bog?” you tilt your head in different directions, trying to get an unsuccessful glimpse of your surroundings.
Jeonghan snorts and pushes a lock of blonde hair behind his ear. “You tell me, dude. Can’t see shit out here.”
“Language,” you scold, before unlocking your side of the car and stepping out onto the sidewalk.
The neighborhood is quiet save for the occasional hoot of an owl and the wind’s loud escapades through the trees. You shiver and tuck yourself into the knitted sweater you had chosen for tonight, the wind picking up ever so slightly as if to mock your choice of clothing. Jeonghan is on your side before you can even think of yanking him out of the car, much to your dismay. He shuts your door and shines the flashlight of his phone onto the dewy lawn grass.
“What even is a bog?” Jeonghan queries as the two of you begin to walk in a seemingly random direction. “Just a wetland?”
“Basically, yeah. The thing we’re going too isn’t really a bog. More of a pond with some swamp aspects. I just think bog’s a funny word.”
Your shoes scrape against the cement. From Jeonghan’s light, you can see up ahead that just across the road is the sign from your Google Search, signifying your destination is close. Your eyes trace the trail winding behind it into the forest.
“Explain it to me.”
Startled, you glance back. Jeonghan’s face is faintly illuminated from the light bouncing off of you. If you were to focus well enough, you would be able to outline the slope of his cheekbone and the way some strands of his hair brushed against it ever so softly.
“The word bog? Are you serious? It’s really nothing,” you try to argue, turning back around.
“Come on. Try me.”
You heave a sigh. “Alright. If you want me to.”
“Yah. ‘Course I want you to.”
The air feels a little thicker now, but you swallow the feeling back and press forward as the grass gets taller. You wish it was warmer; maybe, if you were lucky, you’d be able to hear the night calls of a toad, or see fireflies milling about the shoreline.
“Gaelic origin, mostly. Just an adjective that describes something that’s soft and damp. There’s also some roots back to Ireland—they had a word that describes moist ground.”
While you’re explaining, Jeonghan carefully takes the lead, shining his flashlight onto the wooden sign marking the entrance to the trail and oncoming wetland. He hums in response.
“Nerd.”
You smack his shoulder blade.
“Ow—fuck, okay, I’m sorry!”
He’s laughing, and like the death of a star your anger explodes into oblivion, rolling your eyes good-naturedly as you shove him with your elbow. “You were the one who asked.”
“Ah, I suppose you’re right.” You glance at Jeonghan from within your peripherals while he speaks. There’s a flicker of surprise as you take note of his small smile that curls with an emotion you can’t quite read.
“Can’t help it, y’know,” he muses aloud. “To want is a cruel thing.”
ii.) if you want me,
Your breath evens as the concrete path gradually gives way to wooden boardwalk. The two of you walk quietly side by side, the water’s surface still and reflecting the moon’s light from above. Jeonghan had mentioned earlier that it was a waxing gibbous, and that a super moon would be occurring in a few nights’ time.
Moments were always stolen with Jeonghan—not because you two didn’t have the time for each other, but more so because you two seemed to have all the time in the world to spend in each other’s presence. Inseparable like the twin stars marked by the constellation dubbed Gemini, you grew so used to his existence that it took outrageously spontaneous adventures like this one to really cherish him.
Or, in this particular case, curse him and his ever observant nature.
“You want me to do what?”
“Just come here,” he urges, opening his arms a little wider.
Your hesitance is palpable, but ultimately, you relent, wiggling your way into his warm embrace. His hoodie is worn with seasons of journeys that you’ve accompanied him on, and it’s always been a comfort you’ve relied on for warmth.
Just
 never with him alongside it.
“There you go,” Jeonghan’s lips skim the crown of your hairline and you shudder, the motion backfiring on you when he only presses you closer to him. “Y’know, you usually know better than to wear the thinnest knitted sweater known to man on a night like this.”
“You could’ve just given me your hoodie, you know.”
He shrugs. “Didn’t want to do that. Then I’d be freezing. This is a win-win.”
“You’re insufferable,” you say, and bury yourself further against the fabric.
The self-proclaimed bog is forgotten as the two of you find more interesting things to take notice of. Once more, a comfortable quiet overtakes you two, with your eyes following the sway of a tree’s branches and Jeonghan focused on the sky above. A moment to journal about later, maybe, with a fern taken and pressed to be studied after it dried. Perhaps tonight you’d snag the formidable prickles of the pine tree nearby. You’d always be interested in how words took shape after nature, the conifer’s history included.
As if on cue, Jeonghan’s voice is pulling you out of your thoughts in asking about the tree before you two. You respond in turn about the specifics of the pine.
“Doesn’t that have another meaning? Pine?”
“Mhm,” you hum noncommittally. “The tree existed first, then the verb pine came about later; means to long for or seek after, similar to yearning. They both actually stem from two different Latin words—pine tree from pinus and pining from poena. Cool how they ended up as the same word though, huh?”
Jeonghan is surprisingly still for a while. Leaves rustle nearby, being stirred by the wind, and you bite your lip.
Even though he’s heard you ramble about nonsense background contexts of words a thousand times over, the silence scares you. Sometimes you still fear Jeonghan will be bored by your constant, monotone voice, as if he was only listening to reply rather than understand.
“Hey, look up. D’you see those three stars up there?”
You glance above the tree you’re studying and nod against the fabric of his hoodie. The three stars in question are a straight shot line, banded together diagonally like a belt. Above those, another group of stars come together to form the torso of a man, one arm held out to hold something akin to a bow.
“Orion and his belt,” you confirm. “You’ve told me his story before—the hunter who boasted about killing all animals, right? I remember arguing about the right myth to follow.”
“Yeah, well, there’s more to it,” Jeonghan chuckles and wraps his arms a smidge tighter around you. You try to ignore the electricity shooting through your veins, piercing your heart like a lightning strike.
He lowers his face so that his mouth is close, so close, right by your ear. Freeing one of his hands from your embrace, he tilts your chin up with his fingers ever so slightly, pointing at a faint cluster of stars somewhere above and to the right. You squint your eyes to focus better as Jeonghan softly begins his story.
“The Pleiades were seven sisters who were sought after by Orion. Their father was Atlas, the Titan condemned to holding up the sky, and once barred to his eternal punishment, Orion took this chance to begin his pursuit. He was persistent in his chase for the sisters, wanting to win any of their favors through any means possible. Zeus eventually had enough of Orion’s attempts and turned the Pleiades into doves to free them; however, they asked to be placed in the sky to be closer to their father. That’s how the constellation we know of now came to be formed. Unfortunately for them, Orion took to the skies soon after and continues to chase them to this day.”
It’s your turn to fall speechless. Something about the tale makes your bottom lip jut out in a solemn expression; eternal punishment of any form, be it to hold up the sky for forever or to be chased unwillingly by a hunter in various forms, makes your heart ache. You stubbornly hope there is an end to your own suffering, fingers shaking as Jeonghan pulls his hand away from cupping your face.
