(○゜ε^○) (onyu) wrote in writetomyheart,
(○゜ε^○)
onyu
writetomyheart

[TEAM FIVE] all we need now is the dark

I'd initially planned to write something short buuuut here we are!

Many, many thanks to L for the quick consult, and to my sprinting buddies, Double A, for holding my hand as I wrote this. Bless your kind soul. Also, rest assured that Jeongguk is already legal in this fic. Lastly, both characters are 90% sober when the sexual activity comes into play, fret not.




Cold logic told Jeongguk that the most sensible thing to do right now was to just grab his coat and leave. Two in the morning with too many liters of alcohol sloshing around in his brain had never been a bad thing since he started drinking, ever since he entered university and started allowing himself to get dragged into parties, curse Taehyung and Jimin for being the worst possible roommates, but right now the pulse in his temples was throbbing too strongly and his knees felt a bit too weak. His stomach kept tossing and turning and lurching in several different different directions. His palms were sweaty and this throat felt too damn tight. And the heat pooling in his groin wouldn't ease even if it had already been some four, five minutes since he'd decided to break away from whatever silly dance it was that he found himself caught in with Namjoon, even if it had already been so long since he decided to save himself and push himself away from Namjoon before he could do strange, strange things with his hands.

Jeongguk scoffed. There had to be some rule against older brothers being friends with hot men whose brains made them ten times even more attractive. There had to be some law that–that could protect Jeongguk from the dangerous man that Namjoon was. There had to be something in the books about dealing with this.

This being the pounding in his chest as he recalled, all too vividly, the way he'd danced without a care in the world earlier and suddenly felt someone's hands – someone's warm, familiar hands – steadying his hips, keeping him from losing balance and falling to the ground. This being the realization, as he looked over his shoulder when he felt a thundering pulse on his skin, that Namjoon smelled nice right after a bath, the scent of Jeongguk's shampoo thick in his hair, but even more with his chest pressed to Jeongguk's back and his arms around Jeongguk's waist and a sheen of spit and alcohol swiped across his lower lip. "You're drunk. Let's get you home. I'll just call a cab and drop you off at your place," Namjoon had whispered then, voice cracking a little as Jeongguk shifted, but all that registered to Jeongguk was Namjoon's lips pressed to the shell of his ear and the way Namjoon kept tightening and loosening his grip, like he felt Jeongguk would and could break if he held him too much or too little. "Hey, hey–Hey, stop moving around. You'll get even dizzier and I swear to God, your brother will kill me if he finds out you've been drinking this much and I didn't try to stop you–"

Jeongguk had turned around then, facing Namjoon in earnest, and shit. Wrong move. It's the fucking alcohol screwing with Jeongguk's brain and not the nearness of Namjoon. It was the fucking tequila that Taehyung made him drink wrapping around his limbs and controlling every inch of his body that it could reach. With the even thinner distance and the last dregs of light filtering right between them, catching on the bridge of Namjoon's nose before settling on the jut of his upper lip, Jeongguk could... see better now – the hair that had matted to Namjoon's forehead and the beads of sweat trickling along the shape of curve of his cheeks, the unsteady rise and fall of Namjoon's chest, the way Namjoon's lower lip had quivered even after he'd bitten down on it hard enough to bruise. The way Namjoon had let his gaze flicker dangerously south before looking up to meet Jeongguk in the eye to say, "Jeongguk, let's go–"

"He doesn't have to know," Jeongguk had muttered all in one breath, then cleared his throat in an attempt to ease the tightness in his chest. "Hyung–doesn't have to know–" But then Namjoon had kept tightening his hold on him, kept pulling him even closer until their chests were almost, almost, almost pressed flushed against each other. And he could breathe Namjoon in if he wanted to, could tiptoe just a little and maybe, accidentally-on-purpose, lean in until he could taste whatever it was that Namjoon last had to take a shot of, but–

Stop. Stop. Your brother's going to kill you if he so much as– Clued in on Jeongguk's 'teeny tiny teenage crush' on his best friend blooming into the insane desire to kiss Namjoon senseless and slip a leg between Namjoon's thighs and roll his hips until he could feel Namjoon growing hot and heavy against his leg? Discovered that his brother may or may have not had vivid dreams of Namjoon curling up with Jeongguk in bed after teaching him Math, English, Science, how to jerk himself off in the best way possible and maybe even finger himself while someone was watching? Found out that Jeongguk looked forward to Study Saturdays only because it was Namjoon tutoring him on topics he'd otherwise find impossible to understand, and because Namjoon always promised to reward him for a job well done?

