#—Preferably try to avoid escalating the chaos. Or… you could purposely do so. I can work with both. :) )

[robloxiansurvivors]

~ A strange, hooded woman walks nearby and sees the group. She rushes over ~ " Do you poor souls need any help? " - totally not a @cult-of-spawn member in disguise!! /sarc

⚠️TW: Mention of blood, but no murder… In this reblog, at least. (Maybe be careful of Two Time! hehe)

A bit before the woman approached, Elliot and Two Time had been having quite the aggressive back-and-forth. Elliot was trying to get Two Time to drop the bloodied Darkheart, while Noob and Chance stood at a distance—with Noob slightly-behind Chance. Looking very anxious.

“ Do you poor souls need any help? ”

…Upon approaching, the Woman sensed a very dark energy emanating from both the Sword, and Two Time. With a more mild-amount of a similar energy from Elliot.

“Go away! This is NONE of your business.” Elliot snapped at her! Yikes. It sure is quite the tense-scene we’ve got here.

Two Time just stares at the woman. An unsettling smile on their face, and a… Not-so-hinged look in their eyes. Doesn’t help that the glint of blood on the sword is quite threatening.

[spectrumed]

9. conversation

(I wrote this after having a few drinks, so I apologise for the occasional digression.)

One time, some years ago, I was at medborgarplatsen in Stockholm. I was about to watch a movie at the cinema there, Filmstaden Söder. I can’t remember the movie, but this was at a time I wanted to prove my worth as a cinephile, so it wasn’t a blockbuster. For those of you who don’t know the way around Stockholm, medborgarplatsen is a square that is pretty close to the heart of the city, some may even argue that it is the heart of the city (though, I wouldn’t.) The name translates to “the citizen’s place,” an example of Swedes’ general commitment to all things egalitarian. Though, nowadays, most citizens can only dream of living in a place as central as medborgarplatsen. Södermalm, the borough in which medborgarplatsen is located, used to be known as quite the working class slum. Though, like with most global cities these days, things have changed. I don’t much like to complain about gentrification, I think it has more to do with governments’ reluctance to build new apartments, preferring instead to stick their heads in the sand and pretend as if population numbers aren’t increasing. Like, sure, I am not asking you to tear down all those old buildings to build new ones that’ll have enough room for more people, all I am asking is for you to expand, build more homes near the city and develop the right kind of infrastructure and public transport that allows for people to not need a car to get around. Cities are supposed to be lived in, they are not history museums! It drives me nuts, all these NIMBYs and their incessant whining and complaining about basic and inevitable societal progress. GAH! JUST BUILD MORE GODDAMMIT!

… I am sorry, I think I happened upon a tangent here divorced from the actual topic I wish to discuss. In any case, I was about to watch a movie at the cinema, and I had an hour or so to spend before it started. I was around people. Naturally, I was uncomfortable. People, you never know what they’re up to. They could be spying on you. They could be recording you. Or worse, they could be entirely indifferent to your presence. It is scary how others treat you, or how they refuse to treat you. It is easier not to be around people. Or well, be around people on the internet. That way you can get some social interaction, without having to be physically present. Being face-to-face with a person, that can go either one of two ways. Either you find a familiar soul, someone you can relate to. Someone you can love. Someone you could imagine spending your life with. Or you find someone that makes you feel icky, someone who makes you want to jump off a cliff. And it is difficult to find a cliff when you’re standing in the middle of a city, at a public square. Not many cliffs are to be found in the middle of cities. You’ve likely experienced the sensation of finding yourself in an uncomfortable situation, one you wish you could escape from, yet knowing that you are stuck. The icy feeling overtaking you. The dread. The profound desire to just do whatever you can to convince whoever is pressuring you to go away and leave you alone. Even if that means paying them money.

A person came up to me looking for charitable donations. Now, I am not a rich man. I certainly don’t spend all day long biddy biddy bum. I am not a wealthy man with a wife looking like a rich man’s wife with a proper double-chin, supervising meals to her heart’s delight. I wish I could give more to charity, but I can’t. I feel very uncertain about my future. I fear for my economic prospects. Don’t ask me for money, I don’t have any to give. There are plenty of filthy rich people in this world, ask them for their charitable donations. Many of them don’t even pay taxes. Surely, they have lots of cash. They stay in their penthouses, worshipping Mammon, and they certainly don't go down any citizens’ squares. What kind of money do you expect to receive from bothering a person like me? I don’t look rich. Or maybe I do. Someone might look at me and think I’m one of those rich kinds of nerds, an internet wiz kid, a programmer who made some website that’s now really famous. In any case, I am not. I am just a lost and confused sheep yearning for a shepherd to guide me.

The person showed me a series of photographs of women being victimised. Some tortured, some beaten up, some exploited. Pakistani women. The person was raising money to help Pakistani women. A noble mission, certainly. What was I supposed to say? Was I supposed to say that “no, I don’t care about Pakistani women” and just walk away? I didn't want the person to think of me as some callous western chauvinist who isn’t willing to spend some of my money to make a real change. I do care. I care very deeply. But, well, I just don’t really have money. Not in that way. Not in a way that can make a difference. Still, if you’ve got a truly burning sense of justice, a desire to see things wrong get fixed, see the righteous win, then you will want any kind of cash donation you can get. I sympathise. I understand that the person showing me the photographs may not have cared to figure out whether I had money or not. I clearly did not look starving (I am fat.) Surely I could afford to make a donation. Even the littlest bit counts. I needed to give. They needed me to give. Just give a little bit. C’mon. Don’t you care about Pakistani women?

I ummed and ahhed for a bit. I felt cautious, nervous, wondering how I could possibly explain my concern for these women while also recognising my lack of being able to really contribute monetarily to help them. Of course, at the moment, my cognitive functions weren’t properly functioning. No, I was stammering, I was overwhelmed, I was suffering a sensory overload. All these people around me, all this noise. I could have given the person asking me for a donation just some coins, a paltry sum, then pretended as if that was enough. But I didn’t. I gave him half of the money that I had on me. Not too much, but a significant amount of Swedish crowns. More than the cinema ticket cost me. Money I wasn’t prepared to spend at that moment. Still, it served the purpose. It made the world around me calm down. It lessened the storm. I don’t want to live in a world of chaos. I want things to be ordered. An ordered world can be understood, it can be categorised. Chaotic agents threaten the peace. Chaos makes me worry I might be exposed. I don’t want anyone knowing just how weird I am, just the kind of freak that I am. I want them to think I am normal. It’s easier to pretend to be normal when everything is calm, when people don’t freak me out.

One of the biggest social mistakes I’ve made is engaging in conversation with a person claiming to need money to take a bus to the dentist. They claimed that they had a dentist appointment, and in fact, it was paid for. They just didn’t have the money to pay for the bus. They needed me to give them just that little bit of money to buy a bus ticket. Simple, right? They were eager to convince me, so they began sticking their finger in their mouth, pointing at the tooth that needed to be pulled out. I told them that they didn’t need to show me, I believed them. But of course, I only said that because they made me feel uncomfortable. Did I believe them? Of course not. The person was clearly just looking for cash, a real scam artist, but I wasn’t socially adept enough to dismiss them. Sure, I can look back on it and think about this or that thing I should've said. Instead I just awkwardly mentioned needing to catch my own bus and that I didn’t have the time to talk. The scam artist followed me, continuing to engage me in conversation. I tried to appear sympathetic, I tried to appear normal, and the person took advantage of that. They needled me. They urged me to pay attention to them, making me feel like a monster if I didn’t. In the end I told them I would get them the money, but instead I ran and stepped on the bus heading back home to my place. They didn’t follow me. Of course they didn’t follow me. They didn’t have a bus ticket.