“Don’t worry, though,” he whispers; his tone is so gentle it has you leaning into him subconsciously. “The Pleiades are safe. All Orion can do is long for, or pine after them, as you so dutifully defined for me earlier.”
“I’m glad.” Your voice, low and full of emotion, is almost lost to the wind as it begins to surge. “Sometimes feelings just can’t be returned, no matter how much we desire them to be. I would want them to be happy.”
You stare woefully at the sisters. Jeonghan’s gaze remains fixated on you.
“Me too.”
iii.) if you want me.
As you stare up at Orion and the Pleiades, your gaze rests on the silhouette of the tree before the two of you. The branches sway in the wind, catching the breeze, and you trail the outline of the tree across the sky. From just the right angle, Orion seems to lean against the pine, his weight being supported by the sturdy evergreen like it had grown specifically for him to rest upon. The thought makes you smile.
“Isn’t it crazy?” comes your muffled murmur from against the material of his hoodie; Jeonghan makes a noise for you to continue.
“Just.. how perfectly nature fits within itself sometimes, like one big recurring metaphor. As if the mother of the universe finds her favorite verses in the stars and rewrites them over and over because she can’t get enough of them.”
The wind begins to die down; there’s no need for you to be bundled up within Jeonghan’s arms, but you stay, waiting with bated breath for his response.
“How so?”
Perhaps it’s the late hour that boldens you with no room for overthinking, your phones tucked neatly away in your pockets as to not distract you. Your heart is throwing itself against your ribcage as you muster up a confession.
“There’s so many tales like Orion and the Pleiades, as sad as it is. But there are just as many triumphs as there are tragedies, all recreated over and over. The universe—she’s trying to tell us something. She’s telling us to find love in each other, and therefore, in ourselves.”
You swallow back any possible regret and finish, “Personally, I think I’ve received the message pretty well through you.”
There’s a sharp intake of air. You feel Jeonghan exhale a breath, tingling your skin, and his lips are so close they kiss the shell of your ear as they move.
“I agree. I guess we are yet another recreation of her favorite tale of love, then.”
Something shifts in you; an unspoken agreement that has your head reeling when he doesn’t let you slip away from him on the way back to the car. Your fingers are grasped lightly in his, and soft giggles tumble out of you when he fumbles to open the door of your side. They fall silent as he slides in, adjusting the chair back and looking up at you expectantly. His hand is out for you to take.
“Well?” is all he says, and the single word’s implication hits you like a freight truck.
Aren’t you going to be with me?
The wind howls, delighted and amped up from the excitement swirling within you. Your hair whips around your face protectively, tears beginning to stain the apples of your cheeks. There is nothing in your mind except for the way Jeonghan’s wisps of blonde hair fall away from their place behind his ears. You ache to fix them.
“Are you sure?” is all you can croak out.
His eyes shine in the moonlight, and with no hesitation he replies, “Yes, if you want me.”
Your weight rests on his lap in a painfully easy manner. The car door clicks shut and is swiftly locked, and before you know it, Jeonghan’s hands are settled around your waist.
“Hi.” You squeak ever so eloquently.
Jeonghan has his face mere inches away from you. His nose tickles yours in a sheepish laugh. “Hi to you, too.”
“Did you mean it?” you blurt out with trembling fingers, daring to clutch onto the hem of his sweater as if he’ll blow away with no warning. “Are you serious about this?”
“I haven’t even said anything yet,” he teases. “Are you saying I’ve been implying something tonight?”
“I want to say so. I want to believe that you have been.”
The way your name falls off his tongue is pure silk, and you swear he’s reinvented a new meaning to it just now. Who knew that meanings could be born from different intonations?
“Please,” Jeonghan breathes your name again; it’s a borderline whine that rushes the air out of your lungs. “Just let me want you. I’ve been denied it for so long.”
The kiss that follows is searing, burning with the desire you’ve wrestled with shoving back into your throat until now. You aren’t entirely sure who’s lips pressed to who’s first, but what you are sure of is the moan that slips from Jeonghan’s mouth, his breathing harsh and ragged.
“Fuck,” he mutters, and you have half the mind to tell him to mind his language again when he interrupts you by squeezing your waist. “You’re so goddamn hot.”
Laughter bubbles out of you. Jeonghan glances up at you in surprise, his eyelashes fluttering with confusion. You giggle and cup his cheek.
“Weren’t you just versing poetry to me thirty seconds ago? What happened to that?”
He just shrugs and leans forward to press a feverish kiss to your lips. “The duality of man.”
“The duality of man, indeed,” you murmur.
Your fingernails scrape along his neck enticingly, tangling in the tufts of his blonde hair. You give an experimental tug and revel in the gasp he lets out, a whimper being drawn out of you.
Jeonghan tilts your chin up and begins to pepper your jawline with kisses, each more passionate than the last. He’s pushing your sweater’s neckline to the side by the time he reaches your collarbone, spurred on by your quiet moans and high intones of his name, nipping marks into your skin. Red blooms across your shoulders from his love bites.
“I didn’t know you were a biter,” you quip through gasps. “Should’ve figured, though.”
His fingers, running along your curves from under your sweater, suddenly pinch your butt. You yelp and whine at his antics while Jeonghan just laughs.
“Better than you, sweetheart,” he smirks, rubbing circles into your skin as a silent apology. “All bark, no bite.”
You kiss him to shut him up, tongue sliding against his before beginning to suck on his bottom lip. He tastes like the honey lemon tea you shared earlier at the cafe. You wonder if you taste the same.
A wave of heat scores through you at the thought, wanting nothing more than to eternally be enveloped by his scent, his taste, his everything. You don’t even realize how hard your hips are pressing into his until he breaks the kiss with a groan, bucking up into you with a delicious sigh.
You feel him, hard and hot and sorely needy, and you take the chance to grind back down against him, adoring the way his shuddering lips chase yours. The world is lost to you; all you know is Yoon Jeonghan, and he simply is enough.
“I want you,” you suddenly say, pausing to take in the sight below you.
His cheeks are flushed, yours no doubt no better, and his hoodie is barely hanging on to the lower half of his torso. Pale, muscled skin peeks out and tenses at your touch sliding up his abdomen. Jeonghan is glowing, and tears prick the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by emotion.
“I want you,” you repeat, lips ghosting his. “But I want you to want me, too. Do you?”
“Dumb question,” he whispers back. “That’s never been something to ask of me. It’s always been pure fact, like the origin of the word bog. Pine has different Latin roots, Orion chases the Pleiades, and I want you.”
A sigh escapes you, and you let yourself press once more to him, answering his confession with a kiss.
 I want you. Your body, made by the universe, retells your story over and over as it moves in time with his own. I want you and I want you to want me and I want us.
Jeonghan eagerly kisses you in return as if to say, Go ahead then, take me. Take it all. I want you.