Jeongguk laughed to himself and curled his hands into tight fists. All those dreams were supposed to remain that way – secret fantasies, thoughts he was to contain in his crazy mind. He'd already slept in the same bed as Namjoon when he was much younger, but the whole time Namjoon kept his arms wrapped around a bolster. Namjoon might have touched Jeongguk a bit too fondly already, too many times, but the closest Jeongguk had gotten to Namjoon touching him was Namjoon rubbing slow circles on his knee, the cold pads of his fingers grazing Jeongguk's inner thigh, just a hitch of the breath away from brushing against Jeongguk's dick.

Namjoon didn't–wouldn't ever touch him, Jeongguk knew that, was well aware of that even if it pained him, and in the same vein he wasn't allowed to reach out for more than Namjoon's hand. But then nobody ever said he couldn't take a deep, shaky breath, slip his hand beneath the band of his pants, and shut his eyes as he touched himself–

–imagining it was Namjoon touching him, instead.

"Jeongguk," Namjoon had croaked out minutes ago, the name rolling off of his tongue in a voice just barely above a whisper, then he was heaving a sigh, shaking his head, dropping his hands to his sides. Part of Jeongguk wanted to ask why – why Namjoon had to let go, put space between them, inch away – but his mind kept going back to the one truth that kept him up on his feet: Namjoon's gaze flickering, always flickering south, to the gentle swell of Jeongguk's lips, and the quick rise and fall of his shoulders as he said, "Alright, alright. Just– Just don't drink anything until you sober up, okay? Or else I'll kick your ass and drag you out of this party and–"

"Dance with me," Jeongguk had murmured and bit the inside of his cheek. Slowly, he had reached out and grabbed Namjoon's hands, grip just loose enough that Namjoon could shake him off if Namjoon wanted to, but just tight enough to let Namjoon know that he was wanted. "I mean, it's– It's the easiest way to sweat out the booze, and–"

"You're too–" Namjoon had shaken his head. Two beats, then he was laughing, smiling, the corners of his mouth pulled up into one of those hard-to-read smiles that Jeongguk had already spent too many nights trying to crack. If the pulse in Namjoon's palms was a code he could decipher then Jeongguk would easily say we don't have to be 'too anything' for this, but if Namjoon ever wanted a touch less impersonal than a pat on a back of a nudge in his side, then he would ask. Namjoon would say something and ask and he'd tell Jeongguk exactly what he wanted–needed. "I'm too sober for this."

So am I, Jeongguk murmured to himself now as he hastily unfastened the buckle of his belt. He'd worn one to make sure his pants wouldn't slip off while he danced the night away and tried to forget why he even agreed to go to Taehyung's part, but now he was regretting it. Earlier, too, while he and Namjoon were dancing and they were so impossibly close and he could feel the pattering pulse in Namjoon's palms on his hips, while he braved the distance and inched even closer – close enough that he could hear Namjoon's breath hitching through the noise, close enough that he could feel Namjoon's thighs quivering, close enough that he could feel the heat in Namjoon's crotch when he accidentally brushed his knee against Namjoon's inner thigh–

"Fuck–" His hands shook, fingers trembling as the belt slipped from his grasp. He palmed himself through his jeans, just a few quick strokes to ease the burn between his legs, one hand still busy with undoing the buttons of his pants. Maybe, if he and Namjoon had a few more shots of tequila, if they were in a party where they didn't know at least a third of the population and if Jeongguk hadn't seen Taehyung and Jimin watching them out a corner of his eye, he'd have tried to get even closer, but, No, Joon-hyung wouldn't like that. He–He doesn't fuck people on a whim, doesn't fool around with younger people, doesn't even like it when he finds me shirtless in the dorm–

"Put something on. It's freezing in here," Jeongguk could recall Namjoon grumbling one time, one of those days during finals week, when he came over to visit and check if Jeongguk was still alive. Your brother's orders. He'll kill me if I don't get back to him with an actual report or something, that asshole. And he could remember all too well the way Namjoon's gaze flickered across the expanse of his chest, trailed the length of his torso, before Namjoon looked back up to narrow his eyes in reprimand. "Shit, don't tell me you haven't done your laundry– Kid, you're even worse than me! I don't know if I should be happy or what–"