I came across them later, days later, at the subway. They saw me, tried to get my attention, but I ran into the crowd, hitting the escalator before they could get close. Later I saw them get accosted by security guards, clearly reprimanded for their behaviour, scamming people. Cornering people, telling them lies, then asking for cash. That’s not virtuous behaviour. Still, the security guards could only do so much. Did they stop the person from trying to scam people? Of course not. The person kept on badgering whoever paid them just the littlest bit of attention. Whoever looked kind. Whoever would be inclined towards making charitable donations. I had escaped that one time, but the person was adamant that they wanted me to give them the money they thought they deserved. Whenever I’d take the subway, they’d be there, trying to get my attention. And I kept running. I kept doing my best to avoid them. I felt like a real fool. Why couldn’t I just assert myself, pump up my chest and tell them that I was on to them? I knew the truth, I knew they were a fraud. Yet, I just wanted to avoid it all. I wanted to pretend as if I didn’t know them. That everything was just calm and peaceful, and there wasn’t a storm brewing somewhere nearby. This was everything about being surrounded by people that I hated. This, right here, was the ultimate reason I knew for wanting to become a hermit. Not having to put up with this kind of bullshit.

One time, the last time, the person came up to me, I couldn’t escape. I was waiting for the train. I was about to get to a lecture. The person saw me, and they stood right in front me. I was wearing headphones. I pretended I could not hear them. I pretended I could not even conceive of them, as if my mind were someplace else entirely. I pretended as if I had erased them from existence. They didn’t immediately catch on. They stood in front of me and they began commenting on my appearance. They decided, quite unusually, to congratulate me for my beard. Stating that I looked good with facial hair. Of course, I do. My beard looks amazing. I am not insecure about my beard. I may be insecure about my weight, I may be insecure about some things, but the two things I am not insecure about are my height (I’m 6’2”) and my beard. Still, I refused to acknowledge the scam artist’s existence. Other people waiting for the train were looking at us. They thought it was strange that I just stood there, looking straight ahead ignoring the person standing in front of me. But I did what I needed to do. The scam artist touched me, I still ignored them. Honestly, that is one of the most uncomfortable things I have ever experienced. Their hand on my chest. Them touching me. Still, I didn’t budge. Eventually, they gave up. They went away. I had won. I should’ve felt good about myself, I had come out on top. But I didn’t. I still felt awful. I had hurt their feelings. Why am I so weird, why am I so awkward? I really don’t know how to behave like a normal person.

I think I do better in long conversations with people than in short little chats. You can’t just get a quick impression of me and think you know me. One reason why I don’t think I could ever make for a good one-night stand. Unless you know me, I’m not a real person. I am just a caricature. I don’t feel as if I am really there, as if my presence alone is enough to make me a person. I am only a person through commitment, through being understood by someone else that has the right kind of patience to put up with me. For the most part, only I myself have that kind of patience. That’s why I enjoy my own company. I feel as if I freak out too easily when meeting new people. I feel as if I overwhelm them with information, like as if I am some walking thunderstorm demanding their attention. Yes, that’s the great irony of it all. I say that I struggle to put up with the chaos of others, the wild sea of people swarming the city, yet I am the worst chaotic agent of them all. I am a mess of a person. I am hullabaloo incarnate. And that is why I feel such an incessant need to repress. Don’t press the button that lets open the floodgates. Keep it all bottled up. Keep on being repressed. Keep on staring straight forwards, ignoring that person trying to scam you for money.

Of course that person isn’t reading this blog post. They’re busy trying to find some other sucker to pay for their drug fix, or whatever it is that they need money for. Maybe they’re just trying to pay for rent. In any case, if I had the person here with me, right at this moment, I would tell them… Well, I would yell at them… I would absolutely admonish them… I would... I would… I would probably just ignore them. It is so easy to try and pretend as if you’re more sociable than you actually are. In your head, things seem so easy. Yes, I know what I’d say, I know exactly how to express myself. But in reality, well, things are complex, the overwhelming actuality of it all swamps you. When haven’t you had that idea for the perfect comeback of a line to sling at a person you’re quarrelling with only after the argument is over? When haven’t you had an idea for just the right and proper way to awe another person with your mind and your words. I am sure they will be impressed with me now, if only I say the right things. If only I can act the right way. If only I don’t fuck it up. If only I don’t act like such a dork.

This blog is easy. I get to think about every word I express here. I get to erase sentences I don’t like. That backspace on the keyboard, it’s well-worn with use. Some folks don’t understand how I can be autistic and still be as good with words as I am. This is my second language that I am writing in. I am not some mute little chicken, some gagged little monkey. I know how to express myself, when I get the time. When I get that moment to write, I will write, and I won’t stop until I am done. All my posts I tend to write in one go, late at night when I should be going to bed. When I am in the right mood. When all those synapses in my brain fire the right way. Those moments, they are common, but they aren’t to be summoned just when I need them. They come when they wish to come. I can only be a passenger, going along with my brain, doing whatever it demands. In those other moments, those moments I am standing there, waiting for the train, I may become entirely mute. I may not have a single thing to say. I may look like a real dummy, some real himbo, utterly lost for words. I am not pretending, at those moments. I truly am lost for words. At some times, language is easy. At other times, I don’t even understand how to string a basic sentence together.

I am tired. I am going to go to bed.

[yheunjung]

what’s up? i’m red (21+, he/she/they). it’s so lovely to meet all of you! i’ve brought hwang eunjung (22, she/her) into the group today. the most important thing to know about her is that she’s not interested in being polite or heterosexual!! also, she’s a politicians daughter, aspiring revolutionist, college senior and asmr youtuber. i know that’s a lot going on but i think it makes sense! you can find a complete profile here, background here plus a bunch of wanted connections here. below the cut is a tl;dr + some quick plot ideas. all the usual and since tumblr im is circling the drain you can also find me on twitter (@.lectracity) or disc.ord (@ AWCY?#8739) as well! thank you so much for taking the time to read this! i hope to talk to you soon!!!

Fun Facts

was very different until about 16? an embodiment of children should be seen and not heard with a lovely smile, exemplary behavior as well as a lot of internalized trauma

now she’s (trying to be) loud, pissed and determined to use every advantage given her to make a change for the good

kind of thinks her dad is Evil, agrees with many of his detractors and WILL put a stop to him, but also that’s still her family? so don’t talk shit about them if you aren’t prepared to get hit. it’s complicated!!

father wanted her to study business, but she openly defied him in a really big moment of personal growth to go into political science so she could one day try to improve things (and help right the wrongs he did yk)

drives a dark red suzuki katana

volunteers at women's shelters, animal shelters and is a major activist for lgbt+ rights

genuinely cares for people and believes everyone’s story deserves to be heard

also loves animals but especially more unusual ones? thus she has a massive terrarium decked out to the nines for sweetie her 3 year old ball python whom is quite possibly the most spoiled serpent in all the land

has been stealing her fathers personal belongings for a couple of years, selling them and donating the money to charity. he has yet to notice.

started out selling gifts from her parents first and it’s escalated

will for sure escalate some more so like keep an eye on your stuff

she gets an allowance from her mother which she supplements with money from her youtube channel to live independently of her father

despite the surface level chaos, eunjung is incredibly calculating and deliberate. if she’s got two different shoes on that was on purpose.

she’s desperate to distance herself from the perfect image she had growing up. really just wants to be her own person

acts quite goofy and angry, but just know that’s her trying her best!!!

sometimes still cringes when things get loud. absolutely hates that she has problems with that, but can rescind into herself in extreme situations

part of the reason she prefers hole in the wall to any clubs

Quick Start Ideas

They spot her struggling to climb over the fence to get into her house after her dad changed the security code so she’d call him.