Take everything in me, and leave nothing left but us.
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482 notes · View notes
ppyopulii · 1 month ago
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oh this is going in the reaction hall of fame
adehaijrskkfrk i can’t explain how HAPPY i am that u like this LOL night d(r)ive actually k-worded me SO OF COURSE I WAS SUPER DUPER INSPIREDDD <3 ur works are so gorgeous bro
thank u for the love i appreciate u sososo much coda đŸ„čđŸ„č
📋 the study of prosody.
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PREVIEW. pros·​o·​dy. noun. the patterns of stress and intonation in a language. an example of its use would be the study of the following phrases: i.) if you want me, ii.) if you want me, iii.) if you want me.
FEATURING. stargazer!yoon jeonghan x linguist!reader GENRE(S). yearning, fluff, friends to lovers, suggestive (minors beware.) LENGTH | WC. <20min | 3.4k words EXPLICITS. cursing, one (1) mention of a spider, r ends up on yjh’s lap, car makeout session, light marking, grinding, yjh calls r sweetheart, lowk sub!r & sub!yjh (they are so effing down bad for one another)
JAY’S MUSINGS. been in the Craziest jeonghan brainrot for So long. someone help. for my beloved ashi, @junplusone, as we will now unfortunately promptly disappear again as stem major curriculums pick up once more. i offer u my love thru begging jeonghan. tysm for beta-reading. (p.s. slightly inspired by @mochacoda's night d(r)ive!! there is so much love written into her words it consumes me whole. pls go take a look <3)
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE. if you want me, you better speak up by ljh. understand by keshi. striptease by carwash. touch tank by quinnie. better half by jeonghan (ft. omoinotake).
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i.) if you want me,
“Bog time?”
Jeonghan looks up from the GPS on his phone, an eyebrow quirked up at your out of the blue words. He has the address of a random park punched into the navigation, finger hovering over the Start Route button, but he easily swipes out of the tab as if it was a mere thought in the back of his mind.
“And what might you mean by,” he lazily curls two fingers in the air in quotation marks, “Bog time?”
To his question, you simply offer your phone to him. There’s a curve to his smile as he takes the device and stares at the screen; it’s directions to a wetland park about nine minutes out from your location, in some suburban neighborhood. Pictures show a few benches around the small pond and a trail leading behind to the forest.
You beam at him, eyes sparkling in the sun’s last rays of the day, like a pet showing its owner a present they brought back from the outside. “A bog! Have you ever been to one?”
Jeonghan hands you back your phone, fingers sliding against yours, and looks to the sky thoughtfully. He rests his hand on the steering wheel of his sleek black Toyota Camry, the leather glinting with shine, tapping his finger to a beat you wished you knew.
“Not until tonight, I haven’t,” is his smooth answer; and before you know it, he’s pulling the shift into drive and pressing hard on the gas.
Loving Yoon Jeonghan is easy.
It’s more of an afterthought for you at this point. You grab the last bag of his favorite chips at the convenience store? He’s planning his move to steal it as if you weren’t going to surrender it to him without a fight, but you play along anyway to indulge him. There’s a spider in the kitchen? He’s cheering you on for moral support as you grab a cup and some paper to trap it, but it takes one tremble of your hands for him to click his tongue, say you’re too slow, and get the job done for you.
His quick-witted, ever playful banter keeps you on your toes. You thrive in the presence of him like a sponge soaking up as much water as it can—except, unfortunately for you, you’re constantly on the verge of having it all flood out and drowning in it.
Because while loving Yoon Jeonghan is easy, wanting him is a whole different story.
Loving doesn’t result in an ache in your heart every time he talks about his latest date with someone. Loving doesn’t cause the burning pit in your stomach that surfaces when he leans over, just right, to whisper something only meant for your ears.
Love, to you, is the noun you hold for Jeonghan, stored in your hands when you light-heartedly swat him away with a tsk—and want is the verb that jumps out of you when he effortlessly catches your wrist in his hand, honey eyes gleaming in your lamp’s light.
“Yah, we’re here.”
His teasing tone snaps you out of your thoughts, and you blink in surprise. There’s no parking lot; his car is stalled on the side of the road, the headlights flickering for a moment before turning off.
“Where’s the bog?” you tilt your head in different directions, trying to get an unsuccessful glimpse of your surroundings.
Jeonghan snorts and pushes a lock of blonde hair behind his ear. “You tell me, dude. Can’t see shit out here.”
“Language,” you scold, before unlocking your side of the car and stepping out onto the sidewalk.
The neighborhood is quiet save for the occasional hoot of an owl and the wind’s loud escapades through the trees. You shiver and tuck yourself into the knitted sweater you had chosen for tonight, the wind picking up ever so slightly as if to mock your choice of clothing. Jeonghan is on your side before you can even think of yanking him out of the car, much to your dismay. He shuts your door and shines the flashlight of his phone onto the dewy lawn grass.
“What even is a bog?” Jeonghan queries as the two of you begin to walk in a seemingly random direction. “Just a wetland?”
“Basically, yeah. The thing we’re going too isn’t really a bog. More of a pond with some swamp aspects. I just think bog’s a funny word.”
Your shoes scrape against the cement. From Jeonghan’s light, you can see up ahead that just across the road is the sign from your Google Search, signifying your destination is close. Your eyes trace the trail winding behind it into the forest.
“Explain it to me.”
Startled, you glance back. Jeonghan’s face is faintly illuminated from the light bouncing off of you. If you were to focus well enough, you would be able to outline the slope of his cheekbone and the way some strands of his hair brushed against it ever so softly.
“The word bog? Are you serious? It’s really nothing,” you try to argue, turning back around.
“Come on. Try me.”
You heave a sigh. “Alright. If you want me to.”
“Yah. ‘Course I want you to.”
The air feels a little thicker now, but you swallow the feeling back and press forward as the grass gets taller. You wish it was warmer; maybe, if you were lucky, you’d be able to hear the night calls of a toad, or see fireflies milling about the shoreline.
“Gaelic origin, mostly. Just an adjective that describes something that’s soft and damp. There’s also some roots back to Ireland—they had a word that describes moist ground.”
While you’re explaining, Jeonghan carefully takes the lead, shining his flashlight onto the wooden sign marking the entrance to the trail and oncoming wetland. He hums in response.
“Nerd.”
You smack his shoulder blade.
“Ow—fuck, okay, I’m sorry!”
He’s laughing, and like the death of a star your anger explodes into oblivion, rolling your eyes good-naturedly as you shove him with your elbow. “You were the one who asked.”
“Ah, I suppose you’re right.” You glance at Jeonghan from within your peripherals while he speaks. There’s a flicker of surprise as you take note of his small smile that curls with an emotion you can’t quite read.