You should stop looking at me like you might actually want me, too – that's what you should do. "Mission accomplished. I try to be better than you at most things." Jeongguk had stretched his arms up, then back, and pulled the pillow closest to him to his chest when he caught Namjoon twisting his mouth. No longer cold and a lot less exposed, he should feel a bit more comfortable with the soft pillow pressed to his chest, but Namjoon had made it difficult to feel anything but too warm, too vulnerable. "So yeah, I guess you should be proud of me for that. This is why I'm your favorite, right, hyung?"

Namjoon hadn't uttered a word then, but he did laugh. Did heave a sigh and snort and shake his head a little. "I'm not the best example when it comes to a lot of things," he had muttered after a while, but Jeongguk could have been imagining things then. He hadn't had a decent meal since the start of exam week. The most rest he'd gotten was five hours, give or take, the past three days. And Namjoon had already pulled away from the conversation, waving over his shoulder as he called out, "I'll be back with food. You better be clean and clothed by then."

"You're getting ice cream, too, right?"

Namjoon had scoffed. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. You're lucky you're cute."

Jeongguk had grinned then, but there was no mistaking the quiver of his lips as the pounding in his chest grew faster, louder. "I'm lucky I'm your favorite!"

Stops there, though, mumbled a voice in his mind as he ran him palm along the length of his dick. The first touch was hot, electric; the second, when he rubbed slow circles on the tip of his cock and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to image longer, more slender fingers grazing the side of his dick, stroking him through his underwear, made his knees shake and shiver. He'll never– You'll always be the kid who made cardboard rockets with him, just that, taunted the same voice, but whatever; it wasn't as if it could stop him from thinking it was Namjoon pumping him and not his very own hands doing all the work. Stop wanting things you can't have, Jeon, just stop–

"Have you seen him?" came a familiar voice, muffled only by the distance and not by the loud music on the other side of the door. Jeongguk grit his teeth, trying to bite down a gasp, but in the end his breath hitched and his chest grew even tighter. If the walls in the bathroom were a tad thicker, if he was too damn lost in lust already and too caught up in the slide of his dick against his palm, he probably wouldn't have heard, but he hadn't spent years memorizing every single sound that spilled from Namjoon's lips, looping in his head every hitch of Namjoon's breath and every single quirk of his lips, to not be able to hear this sound above the noise.

Namjoon's voice was the static that lulled him to sleep, and the noise that stirred his senses, startled him awake. Namjoon was the only one who could breathe a twisted sort of clam into his life and work him up at the same damned time.

"Wha– No? I'm pretty sure–" Pretty sure you shouldn't be this sober to go looking for me. Go away and drink some more and we'll find each other, hyung. I'm sure we will– "Pretty sure I saw him walk inside–"

The sound of the door creaking open made Jeongguk stop and shiver all over. It had been mostly quiet earlier, the only thing breaking the thick silence his heavy, uneven breathing, but now he could hear tentative footsteps, beats spaced out. He should probably pull up his pants now, should probably buckle his belt again and greet Namjoon with the sleepiest smile he could muster so he could feign innocence and run back to his dorm to continue where he'd left off, but goddammit, the slide of his palm against his dick felt too damn good. And there was something about knowing it was Namjoon – probably Namjoon – on the other side of the door surveying the area, checking the cubicles, looking for him that urged Jeongguk to give his cock a few more pumps, to grip his dick harder. To run his thumb along the vein of his shaft as Namjoon called out, "Jeon– Jeongguk? Are you here?"

I am, but you shouldn't be. Jeongguk shook his head, pushing the though further back, and fondled with his balls. Ran a hand up his chest and rolled one of nipples between his thumb and index finger. Namjoon had heavy hands and terribly uncoordinated limbs, but his touch had always been soft and gentle. And Namjoon would probably be the same if he stroked Jeongguk's balls with cold, trembling fingers, if he tried to slowly work Jeongguk up with the easy pumping of his hand, if he caught one of Jeongguk's nipples between his teeth before giving it a tentative lick, a soft nip.