Eunjung may have had a bit too much to drink and maybe they were kindly offering her some assistance home, (or maybe she was just in their way wtv it’s up to you) except she took it the incredibly wrong way and tried to hit them with a bottle. 

They were minding their own business shopping at the galleria when they saw Eunjung running around with bags full of wigs and the most random assortment of stuff that begs to be checked out. But it only gets weirder from there.

During a stream, she was given an absolutely ridiculous donation and the name of the supporter is very familiar to her. Not aware that anyone in the neighborhood knew what she was doing, it sent her into a bit of a panic. They don’t have to be someone who typically watches her kind of videos and could 100% just be doing it to see her freak out!

All roughed up and clearly avoiding going home to angry parents, Eunjung spotted them leaning around the neighborhood and insisted they stay at her place for the night. She’s a master of sneaking in, so it wasn’t an issue.

Anything involving running down alleys together away from someone. I don’t care what kind of situation is involved, I just really want it okay.

[tally-kiza]

Undyne Headcanons

UNDERTALE

- After Undyne’s parents died when she was young, she became determined to get justice for al monsters who had to die without seeing the surface. She went to Asgore to fight him so she could get into the Royal Guard, but instead Asgore trained her. It wasn’t long before she felt like a daughter to him. It warmed his broken heart. Many years passed before he finally let Undyne into the Guard. As the king expected, she quickly climbed up the ranks into captain.

- Undyne and Papyrus’s friendship is full of sarcasm and weird jokes (like that time in canon where they joked about spider-ducks); a typical offbeat humor. They also get into weird competitions with each other, like who can drink 8 glasses of milk fastest, and who can leave the biggest splatter by smashing tomatoes. Watching their chaos is... an experience.

- Undyne is her students' favorite teacher. Most consider her gym class awesome. Obstacle courses, extreme dodgeball, bench pressing the students. The kiddos, humans and monsters alike, have a blast. (Even thought she's not so good at the whole grading thing.)

- Even on the surface, where Undyne has proper recipes, she's still a terrible cook. At least her house isn't always on fire, though. Unfortunately, Alphys is also a terrible cook. She can only manage noodles and take-out. After a few months of this awful diet, they both agreed to take cooking lessons. It went swimmingly!! ...Yeah, they got kicked out after 3 classes. Undyne only barely managed to reign in her chaotic nature enough to learn how to make a salad and boil water with burning her house down.

- Owns a bunch of giant swords on the surface --- Swears like a sailor --- Hated nerdy stuff as a kid, but now is super supportive about it --- Blushes and gets a dreamy look on her face every time Alphys is mentioned; Even when they’ve been married for 20 years lol

UNDERSWAP

- She’s timid when Chara first meets them, but by the end of their journey, her passionate side really shines through. It just takes a bit for her to come out of her shell. But once she’s herself, it’s very clear how passionate and exuberant Undyne can be! Mostly about science, anime, and Alphys lol.

- Met Alphys at the dump. Undyne was looking for spare parts for her experiments when she spotted Alphys. The dino was staring at the waterfalls, contemplating her decision to be captain of the guard. Alphys never really wanted to hurt humans but she did want to free everyone, so it was a difficult decision for her. Noticing the other’s sadness, Undyne nervously introduced herself to snap Alph out of her reverie. They quickly became fast friends (and fell in love huehuehue)

- Experiments tend to go a little haywire when she’s really excited (and by haywire, i mean... explosion-inducing.) There are permanent burn marks on the walls of her lab. She doesn’t bother to clean them off anymore, not when they appear so often.

- Even more affected by the amalgamates than UT Alphys. Undyne truly thought she had saved everyone; she was so proud! But when she saw what the aftermath, she was devastated. The scientist never thought about her reputation, only how horribly she ruined them, how much pain she caused for them and their families. It was unbearable, knowing she was causing so much suffering. So Undyne hid them, not because she was worried of how people would think of her, but to prevent their families from seeing how devastated their loved ones had become. Chara reminded her, though, that she was just causing more suffering by making those families never know what had occurred.

- Undyne has been friends with Papyrus since they were kids. Shortly before he graduated, she got him an apprenticeship with the royal scientist. And even when he quit, they stayed friends, and often cook up explode-y experiments together. Both of them are still horrible cooks. ‘Dyne also has him join her to watch anime together. Pap isn’t as invested as she is, but he likes it well enough.

- Meme illiterate --- Loves side scroller games --- Can’t cook to save her life --- Plays piano for Chara when they first meet --- Met Napstablook at their cousin’s human fan club meeting. NTT felt guilty when they started distancing themself from her after they got famous, but the more time went on, the more awkward it would be if they returned, so they just.. never did... sorry...

UNDERFELL

- Papyrus is Undyne’s second-in-command and best friend. Neither of them will ever admit it, but they wouldn’t trade each other’s friendship for the world. And more so, they’re just chaotic goofballs a lot of the time. Normally Pap can calm Undyne’s hectic nature, but once she convinces him to join her mischievous plans, they are an unstoppable force of nature.

- Oddly enough, for being so chaotic and destructive, Undyne avoids fighting people as much as possible. She’ll always choose verbally de-escalating a confrontation over physically fighting any day of the week. Not because she’s a weak fighter, (no, if anything Undyne’s the strongest opponent you could ever face, second to Sans) but because she wants to minimize the bloodshed. The captain hates seeing her race at each other’s throats; it’s heartbreaking. So when it comes to monsters, she will always choose the most peaceful option until she has no other choice.

- When it comes to humans, though... ohohoho Undyne is merciless. She doesn’t even give the human the chance to run away. Frisk can’t beat her, all they can do is survive as long as possible. That is, until Pap shows up and distracts undyne while Frisk escapes. (Pap loves protecting helpless creatures, and Frisk was just too cute of a kid to let Undyne slaughter them). From there it proceeded like in canon UT: the human and Pap ran away to Hotland until Undyne passed out from the heat. Frisk stopped and gave her some water before the fish lady was revived, glared at them, and stomped back home.

- From there on, Frisk befriends her the same way as UT, except Papyrus doesn’t insist on hanging out with Undyne. In fact, he urges the human not to, but Frisk decides to go back and talk with her anyway. Pap tags along only to protect frisk! Definitely not to make up with Undyne. The hang out progressed as normal (just with ‘Dyne being a little more destructive and ranting about Paps’ betrayal for a bit), and she and Pap call up Frisk often with their usual snarky banter.

- Probably sets her house on fire on purpose. Why wait for the fire to come to her, when she can get one leg up on the fire!! Oh no... now she’s literally trying to fistfight her burning house. Can someone get a fire extinguisher!? Additionally, everything she cooks ends up on fire. Boils water? Fire. Makes a salad? Fire. Looks at a box of cereal? Fire. She’s like a Sim.