“Can’t help it, y’know,” he muses aloud. “To want is a cruel thing.”
ii.) if you want me,
Your breath evens as the concrete path gradually gives way to wooden boardwalk. The two of you walk quietly side by side, the water’s surface still and reflecting the moon’s light from above. Jeonghan had mentioned earlier that it was a waxing gibbous, and that a super moon would be occurring in a few nights’ time.
Moments were always stolen with Jeonghan—not because you two didn’t have the time for each other, but more so because you two seemed to have all the time in the world to spend in each other’s presence. Inseparable like the twin stars marked by the constellation dubbed Gemini, you grew so used to his existence that it took outrageously spontaneous adventures like this one to really cherish him.
Or, in this particular case, curse him and his ever observant nature.
“You want me to do what?”
“Just come here,” he urges, opening his arms a little wider.
Your hesitance is palpable, but ultimately, you relent, wiggling your way into his warm embrace. His hoodie is worn with seasons of journeys that you’ve accompanied him on, and it’s always been a comfort you’ve relied on for warmth.
Just
 never with him alongside it.
“There you go,” Jeonghan’s lips skim the crown of your hairline and you shudder, the motion backfiring on you when he only presses you closer to him. “Y’know, you usually know better than to wear the thinnest knitted sweater known to man on a night like this.”
“You could’ve just given me your hoodie, you know.”
He shrugs. “Didn’t want to do that. Then I’d be freezing. This is a win-win.”
“You’re insufferable,” you say, and bury yourself further against the fabric.
The self-proclaimed bog is forgotten as the two of you find more interesting things to take notice of. Once more, a comfortable quiet overtakes you two, with your eyes following the sway of a tree’s branches and Jeonghan focused on the sky above. A moment to journal about later, maybe, with a fern taken and pressed to be studied after it dried. Perhaps tonight you’d snag the formidable prickles of the pine tree nearby. You’d always be interested in how words took shape after nature, the conifer’s history included.
As if on cue, Jeonghan’s voice is pulling you out of your thoughts in asking about the tree before you two. You respond in turn about the specifics of the pine.
“Doesn’t that have another meaning? Pine?”
“Mhm,” you hum noncommittally. “The tree existed first, then the verb pine came about later; means to long for or seek after, similar to yearning. They both actually stem from two different Latin words—pine tree from pinus and pining from poena. Cool how they ended up as the same word though, huh?”
Jeonghan is surprisingly still for a while. Leaves rustle nearby, being stirred by the wind, and you bite your lip.
Even though he’s heard you ramble about nonsense background contexts of words a thousand times over, the silence scares you. Sometimes you still fear Jeonghan will be bored by your constant, monotone voice, as if he was only listening to reply rather than understand.
“Hey, look up. D’you see those three stars up there?”
You glance above the tree you’re studying and nod against the fabric of his hoodie. The three stars in question are a straight shot line, banded together diagonally like a belt. Above those, another group of stars come together to form the torso of a man, one arm held out to hold something akin to a bow.
“Orion and his belt,” you confirm. “You’ve told me his story before—the hunter who boasted about killing all animals, right? I remember arguing about the right myth to follow.”
“Yeah, well, there’s more to it,” Jeonghan chuckles and wraps his arms a smidge tighter around you. You try to ignore the electricity shooting through your veins, piercing your heart like a lightning strike.
He lowers his face so that his mouth is close, so close, right by your ear. Freeing one of his hands from your embrace, he tilts your chin up with his fingers ever so slightly, pointing at a faint cluster of stars somewhere above and to the right. You squint your eyes to focus better as Jeonghan softly begins his story.
“The Pleiades were seven sisters who were sought after by Orion. Their father was Atlas, the Titan condemned to holding up the sky, and once barred to his eternal punishment, Orion took this chance to begin his pursuit. He was persistent in his chase for the sisters, wanting to win any of their favors through any means possible. Zeus eventually had enough of Orion’s attempts and turned the Pleiades into doves to free them; however, they asked to be placed in the sky to be closer to their father. That’s how the constellation we know of now came to be formed. Unfortunately for them, Orion took to the skies soon after and continues to chase them to this day.”
It’s your turn to fall speechless. Something about the tale makes your bottom lip jut out in a solemn expression; eternal punishment of any form, be it to hold up the sky for forever or to be chased unwillingly by a hunter in various forms, makes your heart ache. You stubbornly hope there is an end to your own suffering, fingers shaking as Jeonghan pulls his hand away from cupping your face.
“Don’t worry, though,” he whispers; his tone is so gentle it has you leaning into him subconsciously. “The Pleiades are safe. All Orion can do is long for, or pine after them, as you so dutifully defined for me earlier.”
“I’m glad.” Your voice, low and full of emotion, is almost lost to the wind as it begins to surge. “Sometimes feelings just can’t be returned, no matter how much we desire them to be. I would want them to be happy.”
You stare woefully at the sisters. Jeonghan’s gaze remains fixated on you.
“Me too.”
iii.) if you want me.
As you stare up at Orion and the Pleiades, your gaze rests on the silhouette of the tree before the two of you. The branches sway in the wind, catching the breeze, and you trail the outline of the tree across the sky. From just the right angle, Orion seems to lean against the pine, his weight being supported by the sturdy evergreen like it had grown specifically for him to rest upon. The thought makes you smile.
“Isn’t it crazy?” comes your muffled murmur from against the material of his hoodie; Jeonghan makes a noise for you to continue.
“Just.. how perfectly nature fits within itself sometimes, like one big recurring metaphor. As if the mother of the universe finds her favorite verses in the stars and rewrites them over and over because she can’t get enough of them.”
The wind begins to die down; there’s no need for you to be bundled up within Jeonghan’s arms, but you stay, waiting with bated breath for his response.
“How so?”
Perhaps it’s the late hour that boldens you with no room for overthinking, your phones tucked neatly away in your pockets as to not distract you. Your heart is throwing itself against your ribcage as you muster up a confession.
“There’s so many tales like Orion and the Pleiades, as sad as it is. But there are just as many triumphs as there are tragedies, all recreated over and over. The universe—she’s trying to tell us something. She’s telling us to find love in each other, and therefore, in ourselves.”
You swallow back any possible regret and finish, “Personally, I think I’ve received the message pretty well through you.”
There’s a sharp intake of air. You feel Jeonghan exhale a breath, tingling your skin, and his lips are so close they kiss the shell of your ear as they move.
“I agree. I guess we are yet another recreation of her favorite tale of love, then.”
Something shifts in you; an unspoken agreement that has your head reeling when he doesn’t let you slip away from him on the way back to the car. Your fingers are grasped lightly in his, and soft giggles tumble out of you when he fumbles to open the door of your side. They fall silent as he slides in, adjusting the chair back and looking up at you expectantly. His hand is out for you to take.
“Well?” is all he says, and the single word’s implication hits you like a freight truck.
Aren’t you going to be with me?