Jeongguk made a small noise at the back of his throat, lips parting and jaw clenching as he stroked himself faster, harder. He shouldn't make a sound, shouldn't even be breathing too loudly and too hard, knowing it was Namjoon walking from one end of the bathroom to another, inching even closer to him, but– "I know you're in here. I saw you get inside. And I can't be mistaken because you snatched my jacket from me earlier because you were cold and now it's–it's out here."

Shit. "Shit." Shit, he forgot about that. 'Slipped his mind that he might have dropped it to the floor earlier before getting into one of the cubicles and freeing himself of the belt. He flicked his thumb over his nipple and tried to steady his grip on his dick, but found himself rolling his hips on sheer impulse and the desire to feel more. Fuck, hyung, don't come any closer–

"I'm–I'm not saying I'll kick you for just leaving a leather jacket here, but–"

But Namjoon had looked so painfully good in it and Jeongguk had to do something, had to take matters into his own hands. But Jeongguk had made another big mistake in deciding to do so because Namjoon looked even better, all the more fucking attractive in just a black v-neck shirt and those atrocious, tattered jeans of his. And that choker, that goddamned choker–

The choker you wanted to rip off with you teeth before sucking marks on his neck, right, teased a voice in Jeongguk's mind, and fuck, he couldn't even say 'no' to that. He wanted to back Namjoon up against a wall and pepper Namjoon's skin with little sucks and bites and marks that would sting for hours. He wanted Namjoon, wanted Namjoon to know that he was the same kid he'd spent nearly his entire life with, but at the same time Jeongguk wasn't a kid anymore. He wanted Namjoon to realize that that day Jeongguk had gotten all suited up for prom and Namjoon wore the silliest grin on his lips as he said, "You look really good. Too good. I can't believe– I can't believe you," the nervous laughter Jeongguk let out in response meant, Go to prom with me, hyung? I'll give you chocolates and flowers and make sure you have a great night and listen to you geek out about anything and everything and–

He wanted to tell Namjoon that yes, he was here, and that Namjoon was here, and that if they wanted anything to happen at all then this was the perfect time to do something.

"I'll–" Feel a lot better if you could step out now and leave because I know you won't touch me, anyway, Jeongguk was tempted to say, but the alcohol in his veins was fast dissipating and his dick was so, so painfully hard against his hand. He ran his hand along the length of his cock, then, gave it a few pumps, and swallowed hard as he drew slow circles on the tip with his thumb. "I'll be out in a bit. I just– Just wait for me outside, hyung. I–"

"Oh, fuck you. I was scared shitless. I thought you'd actually left already–" The footsteps hastened, growing louder with each passing second. Then Namjoon was laughing and coughing in intervals, voice bright even if Jeongguk was sure Namjoon had already had too much to drink. Namjoon wasn't allowed to sound this good so deep into the night, after too many shots of tequila. It was unfair. "Or maybe someone'd picked you up or something, I dunno. Just– Just come out here and I'll take you home so you can throw up–"

Namjoon's breath hitched. Or at least that was how it sounded for Jeongguk, because it was nigh impossible to hear anything at all through his heavy breathing, though the thundering pulse at the back of his ears, through the little whining noises in his head that kept urging, urging, urging him to jerk himself off faster. Part of him wanted to ask why Namjoon stopped, wanted to tell Namjoon to keep going because boy, did Namjoon sound really, really good with his voice rough and thick with alcohol and fatigue and something else, but another part of him just wanted to make Namjoon leave, tell him to go, drive him away. Make it easier for himself to wrap his mind around the reality that Namjoon probably wasn't going to volunteer to drop to his knees and wrap his spit-slick lips around Jeongguk's cock just because they'd danced so dangerously close earlier and Namjoon whispered in his ear just before their bodies fell into a nice, snug fit, "Off the record, but you look really good tonight."

"Just tonight?" Jeongguk had scoffed then, had even shaken his head, but still inched even closer until he could press his mouth to the slope of Namjoon's neck. He could have placed gentle nips on Namjoon's skin already, if he wanted to, but if he wants anything from you, he'll ask. Namjoon always asks nicely and is clear with his intentions so if he says nothing, then– "C'mon, hyung, you said I look 'cute' all the time–"

Namjoon had snorted, but soon he was shivering as Jeongguk breathed out against his skin. "No, not 'cute'. Not 'cute' this time," he had whispered right back, then he was curling his fingers into tight fists again, this time in Jeongguk's shirt. "I mean, you look really good tonight–"