- Always gives the guard dogs pets --- Swears all the time and super crass. She doesn’t even censor herself around Frisk --- Wears her hair in a bun to prevent enemies from grabbing it during battle --- Has a very obvious crush on Alphys. Always gets shy and blushy when she talks about her. Pap teases her about it constantly

SWAPFELL

- Met Papyrus when he applied for an apprenticeship with the other Royal Scientist. The two of them quickly became fast friends: science-y, anime-loving nerds. But when Undyne started the DT experiments, Pap left. He could not in good faith sit back and watch her play god with people’s souls. They had a huge argument before he stormed out and they haven’t talked since.

- Over the course of Chara’s journey, as they have phone calls with Papyrus, and eventually Undyne, the two of them slowly begin talking things out. And by the end of the true pacifist route Pap and ‘Dyne have reconciliated and are friends again. It’s truly heartwarming!

- Rumors claim that Undyne is some kind of horrible mad scientist. Screams and shrieks are often heard emanating from the lab, surely awful and painful experiments are going on. But nobody dares go near the lab to investigate, fearing their lives... but NOPE! it’s just Undyne’s shocked wails at dramatic plot twists in her animes, and the sadness of particularly brutal scenes. Chara was terrified they met her, believing all those rumors. imagine their relief when they found out she’s just a nerd.

- Has the same motivations as US Undyne when it comes to the amalgamates, but SF ‘Dyne also hid them to try and fix them. Do more research, more experiments, anything to undo what happened! But none of it worked, so she just gave up...

- She is very curt when you first meet her, but it’s not long before that stony exterior melts away to reveal Undyne’s true form: a chaotic and excitable nerd with access to highly dangerous chemicals and explosives! ‘Dyne’s not crazy, she’s just really passionate and reckless about the things she loves.

- Loves how strong Alphys is. It’s the coolest! (But they both think they’re each the protector in their relationship lol) --- Created NTT to kill humans, but they just ignored her after she made their body, and left to pursue music instead. How rude! --- Adores vocaloid songs! Her favorite is “Paradichlorobenzene.” She even learned to play it on her piano! --- Addicted to coffee. She is VERY hyper at times. --- Tends to prefer darker animes but she secretly loves Mew Mew Kissy Cutie. No one can find out. Or else.

[namjoonsteeth]

HONEY - (Bangtan Boys mini series)

A/N: not fully edited yet

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Genre: Smut; enemies to lovers

Word Count: 7.6k

Joon always reminded me of honey, smooth and wet. From the way he spoke to the way he moved. 

Even as we both trade abrasive words in class, rallying back and forth as we try to make known our top tier positions academically. Namjoon is far smarter than me. This much I know. The guy is an actual genius with which that could not be argued with. He corrected professors, he pointed out contradictions in course material, and more often than not he made his disdain for me known whenever I went up against him. I picked fights with him. It was clear to everyone. He’d say one thing, and I made it my sole purpose to side with the opposite. It was petty and completely unnecessary; I’m sure our professors found our sparring to be a waste of time on most days. 

“Which is why the statement “Shakespeare is overrated” is neither accurate nor is it valid, Y/n. Not only has he contributed many words to the modern English language, its undeniable that he has changed the way authors and playwrights tell stories,” he ends his ten minute rant by shooting me one last look of distaste.

I irritate him. I’m mostly ok with that considering that any attention from him is good attention. He’d reminded me of honey, and the only time I could get his eyes on me was when we were fighting. I’d relished in the times that he’d narrow his dark brown eyes on me, his full lips going a mile a minute as he’d battled my made up opinions. He talked slowly but quick all at once. He’d take long beats of time to formulate his attacks before spewing them out without even a breath in between. If I was anyone else, If I didn’t love every bit of attention he’d given me, maybe he would’ve broken me semesters ago. 

“One day you’re going to make him snap,” Seokjin smiles while we walk from European literature. 

Namjoon  left before us, knowing that his friend would walk me to my next class after we grab something to eat. I think it further irritated him that I found a way to be friends with all of his roommates. He’d refused to both join a fraternity as well as leave his friends alone to fend for themselves. He’s the most responsible one out of all seven boys, even managing to keep the older ones in line too. That’s just how Joon is, he’s in control of most things in his life. 

“That’s the plan,” I smile brightly up at him. 

“Why are you such a brat, Y/N-,” Seokjin winces immediately after speaking as a hand slaps the back of his neck. The younger boy joins us naturally, a sweet wide smile on his face while he teases his friend. He shakes his dark hair out of his face before tucking his hands into the deep pockets of of his oversized black hoodie. 

“Hey, Jeon Jungkook, I’m older than you, you know?” Seokjin says knowing that it’ll start a fight. I sigh waiting for the inevitable; JK hits Seokjin, Jin reminds him that he’s five years older than him and demands respect, JK pretends like none of that matter, chaos ensues until another boy shows up to break it up.

“And you still don’t know how the talk politely to women,” JK clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

I watch the two of them bicker back and forth, trading neck slaps and dodging each other on the crowded sidewalk. I watch as the other students get out of the way of their playing, not batting an eyelash as JK dramatically rolls on the ground to dodge Seokjin’s attack. 

The Bangtan boys have always been a spectacle. In the beginning they were foreign exchange students who seemed to be good at everything all at once. They were all so close that everyone thought that they were real brothers, no one really bothered to correct them because for all intents and purposes, they are. Seokjin quickly became the lead of Thespian Club, Yoongi an irreplaceable shooting guard on the school’s basketball team, JK and Tae have founded a whole gaming club as well as being members of the men’s choir, and Jimin is student body president as well as the co leader of the dance team with Hoseok who is also a member of the diversity board. As for Namjoon, there isn’t enough time to list all of his accolades. 

He’s a genius. Not even speaking in terms of comparability to the other students at the university. Namjoon is a genius compared to the world. With an IQ of 148 he surpassed me easily. I think that’s why I liked to mess with him so much. I know that I can never beat him academically. We both know, but I think it annoyed him that I wouldn’t stop trying. 

We finally get to the sandwich restaurant on campus. We spot Jimin and Taehyung easily. All the Bangtan boys have a draw to them. Invisible halos that draws the eye the minute they enter a room. They could be doing the most mundane thing in the world, like sitting at a restaurant with their noses buried in One Piece, and they’ve got the whole room’s attention. Jimin with his high cheekbones that cause the apples of his cheeks to puff up when he smiles and silver hair, Tae with his angular features that no doubt belong on a runway. It’s hard not to look at them, What’s worse is that all seven boys hold the same charm. Gazes move from the two young boys in the center of the lunch room toward the two boys who are still fighting playfully as we make our way to our friends.

“Y/N, are you coming over tonight?” Jimin asks, while leaning forward to see me past Tae. 

I shake my head as I pull out my buzzing cellphone. It’s Hoseok, telling us that he’s buying us all burgers and if we want something else it’s a little too late. The boys all ignore the text, fine with anything as always. Yoongi tells us that he’s skipping lunch to go work on some music before his game tonight. I see Namjoon’s floating icon pop up, showing that he’s read the message. It’s been weeks since he’d had lunch with us. Usually he’s able to ignore me and focus solely on the boys. Out of the blue he’d started going to the library during the first break in his schedule.

