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i'll fuck you if you let me, baby by disillusioned (miscalculated)
Fandoms: 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
19 Dec 2020
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Summary
Yoongi leans close, closer, their mouths nearly fucking touching. Namjoon’s fingers dig in-between the gaps of Yoongi’s ribs. “Suran can’t come,” he repeats, loud, breath ghosting over Namjoon’s skin, heavy with spicy whiskey and cigarette smoke. “Too late.”
Namjoon leans even closer, and this time there’s no where else to go; their lips are officially touching. “Sucks,” Namjoon slurs. And before his useless fucking brain can decide what to do about this sudden development, Yoongi appears to have a better handle on reality than he does, because Yoongi’s kissing him, little puckers of his lips against Namjoon’s that would make smacking sounds if the club wasn’t so god damn loud.
He lets Yoongi do it. The hand over Yoongi’s ribs rub down to his hips, then up again, over and over, unable to be seen since it’s happening underneath his jacket. Adrenaline and pure joy seems to be affecting both of them, not just Namjoon; they’ve never experienced this level of success in the past four years of building a cheap excuse of a career.
*
Namjoon and Yoongi's careers are taking off. They're so happy, they fuck.
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"For years they’ve touched carefully, in ways that got compacted into ritual even before Jimin realised; Yoongi’s hand on the back of Jimin’s neck petting absently at the side (allowed), Jimin’s leg hooking over Yoongi’s thigh if they’re sitting (allowed), slinging an arm over each other’s shoulders (allowed), holding hands on stage (allowed), or for a stupid game (allowed) and – the shower boner (an aberration). Just loneliness, probably."
OR i love you. aww, me too. no, not like that (The Fic)
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Namjoon must become one with the woods, a place where no one knows that he accidentally told his best friend that he loves him. He doesn't get very far.
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“How do I know we won’t end up in fuck-ass Timbuktu or somewhere?” he murmurs back, teasing, half-asleep and thinking even less than not. Imagining how Jeongguk’s sly smirk looks then in the darkness, the blue of his sling like a slice of ocean and sky in the back of the cab.
“Don’t you trust me, Taehyung from Environmental Science?”
“Yeah,” Taehyung sighs. “Yeah— weirdly, I do.”
Taehyung doesn't like jocks. Jeongguk is different.
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Jungkook looks up at the camera. His thumb plays with the corner of his lip, catching slightly on the silver ring there. His eyes widen just a little, playing up the feigned innocence all the while looking utterly sinful. When he speaks, his words are far breathier than they need to be, but just enough to stay within the realms of appropriate.
“Oh. Am I in trouble, hyung?”
[Or: Yoongi really shouldn't text Jungkook in the middle of his live. He does anyway.]