"Oh," came Namjoon's voice now, soft and faint and wavering even in the silence of the bathroom. Only then did Jeongguk realize that Namjoon was close now, too close, that the only thing separating them was the same slab of wood he had himself pressed against, and that somewhere between undoing his pants and stroking himself to the thought of Namjoon stroking him, he'd moved around too much, been careful too little. Kicked the belt he was wearing earlier somewhere Namjoon could see, and given himself away. "Okay, I'll just– Sorry, I'll leave now–"

Great. Just leave. Let me be. But something in Namjoon's words felt Jeongguk feeling oddly bereft, chest too tight yet incredibly hollow. There was something about the way Namjoon's voice thinned into a choke that made a consuming heat claw at his insides and made them lurch. And there was something about the way Namjoon lingered instead of leaving, like he'd promised, that made Jeongguk wonder–

"Jesus– Hyung, it's– It's not what you think–" Jeongguk grit out. On any other day, he would laugh, would probably even chortle until he was wheezing, but his mouth tasted like metal and blood and acid and he could hear the light scrape of something against the wood. Maybe it was Namjoon's jacket catching on the surface as he slipped into that sinful leather garment again, or him just making things up in his head before thrusting himself in the direction of reality once and for all, but damn if he didn't know the sound of nails grazing solid wood. Damn if he hadn't played this out in his head at least a hundred times already, imagining Namjoon pressed against the wall, eyes locked onto Jeongguk's own as he urged Jeongguk to ram into him faster, harder. "There's nobody else–"

I'd rather be sharing a cubicle with, he had half the mind to say, but soon his words were dissolving into silence. The only thing he could hear now was faint rustling, Namjoon's light laughter, the soft crackling of the lights up above. The music and the noise in the distance, beyond the walls of the room, the same beat he and Namjoon had danced to earlier.

And then three careful steps that were neither louder nor fainter than before when, in fact, Namjoon should have–even when Namjoon had promised to show himself out minutes ago.

"–in there. No one else in there," came Namjoon's voice after a while, shattering the silence, making Jeongguk shiver. Jeongguk could have sworn he heard a dull thud, but it was difficult to think of anything at all when he was all too aware of how loud Namjoon's voice was, how close they were, how he could be asking Namjoon to move over to the other side but didn't, couldn't, shouldn't. "You're alone."

Jeongguk gulped hard, squeezed his eyes shut, nodded blindly as he gripped the band of his pants. Yeah, he was hoping to say, hoping he could drive Namjoon away because the strain between his legs was far too hard to ignore already, but–

"It's just you and me here," Namjoon whispered, groaned, breathed out. Two beats, then slowly now, like it was taking Namjoon every ounce of his energy to say it, "It's just the two of us in here."

Jeongguk laughed. Thank you for making it obvious, but fuck you, hyung, he would retort, would groan out if he could, but his throat felt too tight and dry and–and– He couldn't even feel his tongue. He could feel the thundering pulse at the base of his throat, though, the wild thumping in his chest, the light chatter of his teeth, but other than that, nothing. He wanted to fucking swing the door open, tell Namjoon off, maybe run away, but he was much too stunned by Namjoon's words, pinned in place and paralyzed by the mere thought of Namjoon still being–choosing to be there.

"Mhmm," Jeongguk hummed, then took a deep, shaky breath. He curled his fingers into tight fists, hoping his nails digging into his skin would help him thaw out, but to no avail – it was taking too damn long for his body to catch up, to recalibrate. And it was taking Namjoon too damn long to realize he was supposed to be heading out and rejoining the rest of the group instead of listening to Jeongguk breathe on the other side of the door. "Hyung, I'll be fine–"

"Do you–Do you need help?"

Fuck. Jeongguk grit his teeth and shook his head. Part of him, a larger part of him, wanted to nod in approval, wanted to say 'yes', he would appreciate it, I knew I could count on you to be willing to lend a hand, hyung. You're the best. This is why you're my favorite, but then another part of him kept screaming no, the moment he unlocked the door and Namjoon slipped inside the cubicle with him, everything would change. They'd both had something to drink and while there was more lust than liquor in Jeongguk's system right now, he knew his lips and limbs were too loose and logic was nowhere in sight. And the last thing he wanted was to dive dick-first into a golden opportunity that would soon turn into stone if he made the slightest mistake.