“I rather not sit through passive aggressive Namjoon finding different ways to express his hate for me without being too obvious,”

Hope brings sets two trays full of food in the middle of the booth table we’re all sitting at. His hair is back to black meaning that he’s either changed the girl he’s sleeping with this week or his preferred dance style. He’s entirely too predictable and he’s fine with it. He catches my eye as he slides into the booth beside me and passes JK a drink.

“Oh, he 100% hates you,” he says seriously. “Hey, Jeon Jungkook, I only got you one burger. Don’t eat too fast,”

JK smiles around his already full mouth. He sips at his drink to wash his food down so he can speak. “It’s ok. Jin Hyung will get the next round,”

“What do I look like to you, huh?” Seokjin points across the table at JK who laughs at having riled up the oldest again. “I spend so much money on you, neglecting the other maknaes all in the name of putting food in front of you,”

“Maybe if you weren’t old you wouldn’t have to bare the responsibilities that come with being the eldest,”

“Hey, Jeon Jungkook!” 

The rest of the boys ignore them as they get into another round of bickering. It escalates when Jin reaches out for a neck slice which JK dodges easily. Hope rolls his eyes and pulls out his phone. 

“Hyung, doesn’t hate you,” Tae says not looking up from the graphic novel in his hands. He opens his lips wide as Jimin shoves a French fry into his mouth. 

He flicks his strawberry pink bangs out of his face and focuses on his story. That’s how Tae is. Either he’s completely absorbed in our conversation or he’s only giving us half of his attention. He’s almost done with his book, so I expect by tonight he’ll be the center of chaos with JK. 

It’s not that I actually think Namjoon dislikes me. He wouldn’t let me get to him so much if there isn’t just a hint of fond there. At least, I hope so. I hope there’s a part of him that likes going at it with me as much as I do. Still, sometimes it feels like he’d give anything to get me to shut up. Or maybe it’s that he wants to be the one to do so. Again, I hope so. God, I really want him to. 

It isn’t news that Namjoon is attractive. Whatever trait you’re into, he has it. He’s incredibly intelligent, able to outsmart just about anyone on campus. He’s physically attractive, slightly tan skin, tall, large just about everywhere. He’s funny when he’s with his friends, protective, sensitive, and just about anything else you could think of. God, I sound like I’m in love with the guy. If I’m honest, maybe I am a little. Maybe that’s the point of all of this.

“This is dangerous territory,” Hope warns looking a up form his one and at his friend who don’t seem to have a problem with spilling all of Namjoon’s secrets. His warning seems serious but he speaks around a large bite of the burger in his hands. There’s sauce on his cheek, JK reaches out to wipe his jaw quickly before going back to his own meal. 

“I think he wants to sleep with you,” Jimin proclaims before wincing as Hope and Seokjin hit either side of his shoulders at the same time. “Hey, why should I lie?”

“Where’s your loyalty, Jimin,” Hope asks frowning at him. 

Jimin shrugs. 

“With whoever is in the room I guess. And I’m not betraying Joonie Hyung. I’m taking the steps he’s too prideful to take,”

It would be funny if I wasn’t too focused on how all five boys look to be hiding something. It’s not fair for me to exploit Jimin’s weak ties, right? I’m going to do it anyway. As smart as Namjoon is, he’s not necessarily right about everything. I can’t imagine I’ve done something so bad for him to avoid me so much that he’d sacrifice spending time with his friends. 

“Which are,” I prod. 

JK covers Jimin’s mouth to keep him from speaking. If there’s anyone loyal to Namjoon it’s going to be the youngest. He’s shown a reverence for the other boy plenty of time, even refusing to take my side on most occasions. I can’t expect him to tell me what’s going on without a little work. 

“JK,” I say pushing my lips out in a pout. 

He’s young, not quite accustomed to the charms of women. Though he knows he’s incredibly attractive, he’s not quite sure how to act around girls yet. His cheeks turn red as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. Like a deer in headlights, he looks a little innocent and a lot startled. 

“Don’t fall for it, Kookie,” Hope warns again. 

I roll my eyes and try again, blocking Hoseok’s strict expression with my hand on his face. He makes an obnoxious noise of anguish before quieting down. Satisfied, I remove my hand and let him eat in peace. Tae continues to ignore us, Seokjin watches in silence as Jimin’s eyes light up in mischief. 

“You know I like your hyung, JK. It’s not like I’ll use anything you tell me against him,”

That’s only half true. I’m going to get Kim Namjoon to admit to liking me even if it’s just a little bit. That’s my mission.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, but Mon Hyung would kill me-,” JK curses as Jimin bites his hand that’s still slapped down on his mouth. He shakes the sting off as Jimin shakes free of his hold.

“You made out with him at a party last Summer and he thinks you’re purposely ignoring it,” Jimin rushes out quickly.

More curses, this time from Seokjin, Hope, and JK. Tae smiles to himself but only flips the page of his book, completely unbothered and only slightly entertained. I knew I can count on one of the younger boys. I make a note to address JK’s misplaced alliance later. 

“I kissed Namjoon?”

Jimin shakes his head. “I would call it more foreplay than a ‘kiss’, if I’m honest. It was at one of our house parties and I honestly felt like I was watching a very well shot, very realistic dirty movie,”

I look at Seokjin who only shrugs. “It was intense,”

“We didn’t-,”

Hope shakes his head. “You passed out before anything could happen. Namjoon took you up to JK’s room and that was it,”

“Last summer?” I ask, still trying to piece it all together. 

The memory doesn’t even seem remotely familiar. I’d passed out in the bangtan house more than once, crashed in JK’s room even more times than I can remember considering he has an aversion to his own bed. This could have happened at anytime.

“Either you’re repressing the memory or you actually don’t remember,” Hope says while going back to stuffing his face. 

“Why am I only finding out now?” I frown. “I’ve been asking you guys what I’d done wrong for a year and a half now,”

“Namjoon Hyung is scary when he wants to be. We all promised we wouldn’t say anything. Jimin, whatever he does to you, you deserve it,” Tae contributes while closing his book. 

I agree, the recent turn of events are more interesting than anything else. I’ve been friends with these boys for just over three years now. I’m without a doubt the closest friend outside of the seven of them that they have. They’re my best friends, all of them; even Namjoon if he would stop acting like a dickhead all of the time. 

Jimin shrugs and has the nerve to look smug. “I’m his favorite. He won’t care,”

He’s  right. Jimin won’t get in trouble for spilling Joon’s secrets. 

I eventually agree to go over tonight. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve seen Yoongi with how busy he’s been with practice and working on music. Still, it’s Namjoon that my heartbeat doubles for. I haven’t spent anytime with him outside of class in a while. Granted usually our time is spent sitting on opposite ends of the couch and shooting each other passive aggressive jabs. Still, I miss him.

Ironically, its Joon that opens the door when I get to their shared house. I’d decided to confront him about the whole “kiss” from last summer, still not completely believing the boys. I can’t imagine touching Namjoon at all and being able to forget about it. I needed an upper hand with him, though. I may annoy him most of the time with my picking and what not, but there’s still a part of him, even if solely on the physical level, that is attracted to me. I use that small fact to my advantage.

“You’re here,” he says. 

It’s hard not to respond to him. I feel my body heat as he looks down at me. He speaks slowly like he’s not in a rush to let me in; typical. His body stays in the door way, blocking me from entering. We play this game every time I come over. His arms cross over his chest like he has no plans of letting me in anytime soon. As always, I look forward to it. We aren’t in class now, he’s free to let me have any insult he wants. 