The wind howls, delighted and amped up from the excitement swirling within you. Your hair whips around your face protectively, tears beginning to stain the apples of your cheeks. There is nothing in your mind except for the way Jeonghan’s wisps of blonde hair fall away from their place behind his ears. You ache to fix them.
“Are you sure?” is all you can croak out.
His eyes shine in the moonlight, and with no hesitation he replies, “Yes, if you want me.”
Your weight rests on his lap in a painfully easy manner. The car door clicks shut and is swiftly locked, and before you know it, Jeonghan’s hands are settled around your waist.
“Hi.” You squeak ever so eloquently.
Jeonghan has his face mere inches away from you. His nose tickles yours in a sheepish laugh. “Hi to you, too.”
“Did you mean it?” you blurt out with trembling fingers, daring to clutch onto the hem of his sweater as if he’ll blow away with no warning. “Are you serious about this?”
“I haven’t even said anything yet,” he teases. “Are you saying I’ve been implying something tonight?”
“I want to say so. I want to believe that you have been.”
The way your name falls off his tongue is pure silk, and you swear he’s reinvented a new meaning to it just now. Who knew that meanings could be born from different intonations?
“Please,” Jeonghan breathes your name again; it’s a borderline whine that rushes the air out of your lungs. “Just let me want you. I’ve been denied it for so long.”
The kiss that follows is searing, burning with the desire you’ve wrestled with shoving back into your throat until now. You aren’t entirely sure who’s lips pressed to who’s first, but what you are sure of is the moan that slips from Jeonghan’s mouth, his breathing harsh and ragged.
“Fuck,” he mutters, and you have half the mind to tell him to mind his language again when he interrupts you by squeezing your waist. “You’re so goddamn hot.”
Laughter bubbles out of you. Jeonghan glances up at you in surprise, his eyelashes fluttering with confusion. You giggle and cup his cheek.
“Weren’t you just versing poetry to me thirty seconds ago? What happened to that?”
He just shrugs and leans forward to press a feverish kiss to your lips. “The duality of man.”
“The duality of man, indeed,” you murmur.
Your fingernails scrape along his neck enticingly, tangling in the tufts of his blonde hair. You give an experimental tug and revel in the gasp he lets out, a whimper being drawn out of you.
Jeonghan tilts your chin up and begins to pepper your jawline with kisses, each more passionate than the last. He’s pushing your sweater’s neckline to the side by the time he reaches your collarbone, spurred on by your quiet moans and high intones of his name, nipping marks into your skin. Red blooms across your shoulders from his love bites.
“I didn’t know you were a biter,” you quip through gasps. “Should’ve figured, though.”
His fingers, running along your curves from under your sweater, suddenly pinch your butt. You yelp and whine at his antics while Jeonghan just laughs.
“Better than you, sweetheart,” he smirks, rubbing circles into your skin as a silent apology. “All bark, no bite.”
You kiss him to shut him up, tongue sliding against his before beginning to suck on his bottom lip. He tastes like the honey lemon tea you shared earlier at the cafe. You wonder if you taste the same.
A wave of heat scores through you at the thought, wanting nothing more than to eternally be enveloped by his scent, his taste, his everything. You don’t even realize how hard your hips are pressing into his until he breaks the kiss with a groan, bucking up into you with a delicious sigh.
You feel him, hard and hot and sorely needy, and you take the chance to grind back down against him, adoring the way his shuddering lips chase yours. The world is lost to you; all you know is Yoon Jeonghan, and he simply is enough.
“I want you,” you suddenly say, pausing to take in the sight below you.
His cheeks are flushed, yours no doubt no better, and his hoodie is barely hanging on to the lower half of his torso. Pale, muscled skin peeks out and tenses at your touch sliding up his abdomen. Jeonghan is glowing, and tears prick the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by emotion.
“I want you,” you repeat, lips ghosting his. “But I want you to want me, too. Do you?”
“Dumb question,” he whispers back. “That’s never been something to ask of me. It’s always been pure fact, like the origin of the word bog. Pine has different Latin roots, Orion chases the Pleiades, and I want you.”
A sigh escapes you, and you let yourself press once more to him, answering his confession with a kiss.
 I want you. Your body, made by the universe, retells your story over and over as it moves in time with his own. I want you and I want you to want me and I want us.
Jeonghan eagerly kisses you in return as if to say, Go ahead then, take me. Take it all. I want you.
Take everything in me, and leave nothing left but us.
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ppyopulii · 1 month ago
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u know i had to do it to em ashi. it’s jeonghan’s world and i fear we are all just living in it đŸ™‚â€â†•ïž. i love u pls don’t crash out too hard (i watched it happen in the doc live when she was beta-reading)
📋 the study of prosody.
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PREVIEW. pros·​o·​dy. noun. the patterns of stress and intonation in a language. an example of its use would be the study of the following phrases: i.) if you want me, ii.) if you want me, iii.) if you want me.
FEATURING. stargazer!yoon jeonghan x linguist!reader GENRE(S). yearning, fluff, friends to lovers, suggestive (mdni.) LENGTH | WC. <20min | 3.4k words EXPLICITS. cursing, one (1) mention of a spider, r ends up on yjh’s lap, car makeout session, light marking, grinding, yjh calls r sweetheart, lowk sub!r & sub!yjh (they are so effing down bad for one another)
JAY’S MUSINGS. been in the Craziest jeonghan brainrot for So long. someone help. for my beloved ashi, @junplusone, as we will now unfortunately promptly disappear again as stem major curriculums pick up once more. i offer u my love thru begging jeonghan. tysm for beta-reading. (p.s. slightly inspired by @mochacoda's night d(r)ive!! there is so much love written into her words it consumes me whole. pls go take a look <3)
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE. if you want me, you better speak up by ljh. understand by keshi. striptease by carwash. touch tank by quinnie. better half by jeonghan (ft. omoinotake).
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i.) if you want me,
“Bog time?”
Jeonghan looks up from the GPS on his phone, an eyebrow quirked up at your out of the blue words. He has the address of a random park punched into the navigation, finger hovering over the Start Route button, but he easily swipes out of the tab as if it was a mere thought in the back of his mind.
“And what might you mean by,” he lazily curls two fingers in the air in quotation marks, “Bog time?”
To his question, you simply offer your phone to him. There’s a curve to his smile as he takes the device and stares at the screen; it’s directions to a wetland park about nine minutes out from your location, in some suburban neighborhood. Pictures show a few benches around the small pond and a trail leading behind to the forest.
You beam at him, eyes sparkling in the sun’s last rays of the day, like a pet showing its owner a present they brought back from the outside. “A bog! Have you ever been to one?”
Jeonghan hands you back your phone, fingers sliding against yours, and looks to the sky thoughtfully. He rests his hand on the steering wheel of his sleek black Toyota Camry, the leather glinting with shine, tapping his finger to a beat you wished you knew.
“Not until tonight, I haven’t,” is his smooth answer; and before you know it, he’s pulling the shift into drive and pressing hard on the gas.