He didn't want to screw with Namjoon.

He didn't want to screw this up.

"You don't have to– I don't have to be there," Namjoon rushed, syllables stumbling from his lips one after another, and fuck. Jeongguk's chest clenched, tightened. Namjoon, who was almost always certain of his words, who had the perfect response to every single thing, was struggling with his speech, finding it difficult to string together the right words that would get whatever it was running through his head across. Namjoon, the same Namjoon who made it so much easier for him to understand English and every other language all these years, including the slightest quirk of his lips, was having a hard time enunciating his thoughts. "I'll– I'll stay right here and you stay right there and we can... talk things out–"

"Hyung–" Jeongguk scoffed. If Namjoon thought he was some pure, immaculate kid who knew nothing about pleasuring oneself then ooh, boy, was Namjoon mistaken. He was sorely mistaken. So Jeongguk licked his lips, shook his head, and added, "People my age know how to jack off. It's not– It's not exactly the most foreign thing–"

"Yeah, of course, but–" But, in your eyes, I'm still a kid who knows nothing about pleasuring myself? Jeongguk was prepared to fend Namjoon off with laughter, with another request to please, please just leave him alone and wait for him on the other side of the wall, I'll be out in a bit. Just give me a few minutes, but soon Namjoon was speaking up again, clearing his throat, saying, "But sometimes it's easier with... visuals."

Visuals meaning Namjoon speaking low, in a voice Jeongguk had never heard before and probably wouldn't hear if it hadn't been quiet all around them, the silence cracked only by the occasional hitch of the breath or a heavy exhalation. Visuals meaning Namjoon carefully, carefully guiding him through some meticulous process of curling his fingers around his dick and gripping it tightly, then slowly pumping himself as the thundering pulse on his palm drummed beats on his exposed skin. Visuals meaning Namjoon pressing even closer, close enough for his voice to be muffled by the wood, but just enough for Jeongguk to hear him even more clearly as he whispers, "Press your thumb along the vein – that's right, just there – and slowly drag you thumb all the way down as you–"

As I fuck into your hand and look at you straight in the eye, as I dig my nails into your skin and roll my hips because god-fucking-dammit, we're not supposed to be doing this, not now, not ever, but I fucking want this–

"As I palm–" Jeongguk let out a low groan at the prickling heat pooling in his abdomen, shooting up to his chest and making it constrict. "As I palm my balls–" It was beginning to get even more impossible to concentrate on anything but the gentle curl of Namjoon's humming around the base of his nape, on anything but the way Namjoon kept alternating between stifling low grunts and urging him to go on, but he was so, so close already. His thighs were shaking and his hands were trembling and he was running out of breath, losing grip, losing control. So he gulped down hard, tried to ease the tightness in his throat, and continued, "–Exactly the way you want me to–"

"Slow circles–"

"Torturously slow circles–"

Namjoon laughed, but there was no mistaking his heavy breathing and the little gasp that escaped his lips. "Yeah, too damn slow that you'll want to buck your hips into your hand already–" he groaned out, voice lilting somewhere along the way, choking on his words, wavering, then–

Then Namjoon's voice was trailing off into a whimper, into a faint moan that that made a sizzle of heat roll down Jeongguk's spine;
Then Jeongguk was going even faster, pumping himself harder, playing Namjoon's words in his head again and again and again until he was hearing nothing else but the hitch in Namjoon's breath;
Then Namjoon was heaving a sigh, letting out a loud exhale, whispering where they were both pressed so close, "Do it–"

Then Jeongguk was coming all over his knuckles, breath coming out in little gasps, his release spilling all over his fist. His palms were sweaty and his knees felt weak and he knew his legs were going to give out any minute now, but–

Shit, shit, shit, he whispered to himself, and squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't tune out Namjoon's voice in his head, telling him he was doing well, go on, go on.

He couldn't stop listening to Namjoon's heavy breathing on the other side of the door.

He couldn't stop thinking of how his name slipped from Namjoon's lips right between that last hitch of the breath and that faint, faint gasp, just before Namjoon reached his climax.

Just before Namjoon asked him to let go, to come, to do it, do it, do it for me.




Thanks for letting me play! You're up, Bunny thesockmonster! :D
Also tagging bluedreaming for... tagging matters? o.o
Tags: *team five, fandom: bts, love ranger: onyu
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