“Don’t let anyone tell you that you aren’t observant, Kim Namjoon,” I smile up at him.

He looks at my attire, the dusty pink dress stops right at the top of my thighs showing more skin than not. I watch his eyes rake over my body before he frowns at me again, a ‘W’ shaped line in the middle of his forehead. His jaw ticks once before pushing out just a bit. 

“Did you have a date?” He’s obviously only pretending to care. I can tell by the sarcastic way his eye brow raises. 

I raise my eyebrow back at him, unable to stop a smirk. “You care?”

“Does it matter?” he challenges, grating my nerves. Sighing, he smiles while giving me a scathing look. “Besides, it couldn’t have ended well if you’re here begging for attention as always”

“From who exactly,” I ask while crossing my arms over my chest. I don’t miss how his eyes flick down to my chest. His gaze lingers longer than he’s ever allowed himself to. 

“It’s whom,” he corrects. “From whom is the proper-,”

“You don’t ever shut up, do you?” I interrupt becoming irritated. I shouldn’t be surprised. This is us. It’s dysfunctional and very stupid, but its how we’ve done things for the majority of the time that I’ve known him. 

“Namjoon, we both know that you don’t like me enough to care what I do,”

“Stop telling people I don’t like you,” he frowns as if he’s just remembering something. “And stop grilling Jimin for information,” 

He turns, leaving the door open, finally letting me in. 

“The guys aren’t here,” he calls over his shoulder. 

I follow him to the kitchen where our friends usually gather. He’s right, no one is home. This kind of seems like a set up. Just a little.

“Yoongi hyung has a game, Seokjin hyung and JK are there. Jimin and Tae are seeing a movie and Hope left an hour ago,”

Very convenient. I’m in the middle of sending a heated text message to the group chat about leaving me alone with Namjoon after telling me about you kiss last summer. Unfortunately for me, Namjoon is the type to talk about everything. Even if he’s not particularly fond of me, I can sense a discussion on the horizon. At least if the boys were here I’d have a bit of backup. This feels like an ambush with nowhere to run.

He hands me a bottle of water as he pulls one out for himself as well. I take a seat on a stool at the island counter in the middle of the kitchen. Namjoon leans against the refrigerator, his eyes on me as he takes a sip of water. His eyes never leave mine and its pretty hard for me to look anywhere else beside the deep dimples around his mouth that appears as he gulps down water. He uses the back of his hand to wipe his upper lip 

I can’t remember the last time I’d been left alone with Joon. It was never awkward between us, but I was definitely closer to any one of the other guys than him. But he was also the only one of the Bangtan boys that I was ever attracted to. He just wasn’t approachable in that way, though He was always doing his own thing, always studying, tutoring, working on music. It wasn’t standoffish, he was just busy. Then it became that he’d rather do anything other than spend any amount of time with me.

The more I think about it, it was last year that we’d started losing patience with each other. As irritating as he is sometimes, I still like him. I really like him. His peach colored hair is starting to grown out just a bit already, darkening at his roots. He’s wearing his glasses, so either he was studying or working on something. Whichever it was, he looks incredibly domesticated in his t-shirt and sweatpants. I look at his feet to see his favorite character on his slippers. Its cute. The hidden parts of Namjoon that he hides away from everyone else but has no problem showing the other boys. I find it endearing. 

“So are you going to stay until they get home or what?” He breaks me out of my thoughts of him.

“We’re friends right Joon?” I ask without really meaning to.

I’ve been thinking of our strained relationship all day,  not really able to focus on anything else. Because at the end of the day, I want to be friends with Namjoon. If nothing else, we could get back to how things were when they first showed up. 

“We used to be able to at least hold a conversation without jumping down each other’s throats,”

“Friends?” He raises an eye brow at me before taking a few steps forward, and leans against the counter, taking me by surprise. 

Namjoon doesn’t have an ordinary face. I can’t explain it. He’s rough, hard angled , but he’s also soft. I know if I would reach out he’d feel the same way against my finger tips.

“You do everything you can to piss me off, and you want to be friends?”

I shake my head, unable to take my eyes off of his mouth when he’s this close. 

“I want you to remind me about last summer, actually,”

He draws back slightly, looking almost..embarrassed. God, he really does think I’m purposely ignoring the supposed kiss. I thought I was being immature by purposely getting under his skin sometimes, but this is beyond childish. Unless he thinks that I actually regret it. Can’t regret anything you don’t remember Namjoon. 

“I don’t remember the kiss, Joon,” I tell him quietly.

He rolls his eyes and draws back further. His chin juts out; a sign that he’s agitated. I’m getting on his nerves again, not in the banter-like way, more that he’s ten seconds away from throwing me outside. 

“That’s supposed to be better?” He frowns while crossing his arms over his wide chest. “Because it isn’t, by the way. That was just a rhetorical question,”

Smart ass.

“Which one hurts your feeling more, Namjoon,” I can’t but sound bitter. He’s being mean. He’s always mean, but now it feels like he’s purposely trying to hurt my feelings. I’m done pretending like I don’t care how we treat each other. 

“The option that you think it matters to me either way,” he snaps at me. His eyes narrow at the counter between us. 

“You’re lying,” I counter. 

“Why, because I don’t care that you were too drunk to remember that you kissed me? It’s irrelevant,” He looks back up at me and his eyes are dark. I like it. I like it entirely too much. 

“And you’re so sure that I kissed you first?” I scoff, walking around the counter to stand in front of him. I can feel heat rolling off of his body like he’s putting in extra effort to control himself. If only he knew that its the very opposite of what I want him to do. 

“Yes, because I wasn’t blacked out,”

“I’m going to do it again then,” I take a step so that my toes line up with his slippers.  

“What-,”

I press my lips against his softly, forcing myself to take in every detail about how his mouth feels against mine. His lips are cold from the water he’d been drinking, his tongue is too. He taste sweet. Honey. All of him reminds me of Honey. Sweet, slow moving, packing more flavor than first expected. His hands move up my hips, drawing up the fabric of my dress. When his hand touches my thigh, it electricity right to my most sensitive nerve endings.

I want him. All of him. I’m sober and tired of pretending that our back and forth exchanges are enough. I press my body tighter against his, shaping every curve to his body. I expected him to push me away by now, but he holds me closer, hands moving all over me. At some points he seems hesitant, he pulls back, his eyes moving over my face as if he’s checking that I’m still here with him.

I’m here, and as good as he feels, his mouth isn’t enough. I don’t think it ever was. I’ve envisioned Joon’s body against mine more times than I can count. It’s the little doses of his skin that he’d show on occasions that started it. Glimpses of the tan skin of his neck as he scratched at his collarbone in glass, the pull of his lip between his teeth when he was thinking hard about something, his large hands and long fingers; they were all puzzle pieces of a whole that made me want every part of him touching me. 

“Touch me,” I whisper against his mouth. 

He lets me drag his hand up the side of his thigh. He takes the hint, fingers inching up my dress until he traces the waistband of my underwear. He’s so close, all he has to do is go a bit further, but he stops.

“They guys could walk in,” he says, pulling away fully. 

Now that I have him this close, I’m not going to make it easy for him to let me go. I’m here for one thing. Namjoon. 

