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Oh, face not an idol

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Namjoon is kinda proud of the scene playing out right in front of him.

Even in the dim-lit room he can clearly see the way Yoongi is sprawled onto the bed, hands clasped on the sheets, a leg hooked on his shoulder – and, most importantly, filled to the brim with Namjoon’s whole length after a long, tiring day. Plus, he’s begging. Yoongi’s voice is so utterly feverish with desire, says more Namjoon-a, says harder Namjoon-a, says take me in every way you can through gritted teeth and Namjoon is a wreck just as much as him.

So, Namjoon obliges. He sways forward, folds quick and easy and pure instinct until they’re pressed together, Yoongi’s thigh stretched under him as pain brings a soft whimper to his lips, foreheads almost touching, and in this way he can lift Yoongi’s hips up off the bed to get his hand underneath him, get a hold of Yoongi’s ass as he fucks into him relentlessly.

“They don’t know what they’re talking about,” Namjoon mutters between thrusts, and watches Yoongi struggle to meet his eyes, surely overwhelmed by how close they are, how easily he could taste Namjoon’s sweat by simply poking his tongue out and dragging it along the sharp edges of his jaw.

“You’re the prettiest just like this,” Namjoon pipes up again, just to push it, just to be a little shit for a quick moment because riled up Yoongi is fun. Riled up Yoongi is hot as fuck, and because Namjoon can read him the best, frustration is already crossing Yoongi’s face – makes him bare his teeth, rage still fresh and seething underneath his skin.

Because they’ve all had a photoshoot this evening and the two of them along with Hobi had to be there the longest, changing clothes every half hour, makeup smudged and redone a hundred thousand times, trying all sort of strange angles and hand movements to see which ones would suit them best for the flash, until they were exhausted and restless and wanted nothing more than to disappear. And, of course, the staff scolded them like they were a bunch of kids, because why wouldn’t they just stay still and let them paint their faces prettier, because why aren’t they like V-ssi or Jin-ssi, who of course were done with this shit in half an hour, not a problem with how they stare at the camera, deep gazes and plump lips, not a problem at all, just so right, just so perfect.

And it’s nothing new, they’ve gotten used to it. They’re all in a place where they can acknowledge that they’re pretty hot, the rapline just takes a lot more time in things like these because it seems like they’re never gonna score perfect, because their faces have never really been fitting for an idol, for someone who’s supposed to look good and confident almost always – they know it’s harder for them but the older they get, the better at it they are.

But there’s days like this one when it just plain hurts. No, it doesn’t hurt, but there’s just so much stress with the comeback and how they’re still managing to learn the choreo, their schedule so packed they haven’t been able to get proper sleep in what seems like a whole week and- it’s just too much. Brings back haunting memories of their past, of their debut days when everything was harder and the comments under their videos, the judgement their underground friends spit at them, even the reviews they got from reporters were just plain mean, too fucking personal and almost unbearable – and all over the place. They just stuck with you for days, left you wondering over every inch of your body, every expression made on stage.

And Namjoon still remembers how they mocked him – how they mocked Yoongi and Hoseok too, for having a face that’s too sharp, eyes too narrow and bodies too lanky, for being not good enough, not hot enough, too rough, too ugly. Unfitted. Never gonna be an idol. Never gonna reach the top. Should’ve just stayed put. Give up.

So they had worked hard – like for everything else. It was just a matter of learning how to best style your hair, to sit and watch the makeup being done a few thousand times and figure out what looks good, how to enhance their own qualities – Namjoon’s dragon eyes, Hoseok’s heart-shaped lips, Yoongi’s round cheeks.

But that day, the uneasiness had creeped up on their skin, making them feel small all over again. Like they were just rookies and not Korea’s undoubted pride. Like they had to make them change, make them prettier for the fans, because they’re never going to be good enough, no matter how many glitters they have on their eyelids or how red is their lipstick, how pricey the stuff they’re wearing, they’re always going to be unfitted in a world that’s asking so much from them and that’s leaving them bare, stripping them from all the good they had found within themselves in all these years of self-deprecating thoughts.

And they’re sick of waiting hours to put on façades that are never going to suit them, after all.

Yoongi had snapped – all of them had, but Yoongi had left the room exhausted and pissed, the door closing with a loud thud as he was heading out.

But now he’s right here, under Namjoon’s body, and he looks so pliable, putty in Namjoon’s hands: Yoongi’s flushed, the pink reaching down across his chest, fingers digging in harder around Namjoon’s nape, in a mild attempt at pressing them closer, closer again.

“Not pretty,” says Yoongi, eyes closed and eyebrows dipped together like he’s in pain. “Never pretty– love it like this, can be ugly with you,” and smirks, Yoongi just straight up smirks under Namjoon’s thrusts and that’s such a good look on him, pretty much every look is a good one on Yoongi but confidence because Namjoon’s fucking him so good is for sure a special one.

“Liar”, pants Namjoon, pulls back, pulls out a little and then pushes back in, and Yoongi whimpers shamelessly. He starts up a slow, steady set of thrusts and Yoongi moves back in into it, moves with him, meets him in the middle everytime.

And that’s the Yoongi he likes best, raw and unraveled, coming undone with the desire to take and take and take, messy and covered in come, the harsh scent of sweat and sex longing on their skin, filling the air between them. And no one else will ever get to know what is like to fuck Yoongi senseless, and how stunning he is, just like this, no makeup, no styled hair, naked and exposed – only for Namjoon to see.

“Liar,” Namjoon says again, “you’re beautiful.”

Yoongi smiles between moans, and Namjoon is done for.