JUST LIKE HEAVEN / BTS.

we'll take the highway to heaven.

we'll take the
highway to heaven.

TAGS: namgi / mild nsfw / makeout session / thigh fixation?? i think YES / hickies / compliments uwu / namjoon's a blushy angel / short shot.
PLAYLIST: nfwmb / hozier, good old fashioned lover boy / queen, alrighty aphrodite / peach pit, highway to heaven / nct127

NOTES: this is completely ann's [ helladick ] idea, the prompt/idea is in the media!!

( 🥀 )

   THE EVENING AIR is cool, sweet, a love song drifting through the room. the lights in the lovers' apartment are dimmed, a golden glow illuminating their faces as they lay together, lips entwined. it's a starry night, a warm summer night scented with orchid and seawater candles—just like heaven.

they move together like dancers, they do it naturally, their peony and primrose lips pressed together, lapping at each other with soft tongues. it's sloppy, yet full of something more meaningful that a kiss between strangers. they kiss like real people do, like lovers do—ferocious, at that first stage of love where you want nothing more than to devour eachother, to melt eachother down to your bones, to draw blood with your lips.

yoongi takes the lead, his ebony black hair glinting in the candlelight, straddling his boyfriend with his ivory shirt sliding off his shoulders, revealing tattooed collarbones with explosions of constellations marked in ink covering his marbled skin. he runs his hands over namjoon, his body memorised like a map, his fingers coming to rest in namjoon's hair, tugging gently at the blonde strands. they're day and night, ebony and ivory—sun and moon.

namjoon's breath is heavy when their lips disconnect, panting with his lips swollen and heady, as red as rose petals, his mind addled with emotions he cannot name. his gentle fingertips trace yoongi's waist with patterns, and it won't be til later that yoongi realises he wrote i love you.

it's been nine years. eighteen, the year of prom queen and dying teenage dreams, they met under moonlight at a party with booze and drugs and all sorts, in clothing so scarce it could barely be called that. they've nestled their way into each other's chests and found a home between their ribs beside their hearts. some may call them soulmates. yoongi likes to believe that.

yoongi's lips trail down namjoon's jawline and throat, kissing delicately, taking his dear time whilst namjoon shivers beneath his touch. nine years, six of friends and three of lovers, and being in love with your best friend is euphorically dizzying. yoongi knows how namjoon works, knows where to press his fingers to make him a quivering melting mess, knows where to kiss to make him whine and shiver—knows him better than he knows himself.

"beautiful," he whispers gently, placing kisses on namjoon's adam's apple, biting the skin with the tip of his teeth and smiling at the soft whine namjoon lets out. he revels in the honeyed and dulcet noises he can make escape his lover's lips, proud that he knows how to wreck his composure.

kim namjoon, a supposedly shy barista at a local coffee shop, adorned in bright shades and large hoodies—no one would guess how he loses his abashed look once yoongi's got him on their red silken sheets. yoongi laces their hands together and sucks a lovebite onto the skin below his ear, revelling in the warmth of namjoon's body, the warm spring nights making them both golden.

yoongi rests his head on namjoon's clothed chest, his loose pajama top made of thin material, yoongi's cheek still feeling his warmth. he can hear namjoon's heartbeat, hear him breathe, two of their hands intertwined, fingers interlaced like a complicated knot. yoongi allows himself a moment to close his eyes and soak in the moment, soft r&b accompanying namjoon's heartbeat, all of it so peaceful.