“Well then lets go to your room,” I grab his hand and lead him out of the kitchen and toward the hallway that leads to the room he shares with Taehyung. 

“Why so suddenly?” He tugs at my hand, stopping me from entering his room. 

“Huh,” I look back at him.

I don’t really know how to answer his question. The only difference between today and yesterday is knowing that our first kiss happened already. Still, that hadn’t really made much of a difference. I’m emboldened by the sheer fact that he wants me at all.

“All this time and now you want to fuck,”

“Does it matter?” I shrug, hoping that for once he can just let it go.

He does. He nods for me to push the door, letting us both into his room. As expected of Tae, it’s a mess. Unexpected of Namjoon, his side is also a mess too. Wires and equipment take up most of his desk, piles of clothing on the computer chair in front. For someone so uptight in every other aspect, his room is the complete opposite. Not to say that I’m attracted to unkempt men, but it’s a little reassuring for some reason.

He pushes my back against his wooden door interrupting my scan of his room. His mouth trailing down from the corner of my mouth down to my neck. As if he can’t stand to be away from my lips for long, he kisses my mouth again, his tongue forcing its way between my lips. His large hands smooth over my bare thighs roughly. He touches me like he’s annoyed with himself, like he’s mad that he wants me in this way. I love it because I’ve known all this time. 

One hand reaches up to lightly cup my throat, his hand is so big that his thumb can reach the hair that sticks to my lip gloss. He brushes it away with his finger as he looks down at me. He looks partially surprised that we’ve ended up like this. I want to remind him that that theres a thin line between fucking and fighting, but he’d only scoff and tell me to stop stealing corny lines from Jin. 

“Are you going to keep touching me or is this it?” I ask him, trying my best to drag a breath into my lungs. 

He rolls his eyes and presses his lips against mine to shut me up. I close my eyes, trying to commit the feel of his lips to memory. Things like this are volatile. There’s no way of knowing just how much Joon will give me tonight let alone if I’ll ever get to have him touch like this again. His bottom lip works with his teeth to bite at my sore mouth. He feels dirty, and uneven, like he’s not even trying to make this neat like everything else in his life. Just like his room, his intimacy style reveals who he truly is. The truth beneath Namjoon, he’s a mess, he’s sort of a freak, and he’s making everything up as he goes. There’s a certain charm to how well he’s gotten at getting everyone to believe that he knows exactly whats going on, when in reality he’s just as clueless as the rest of us. 

“And If I tell you that I want you to leave?” He breathes heavily, only leaving the smallest space between our lips. 

“You’d be lying,” I tell him while I reach up to brush his sweaty bangs off of his forehead. “But if you’d asked me to leave, I would go,”

I lean back, putting more space between us. I’ll give him one formal chance to change his mind, one chance to act like this never happened, because once I get permission to stay, he’ll have to try really hard to keep this dress from hitting his floor. I tilt my head as I size him up one last time. There’s still a possibility that he’d put an end to this. I’m measuring my odds. Going by the press of his dick between my legs from beneath his sweat pants, I know that physically he wants me. That could only go so far. I don’t think I’ll survive a come to senses moment in the middle of all of this. 

“Joon,” I call running my hand down the front of his t-shirt. “Make up your mind. Either put me out or take my clothes off,”

He looks frustrated. I can tell its mostly at himself. That doesn’t make me feel any better. I want to be in his bed, only if he wants me in his bed. Of course it would be easy to settle for a one time hate fuck, but he doesn’t hate me. At least, I don’t think he does. I’m really hoping he doesn’t. 

He grips my fingers right as they curl around his waistband. He takes a full step back, causing my feet to land fully on the floor. I don’t like this at all. I want to go back to having his mouth on me. I watch as he takes a seat on the edge of his bed. His hands scrub over the top of his scalp, running through the peach colored locks. Am I stressing him out? Am I having an effect? I hope to god I am. For the sake of my insistent need to have him, I hope that how much he wants me is driving him crazy. 

He leans back on his elbows and I see the switch. His eyes trace over my body. I can almost feel them seeking out bare skin above anything else. His gaze is so potent that I feel goosebumps rise to my skin only from him watching me. 

“Take your panties off, Y/N,” 

His voice has become even deeper. It seems almost impossible but he sounds gruff, the arrogance from earlier is gone leaving me with only a matched need to have him inside me sooner rather than later. 

As always, I don’t do as he says. I like our games. I like when he looks at me like I’ve hit every nerve possible. I like the attention. Only this time there’s no classroom. There’s no professor to break up the tension, no students to make snide remarks about how we’re destined to butt heads. It’s just Namjoon and I this time, and the feel of his shag carpet between my toes as I make my way over toward him. He’d told me to take my underwear off, but I do the opposite when I stop in front of him. I grab the edge of my dress in my hands before pulling it up over my head. I watch his eyes follow the material as it drops to his floor. 

“If you go back now, you’ll never live it down, Joon,” I straddle his lap, planting my knees on either side of him on the mattress. “No matter how much you beat me in the class room, if you don’t fuck me tonight, I win,”

He reaches up with two hands to cup my jaw. When he kisses me this time, it’s almost too soft to believe. He’s too gentle, too immersive. As much as I want this, I wanted to keep my head, but right now everything feels a little incoherent. Nothing makes sense. The fact that I’m even here with him doesn’t make sense. But its Namjoon, and I’ve spent the better part of the last two and a half years wondering if his lips taste as good as they look. I’m finding that they don’t; they’re better. 

His hands go to the back of my bra, undoing the latches before dropping it down to the floor with my dress. He pulls back, looking at my chest like he’s mesmerized. I didn’t realize just how much I’d wanted his eyes on me like this. The high I got from sparring with him in class is nothing compared to the way his eyes smooth over my chest, his tongue flicks over his bottom lip so quickly that if I hadn’t been staring at his mouth, I would have missed it. 

I don’t know what it is about having his unwavering attention, to have him one hundred percent focused on me. Something about his gaze on me makes me want to make sure it doesn’t stray. I guess this is my chance to cement his eyes on me. If tonight is all I get, then its my mission to make it so memorable that he’d have to actively work to forget me. 

I move first, leaving the warmth of his lap and crawling behind him into the middle of his mattress. I kneel behind him, running my hands across his broad shoulders, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. I get to do this. For so long, I’ve imagined it. I’d spent hours in class wondering what it would like to touch him like this, and to have him touch me. His honey colored skin rises in goosebumps as I kiss him, moving pass the collar of his shirt. 

“I’m going to take your clothes off now,” I say quietly. 

He nods and lets me pull his t-shirt off. His shoulders are so broad, its hard to resist running my hands across his shoulder blades. My fingers trace over the beauty spots that dot along his collar bones. I want more time. I want to see all of him, to explain every inch of his tan skin. But I’m also a little impatient. 

I reach in front of him, slipping my hand passed the waistband of his sweats. He’s not wearing underwear, that much was clear from the minute he answered the door. Now, feeling him, running my hand over his silky soft skin. It’s a sin. For him to be so…perfect. It isn’t fair to me or anyone else he has gotten to feel him. 

“Is this ok?” I ask him.

“You’re asking for permission to touch my dick while you’re touching my dick?” He says like he still finds me incredibly exasperating. “You wouldn’t be in my bed if it wasn’t ok, Y/N,”

I sigh, rolling my eyes. How can he be annoying even now. Still, it does nothing to the way I need him. Feeling him has only made it worse. I won’t lie, the banter turns me on too. I don’t think it would be the same if Joon was too soft. It wouldn’t be him. 