Loving Yoon Jeonghan is easy.
It’s more of an afterthought for you at this point. You grab the last bag of his favorite chips at the convenience store? He’s planning his move to steal it as if you weren’t going to surrender it to him without a fight, but you play along anyway to indulge him. There’s a spider in the kitchen? He’s cheering you on for moral support as you grab a cup and some paper to trap it, but it takes one tremble of your hands for him to click his tongue, say you’re too slow, and get the job done for you.
His quick-witted, ever playful banter keeps you on your toes. You thrive in the presence of him like a sponge soaking up as much water as it can—except, unfortunately for you, you’re constantly on the verge of having it all flood out and drowning in it.
Because while loving Yoon Jeonghan is easy, wanting him is a whole different story.
Loving doesn’t result in an ache in your heart every time he talks about his latest date with someone. Loving doesn’t cause the burning pit in your stomach that surfaces when he leans over, just right, to whisper something only meant for your ears.
Love, to you, is the noun you hold for Jeonghan, stored in your hands when you light-heartedly swat him away with a tsk—and want is the verb that jumps out of you when he effortlessly catches your wrist in his hand, honey eyes gleaming in your lamp’s light.
“Yah, we’re here.”
His teasing tone snaps you out of your thoughts, and you blink in surprise. There’s no parking lot; his car is stalled on the side of the road, the headlights flickering for a moment before turning off.
“Where’s the bog?” you tilt your head in different directions, trying to get an unsuccessful glimpse of your surroundings.
Jeonghan snorts and pushes a lock of blonde hair behind his ear. “You tell me, dude. Can’t see shit out here.”
“Language,” you scold, before unlocking your side of the car and stepping out onto the sidewalk.
The neighborhood is quiet save for the occasional hoot of an owl and the wind’s loud escapades through the trees. You shiver and tuck yourself into the knitted sweater you had chosen for tonight, the wind picking up ever so slightly as if to mock your choice of clothing. Jeonghan is on your side before you can even think of yanking him out of the car, much to your dismay. He shuts your door and shines the flashlight of his phone onto the dewy lawn grass.
“What even is a bog?” Jeonghan queries as the two of you begin to walk in a seemingly random direction. “Just a wetland?”
“Basically, yeah. The thing we’re going too isn’t really a bog. More of a pond with some swamp aspects. I just think bog’s a funny word.”
Your shoes scrape against the cement. From Jeonghan’s light, you can see up ahead that just across the road is the sign from your Google Search, signifying your destination is close. Your eyes trace the trail winding behind it into the forest.
“Explain it to me.”
Startled, you glance back. Jeonghan’s face is faintly illuminated from the light bouncing off of you. If you were to focus well enough, you would be able to outline the slope of his cheekbone and the way some strands of his hair brushed against it ever so softly.
“The word bog? Are you serious? It’s really nothing,” you try to argue, turning back around.
“Come on. Try me.”
You heave a sigh. “Alright. If you want me to.”
“Yah. ‘Course I want you to.”
The air feels a little thicker now, but you swallow the feeling back and press forward as the grass gets taller. You wish it was warmer; maybe, if you were lucky, you’d be able to hear the night calls of a toad, or see fireflies milling about the shoreline.
“Gaelic origin, mostly. Just an adjective that describes something that’s soft and damp. There’s also some roots back to Ireland—they had a word that describes moist ground.”
While you’re explaining, Jeonghan carefully takes the lead, shining his flashlight onto the wooden sign marking the entrance to the trail and oncoming wetland. He hums in response.
“Nerd.”
You smack his shoulder blade.
“Ow—fuck, okay, I’m sorry!”
He’s laughing, and like the death of a star your anger explodes into oblivion, rolling your eyes good-naturedly as you shove him with your elbow. “You were the one who asked.”
“Ah, I suppose you’re right.” You glance at Jeonghan from within your peripherals while he speaks. There’s a flicker of surprise as you take note of his small smile that curls with an emotion you can’t quite read.
“Can’t help it, y’know,” he muses aloud. “To want is a cruel thing.”
ii.) if you want me,
Your breath evens as the concrete path gradually gives way to wooden boardwalk. The two of you walk quietly side by side, the water’s surface still and reflecting the moon’s light from above. Jeonghan had mentioned earlier that it was a waxing gibbous, and that a super moon would be occurring in a few nights’ time.
Moments were always stolen with Jeonghan—not because you two didn’t have the time for each other, but more so because you two seemed to have all the time in the world to spend in each other’s presence. Inseparable like the twin stars marked by the constellation dubbed Gemini, you grew so used to his existence that it took outrageously spontaneous adventures like this one to really cherish him.
Or, in this particular case, curse him and his ever observant nature.
“You want me to do what?”
“Just come here,” he urges, opening his arms a little wider.
Your hesitance is palpable, but ultimately, you relent, wiggling your way into his warm embrace. His hoodie is worn with seasons of journeys that you’ve accompanied him on, and it’s always been a comfort you’ve relied on for warmth.
Just
 never with him alongside it.
“There you go,” Jeonghan’s lips skim the crown of your hairline and you shudder, the motion backfiring on you when he only presses you closer to him. “Y’know, you usually know better than to wear the thinnest knitted sweater known to man on a night like this.”
“You could’ve just given me your hoodie, you know.”
He shrugs. “Didn’t want to do that. Then I’d be freezing. This is a win-win.”
“You’re insufferable,” you say, and bury yourself further against the fabric.
The self-proclaimed bog is forgotten as the two of you find more interesting things to take notice of. Once more, a comfortable quiet overtakes you two, with your eyes following the sway of a tree’s branches and Jeonghan focused on the sky above. A moment to journal about later, maybe, with a fern taken and pressed to be studied after it dried. Perhaps tonight you’d snag the formidable prickles of the pine tree nearby. You’d always be interested in how words took shape after nature, the conifer’s history included.
As if on cue, Jeonghan’s voice is pulling you out of your thoughts in asking about the tree before you two. You respond in turn about the specifics of the pine.
“Doesn’t that have another meaning? Pine?”
“Mhm,” you hum noncommittally. “The tree existed first, then the verb pine came about later; means to long for or seek after, similar to yearning. They both actually stem from two different Latin words—pine tree from pinus and pining from poena. Cool how they ended up as the same word though, huh?”
Jeonghan is surprisingly still for a while. Leaves rustle nearby, being stirred by the wind, and you bite your lip.
Even though he’s heard you ramble about nonsense background contexts of words a thousand times over, the silence scares you. Sometimes you still fear Jeonghall will be bored by your constant, monotone voice, as if he was only listening to reply rather than understand.
“Hey, look up. D’you see those three stars up there?”
You glance above the tree you’re studying and nod against the fabric of his hoodie. The three stars in question are a straight shot line, banded together diagonally like a belt. Above those, another group of stars come together to form the torso of a man, one arm held out to hold something akin to a bow.