“Stand,” I command. 

“Why?” 

“Just do what I say for once,” I frown when he looks back at me, still refusing to move. His defiance might kill this before we can even get started. I sit back. With his eyes on me, I pull my simple cotton underwear and throw it with the rest of my clothing. I cock my eyebrow as he watches my movements, seemingly shocked.  

“I’ll be here whenever you’re ready, Namjoon,”

“Where’s the thing?” He gestures awkwardly with his hands. 

God, he’s so weird. Still, I can’t help but think he’s perfect. His passive aggressive jabs and awkwardness may be his only flaws but I don’t think I’d want him any other way. I hand him the condom that I threw on the bed and wait impatiently. He finally stands and pulls his bottoms off, his hand going down to cover himself as he climbs above me. Even with the coverage of his hand, its not hard to see just how big he is. Its not like I’ve ever doubted, but seeing it up close it definitely more satisfying than I could have ever hoped. 

His lips touch mine again, as he opens the foil package and pulls the latex out. He has it on quickly, wasting no time lining himself up with me. His hands smooth over my thighs and pulls them around his hips as he pushes forward. My hands squeeze at his hands, trying to get a grip on something. He hasn’t moved yet and already I’m a bit delirious. Maybe it’s because I can’t remember the last time a person looked at me like they wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but right with me. Maybe it’s because I’m gathering that Kim Namjoon is really, totally, completely my type. 

“Why can’t I stop kissing you?” He frowns to himself before kissing me for the hundredth time tonight. 

“You like me,” I manage to tease while still getting used to how good he feels. I don’t think I’m ready for him to move yet. He’s already too much, and I refuse to give in the satisfaction of making me come so quick. Not when I’ve waited so long for this. 

His hips snap against mine, immediately forcing me to drop my smile as my lips part. He builds a slow steady rhythm. It’s too slow, too languid, like he’s willing to make this last as long as it takes to drive me out of my mind. His kisses become messy, as his own lips part, a low moan of air brushing against my mouth. His hips still move almost painfully sluggish, like a drag. 

Like honey.

I throw my head back into his pillow as he reaches between us to touch me softly. He’s too much at one. His large body covers mine completely, his awkwardly long legs tangling with mine. While he holds himself up on his elbow above me, his lips never leave my skin. I’ve never doubted Namjoon to have a side like this, I just thought that it would never be for me to see. Right now kind of feels like a necessity that I do. I need to feel his hips pull at mine. I need to feel his thick lips take mine roughly. I need to have him. Even if I only get tonight, I know that whatever happens later it’ll be worth it. 

“You were wrong about Shakespeare,” he says suddenly. His hips snap against mine like he’s punctuating the statement and handing the pulpit over to me. 

It’s such a ridiculous statement to make at this exact moment that I have no clue what to say. I’m stuck between forcing him off of me just so I can tell him how wrong he is about Shakespeare as well as let him know how completely absurd it is to bring it up mid-thrust. But, it’s Namjoon. I sort of expect nothing less than ludicrous musings at the least opportune times.

So I take the bait. 

“Shakespeare is trite and he isn’t even the best satirical playwright and yet we a society celebrate him as such-, Fuck Joon,” I breath out as the rhythm of his hips pick up slightly. 

“Who’s the best satirical playwright in your opinion,” his breathing picks up as we both start to sweat.

Our bodies are slick, moving together smoothly as we both chase after the rising feeling in our stomachs. He’s bringing me higher with each push/pull of his hips all while having a ridiculous conversation about playwrights and satire; which if we’re honest we couldn’t care less about. There’s just no other way to be for us.

I pull away from his lips that move against mine again, missing the taste of his tongue the moment he disappears from my mouth. I try to answer his question but it only comes out in a sigh as he hitches my thigh high on his hip. His fingers press tightly into skin as I close my eyes.

“Are you relenting?” I hear the smug tone in his voice. “Have I finally shut you up?”

I shake my head. Even now, I refuse to give it to him so easily; especially when I know it’s exactly what he wants. “No, I’m just in awe you’re finally asking for my opinion on something,”

“So, who then?”

“You’re incorrigible,”

“You’re deflecting,” he tells me.

“Moliere,” I say. “Moliere is the greatest satirical playwright of all time. Shakespeare wishes he could touch Tartuffe with anything he ever wrote,”

“There would be no Moliere without Shakespeare,” Namjoon counters. “And besides Shakespeare is a dramatist, satire was a hobby and even then Moliere barely measures up,”

He’s sort of right, but as always I’m not going to admit it. I counter attack by tightening around him. Moving his heavy hand aside, I take over touching myself as he continues to move against me. As expected, I’m quicker to bring myself over the edge than he is. He pauses as I come around him, unable to handle both sensations at once. 

He curses lowly but its an illegible mix of English and Korean that I can’t begin to piece together. His face presses into my neck, as he presses his hips against mine and withdraws quickly. His rhythm is a little stuttered as he chases after his own orgasm. The competitor in me wants to win. There’s no definition of winning and losing during sex, but with Joon and I, everything is a game. Especially this. I use all my weight to roll us to the side, straddling his hips  before he can protest. His large hands hover above my hips, not quite touching my skin. His plump lips form an ‘O’ as I lower myself back on him. 

“Was this necessary-,” he moans louder than either of us expects, sighing as I rock my hips above him.

You’re so easy, Namjoon. 

I press my chest against his, taking a turn to kiss him dumb like he’d done me for the last hour. Two hands move up my back and tangle in the hair at the nape of my neck. He pulls roughly as my hips start to pick up the pace, set on making him come for me. It’s all I really want. 

“Y/n,” he breathes quietly.

I pull back, moving his hands back to my hips, urging him to use my body to make him feel good. I watch as his eyes close and his head presses deep into his pillow. His lips part slightly as and he holds me tight. He’s so close. I want to kiss him again but he looks too good. I can tell when he’s about to come as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, biting down hard enough that his pink skin turns white. 

“Let go, Joon,”

For once, he listens. His hips meet mine as he comes finally, his breaths coming out fast like he’s trying to refill his lungs. Unable to resist anymore, I lean forward and press my lips against his. He kisses me back roughly, wrapping his arms around my back to hold my body against his. I roll off of him, tired as well. As nice as it would be to spend the rest of the night in his bed, I can’t.

As if I wish them into existence, I hear the front door open and the sound of rowdy boys. I freeze, instinctually pulling the sheet off the floor and over my chest. Namjoon doesn’t seem worried. Slowly he moves my hair out of my face and kisses my temple before sitting up and swinging his legs out of bed. 

“I’ll keep them distracted. Come out when you’re ready,” 

I nod as he disposes of the used condom in the bathroom. When he comes back, he pulls the sweats up over his hips again before leaving me alone in his bed with too many questions. Is he going to tell them? Should we? I don’t have much time to think. I’m not sure exactly how many boys are back but I rather none of them find me in Joon’s bed; naked. 

I run my fingers over my lips as I gather my clothing off the floor. He’s still on my mouth, I can feel him. I can’t get the taste of him out of my head. I can’t get any of him out of my head. I should’ve thought this through. I’m addicted now. I need more of him; more slow kisses, more of his hips dragging against mine. More honey.