“Orion and his belt,” you confirm. “You’ve told me his story before—the hunter who boasted about killing all animals, right? I remember arguing about the right myth to follow.”
“Yeah, well, there’s more to it,” Jeonghan chuckles and wraps his arms a smidge tighter around you. You try to ignore the electricity shooting through your veins, piercing your heart like a lightning strike.
He lowers his face so that his mouth is close, so close, right by your ear. Freeing one of his hands from your embrace, he tilts your chin up with his fingers ever so slightly, pointing at a faint cluster of stars somewhere above and to the right. You squint your eyes to focus better as Jeonghan softly begins his story.
“The Pleiades were seven sisters who were sought after by Orion. Their father was Atlas, the Titan condemned to holding up the sky, and once barred to his eternal punishment, Orion took this chance to begin his pursuit. He was persistent in his chase for the sisters, wanting to win any of their favors through any means possible. Zeus eventually had enough of Orion’s attempts and turned the Pleiades into doves to free them; however, they asked to be placed in the sky to be closer to their father. That’s how the constellation we know of now came to be formed. Unfortunately for them, Orion took to the skies soon after and continues to chase them to this day.”
It’s your turn to fall speechless. Something about the tale makes your bottom lip jut out in a solemn expression; eternal punishment of any form, be it to hold up the sky for forever or to be chased unwillingly by a hunter in various forms, makes your heart ache. You stubbornly hope there is an end to your own suffering, fingers shaking as Jeonghan pulls his hand away from cupping your face.
“Don’t worry, though,” he whispers; his tone is so gentle it has you leaning into him subconsciously. “The Pleiades are safe. All Orion can do is long for, or pine after them, as you so dutifully defined for me earlier.”
“I’m glad.” Your voice, low and full of emotion, is almost lost to the wind as it begins to surge. “Sometimes feelings just can’t be returned, no matter how much we desire them to be. I would want them to be happy.”
You stare woefully at the sisters. Jeonghan’s gaze remains fixated on you.
“Me too.”
iii.) if you want me.
As you stare up at Orion and the Pleiades, your gaze rests on the silhouette of the tree before the two of you. The branches sway in the wind, catching the breeze, and you trail the outline of the tree across the sky. From just the right angle, Orion seems to lean against the pine, his weight being supported by the sturdy evergreen like it had grown specifically for him to rest upon. The thought makes you smile.
“Isn’t it crazy?” comes your muffled murmur from against the material of his hoodie; Jeonghan makes a noise for you to continue.
“Just.. how perfectly nature fits within itself sometimes, like one big recurring metaphor. As if the mother of the universe finds her favorite verses in the stars and rewrites them over and over because she can’t get enough of them.”
The wind begins to die down; there’s no need for you to be bundled up within Jeonghan’s arms, but you stay, waiting with bated breath for his response.
“How so?”
Perhaps it’s the late hour that boldens you with no room for overthinking, your phones tucked neatly away in your pockets as to not distract you.Your heart is throwing itself against your ribcage as you muster up a confession.
“There’s so many tales like Orion and the Pleiades, as sad as it is. But there are just as many triumphs as there are tragedies, all recreated over and over. The universe—she’s trying to tell us something. She’s telling us to find love in each other, and therefore, in ourselves.”
You swallow back any possible regret and finish, “Personally, I think I’ve received the message pretty well through you.”
There’s a sharp intake of air. You feel Jeonghan exhale a breath, tingling your skin, and his lips are so close they kiss the shell of your ear as they move.
“I agree. I guess we are yet another recreation of her favorite tale of love, then.”
Something shifts in you; an unspoken agreement that has your head reeling when he doesn’t let you slip away from him on the way back to the car. Your fingers are grasped lightly in his, and soft giggles tumble out of you when he fumbles to open the door of your side. They fall silent as he slides in, adjusting the chair back and looking up at you expectantly. His hand is out for you to take.
“Well?” is all he says, and the single word’s implication hits you like a freight truck.
Aren’t you going to be with me?
The wind howls, delighted and amped up from the excitement swirling within you. Your hair whips around your face protectively, tears beginning to stain the apples of your cheeks. There is nothing in your mind except for the way Jeonghan’s wisps of blonde hair fall away from their place behind his ears. You ache to fix them.
“Are you sure?” is all you can croak out.
His eyes shine in the moonlight, and with no hesitation he replies, “Yes, if you want me.”
Your weight rests on his lap in a painfully easy manner. The car door clicks shut and is swiftly locked, and before you know it, Jeonghan’s hands are settled around your waist.
“Hi.” You squeak ever so eloquently.
Jeonghan has his face mere inches away from you. His nose tickles yours in a sheepish laugh. “Hi to you, too.”
“Did you mean it?” you blurt out with trembling fingers, daring to clutch onto the hem of his sweater as if he’ll blow away with no warning. “Are you serious about this?”
“I haven’t even said anything yet,” he teases. “Are you saying I’ve been implying something tonight?”
“I want to say so. I want to believe that you have been.”
The way your name falls off his tongue is pure silk, and you swear he’s reinvented a new meaning to it just now. Who knew that meanings could be born from different intonations?
“Please,” Jeonghan breathes your name again; it’s a borderline whine that rushes the air out of your lungs. “Just let me want you. I’ve been denied it for so long.”
The kiss that follows is searing, burning with the desire you’ve wrestled with shoving back into your throat until now. You aren’t entirely sure who’s lips pressed to who’s first, but what you are sure of is the moan that slips from Jeonghan’s mouth, his breathing harsh and ragged.
“Fuck,” he mutters, and you have half the mind to tell him to mind his language again when he interrupts you by squeezing your waist. “You’re so goddamn hot.”
Laughter bubbles out of you. Jeonghan glances up at you in surprise, his eyelashes fluttering with confusion. You giggle and cup his cheek.
“Weren’t you just versing poetry to me thirty seconds ago? What happened to that?”
He just shrugs and leans forward to press a feverish kiss to your lips. “The duality of man.”
“The duality of man, indeed,” you murmur.
Your fingernails scrape along his neck enticingly, tangling in the tufts of his blonde hair. You give an experimental tug and revel in the gasp he lets out, a whimper being drawn out of you.
Jeonghan tilts your chin up and begins to pepper your jawline with kisses, each more passionate than the last. He’s pushing your sweater’s neckline to the side by the time he reaches your collarbone, spurred on by your quiet moans and high intones of his name, nipping marks into your skin. Red blooms across your shoulders from his love bites.
“I didn’t know you were a biter,” you quip through gasps. “Should’ve figured, though.”
His fingers, running along your curves from under your sweater, suddenly pinch your butt. You yelp and whine at his antics while Jeonghan just laughs.
“Better than you, sweetheart,” he smirks, rubbing circles into your skin as a silent apology. “All bark, no bite.”
You kiss him to shut him up, tongue sliding against his before beginning to suck on his bottom lip. He tastes like the honey lemon tea you shared earlier at the cafe. You wonder if you taste the same.
A wave of heat scores through you at the thought, wanting nothing more than to eternally be enveloped by his scent, his taste, his everything. You don’t even realize how hard your hips are pressing into his until he breaks the kiss with a groan, bucking up into you with a delicious sigh.
You feel him, hard and hot and sorely needy, and you take the chance to grind back down against him, adoring the way his shuddering lips chase yours. The world is lost to you; all you know is Yoon Jeonghan, and he simply is enough.
“I want you,” you suddenly say, pausing to take in the sight below you.
His cheeks are flushed, yours no doubt no better, and his hoodie is barely hanging on to the lower half of his torso. Pale, muscled skin peeks out and tenses at your touch sliding up his abdomen. Jeonghan is glowing, and tears prick the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by emotion.
“I want you,” you repeat, lips ghosting his. “But I want you to want me, too. Do you?”
“Dumb question,” he whispers back. “That’s never been something to ask of me. It’s always been pure fact, like the origin of the word bog. Pine has different Latin roots, Orion chases the Pleiades, and I want you.”
A sigh escapes you, and you let yourself press once more to him, answering his confession with a kiss.
 I want you. Your body, made by the universe, retells your story over and over as it moves in time with his own. I want you and I want you to want me and I want us.
Jeonghan eagerly kisses you in return as if to say, Go ahead then, take me. Take it all. I want you.
Take everything in me, and leave nothing left but us.
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ppyopulii · 1 month ago
Text
heh. Mwheheheheheehbeehehj
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send-off ⏳ (demo ver.)
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PREVIEW. “I have no words for them other than ‘take care.’ I have nothing to say that will comfort worries should they have any.”
FEATURING. choi seungcheol x reader GENRE(S). established relationship, hurt/comfort LENGTH | WC. <10min | 1k words EXPLICITS. one (1) curse word, descriptions of kissing
JAY’S MUSINGS. this
 was supposed to be a 200 word drabble. my heart goes out to @etherealyoungk and @junplusone. thank u for watching me crash out about caratland. and of course, lots of love goes out to csc today and tomorrow and forevermore. u will always be their #1 role model, cheollie.
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE. unlovable by glowie. honesty by pink sweat$. lover by taylor swift. soldier, poet, king by the oh hellos. tahanan by adie. love. by wave to earth.
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“What’s in your heart?”
There’s a heaviness piling on Seungcheol’s character, one that knots his shoulder blades together and wears on the crease in between his eyebrows. Your whisper of a question to him has a breath stuttering out of his throat in response.
His grip on his phone loosens, and a quick glance at the screen confirms your worries. It’s a viral edit of various CARATLAND adventures; Wonwoo’s bright smile molds into Jeonghan’s smirk and makes your heart sink. You can only guess that the next member to appear is Soonyoung, and you’re proven right when the video automatically replays to showcase the energetic dancer.
You sigh.
“Cheol,” you press a kiss to his shoulder, taking note of the tense muscle and reminding yourself to make him a cup of his favorite tea in a bit. “Let’s go to bed, yeah? You’ve had a long day.”
He doesn’t answer you right away. Instead, your husband lets his phone clatter to the coffee table’s mahogany wood, running a hand through his hair. It’s kept a little longer than usual, freshly dyed with red streakings, something you suggested to him when he was looking for new inspiration on how to style it.
You’re about to call out to him again when Seungcheol squeezes his eyes shut.
“What kind of leader am I?”
His voice is quiet in volume, but the question echoes throughout your dimly lit living room, bouncing off the walls of framed photos and hanging plants.
“I–” Seungcheol starts, before running another hand through his hair, “I’m supposed to be the strong one. The one that they look up to in hard times. What kind of model do I serve as when I can’t be there for them through something as big as enlistment?”
“I have to sit back and watch them enlist, one by one, and all I can do is wish them well. Jeonghan-ah and Wonwoo–” his voice breaks on the last syllable of Wonwoo’s name, “They’re not on active duty. But what about Jihoon-ah? Or Hoshi? I have no words for them other than ‘take care.’ I have nothing to say that will comfort worries should they have any.”
He ends with burying his face in his worn, calloused hands. They’re rough to the touch, you know firsthand—but you take in the way Seungcheol’s right pinky is laced with a silver ring and a gold band is wrapped snugly around his left ring finger, eyes drawn to the polished metals with awe. The reason they fit so perfectly with nothing more than a speck of rust is his continuous, present care—damned be the experience his hands have been through.
“Seungcheol,” you murmur, resting your chin on his shoulder before snaking your arms around his hefty torso. “Seungcheol. Your presence is enough. It will always be enough.”
“How good can my presence be if I don’t even—”
“They are not asking you to live their life for them through an unknown chapter,” you cut him off sharply. “They are not asking you to teach them the ways of the world. They are asking you to be there. To stand with them and listen to them and be present.”
Seungcheol, oh, your Seungcheol—he’s crying, pulling his crewneck up to hide his red-rimmed eyes and turning into your body to shield himself from the world. You draw soothing, long circles across his back as he weeps, taking deep breaths to keep your own tears at bay.
“I know you burden yourself with the task of being their leader,” your voice is softer now, dulled with your love for him. “You have for the past decade now. But this? They are not asking you to lead them. They are asking you to simply be their friend.”
“And you are,” you gently push his sweater down and bring his face to yours, hands wiping away his salty tears. “And you will be. I know you will.”
He hiccups before leaning into you, rubbing his face along your fingers that so eagerly hold him. You pay no mind to the snot and saltwater; how could you, when you’re currently holding your whole universe in your hands?
His eyes are closed, eyelashes curling with every breath, and you softly press your lips to his right eyelid. Seungcheol barely stirs. You continue, kissing his left eyelid, then his temple, before murmuring sweet words of comfort to each of his blushing cheeks.
“You’ve done well, Cheollie.” Your lover is now gripping your face with those lovely toughened hands of his own, lips quivering while he kisses you with all the strength he has left in him. “There is no more to be asked of you from anyone. You have proven yourself, a thousand times over.”
“Thank you,” he sobs against your mouth; you welcome another open-mouthed kiss, his teeth clinking against yours. “Thank you. I love you. What did I do to deserve you? To deserve them?”
You giggle, the sound reverberating through your living room and whisking away all of his shadowing thoughts. He quietly laughs along with you, a chuckle that warms you to the bone, and you know your Seungcheol is back.
He clasps his hands over yours and smiles at you; you can feel the heat radiating off his fingers that meets the cool metal band of your own wedding ring, and Seungcheol thumbs over it like a promise. His eyes are shining despite his tears.
“Nothing, silly,” you finally answer. “You did nothing but be yourself. And isn’t that enough?”
Choi Seungcheol kisses you like it’s the last breath he’ll ever take.
“And isn’t that enough,” he echoes.
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