#chopsticks travel

[ilikedetectives]

Ended up using more Mandarin than Spanish to order food in Spain qhsjskwjshhaha

[slavic-roots-western-mind]

Chinese chopstick etiquette

There are certain rules for using knives and forks, so why wouldn't there be rules for chopsticks? Now that I know how to use chopsticks properly and (hopefully) without offending anyone, here are some main rules.

No playing with chopsticks In other words, using them like drumsticks and swordfighting with your table neighbour is not permissible (at least not in public).

No sticking your chopsticks up vertically into your bowl Shrines to deceased people usually have a bowl of rice or sand with 2 incense sticks sticking upwards, which is why sticking your chopsticks into your bowl can have similar unpleasant associations.

No pointing your chopsticks at people Pointing your chopsticks at someone is also a no go, as it's seen as hostile.

No digging around You should take from the top layer and avoid digging around the plate in search of the food.

No eating directly from the main plates You should first place the piece of food that you took onto your own plate, and then eat it, instead of eating straight from the source.

No tapping against the bowl Tapping against your plate is considered to be impolite and should be avoided when possible.

[viridiave]

So I've been playing Octopath Traveler 2 again. In Japanese. From the start. All over again. We know how this goes-

Temenos - god all you need to know is that if you thought he sounded gay as fuck in English he's even gayer in Japanese (Akira Ishida-isms?) BUT I have also heard a few of his more emotional lines in JP and uh - let's just say. He's a LOT better at screaming in JP. ENG Temenos is a hell of a lot more sarcastic tho he's a funny man

Ochette - so no shot to her English performances but god. I love her Japanese voice. She's the right amount of genki and quirky without sounding like a child and dkskkd ok I think she sounds cuter in JP come at me

Osvald - oh bless you Alejandro Saab I didn't know you were so good at grunting in a million different ways - tbh I can say the same for his JP voice actor but am I insane or does he sound softer in Japanese. Both of them are daddy tho vmfnfn

Throné - GOD I LOVE BOTH OF HER VOICES. Throné has the same Therion quirk in Japanese in that she'll switch between her serious voice and acting voice on a DIME and it's so pleasing to hear. I also appreciate how deep her voice sounds in both iterations UGH step on me lady

Castti - so earlier I said Teme was better at screaming in Japanese. I can say the same thing about Castti but for crying. It actually hurts my soul to hear her sound so lost. The only thing missing from her JP performance is that she can't say tHESE H A N D S

Hikari - I shall also say that Hikari is better at crying in Japanese! What the fuck I actually FELT that strangled scream he does when Tsuki dies in his arms and now I'm just thinking 'jesus boy I am sorry that you probably have constant nightmares about this night ala Olberic Eisenberg' - and uh Howard Wang is fine ig - I like his ENG voice a lot but JP Hikari. That emotion-

Partitio - Gotta say my hat's off to his English performance here fkdmdm his cowboy swag has charmed me completely. I can't really differentiate his JP voice from Alfyn's so - and I like the JP Alfyn 'I can crush your spine but won't anyway how are you doin fren' voice but it's also not that distinct vmfmf - Partitio's little stutters in English are also just. Chef's kiss

Agnea - I love her in both languages! Even if I do think her English performance is a lot better at the 'oh me accent's slipping' thing - I also appreciate that she doesn't sound like Tressa despite being the same age! Agnea actually sounds a lot older than her but retains the bright-eyed energy

BONUS ROUND

Crick - so I found out that Stephen Fu also voices Doma from Demon Slayer and I just. God I can't unhear Crick's protests of being called little lamb huh. I think I prefer it over his JP voice tho dkdkd but I appreciate the shonen protag energy in JP his screaming in battle has charmed me

Malaya - UGH. LADY. LADYYYYY. TOUGH LADY CAN BREAK MY NECK AND I WOULD THANK HER FOR IT - is what I would say for mostly JP Malaya like hot damn I was unprepared. I'm all for 'gently watches over Castti with a soft tired pining voice' Malaya in English though bless her soul

[thepastisalreadywritten]

[goingsparebutwithprecision]

Arrived at the onsen!

[rabbitcruiser]

National Chopsticks Day

Take part in an ancient tradition that has been around for thousands of years in the Asian culture by eating with and enjoying the unique experience of chopsticks.

National Chopsticks Day appears as a fun and fascinating reason to show appreciation for this little pair of utensils. So put down that fork, set aside that knife, and pick up these two little sticks that can usher in a whole new experience! 

History of National Chopsticks Day

Getting their start at least 3000 years ago or more, chopsticks originated in China and were first used as utensils in the process of cooking. With ancient roots, these convenient tools began to be used as a tool for individuals to eat noodles, rice, meat, vegetables and much more, probably around 400 BC. This was likely a time when resources became scarce and the food needed to be chopped into small bits to cook faster and save on fuel.

In the end, there was a need for some sort of tool to help with eating, and it was obviously a much-needed innovation because the tool began to spread. Chopsticks made their way from China into other Asian countries, like Korea, Japan, Vietnam and many others.

Originally made from bamboo, chopsticks have since been made from all sorts of traditional substances, including different types of wood, metal, ivory and ceramics. Of course, more recently, chopsticks have been made from plastics, resin, stainless steel and even titanium. In addition, chopsticks have been valued and appreciated for their beauty, particularly when they have been decorated with precious substances or painted with unique artwork.

By 1878, the disposable bamboo chopstick was designed by the Japanese, called “waribashi”. Many people don’t realize that the average person in China has typically used up to 200 sets of disposable chopsticks every year.

To minimize the use of disposable chopsticks and save the earth along the way, the Chinese government imposed a tax on chopsticks in April 2006. The tax of 5% was not only for those in China, but also spread from there into the places where the China chopstick makers export to, such as Japan or Korea.

Now, National Chopsticks Day is here to pay honor and respect to the longstanding, ancient tradition of using chopsticks as a cooking and eating utensil!

National Chopsticks Day Timeline

1700-1200 BC

Chinese people begin using chopsticks

Originally used in the cooking process, chopsticks function more like tongs in these early days.

400 AD

Other utensils are invented

Forks, spoons and knives begin common use as eating utensils.

500 AD

Chopsticks make their way to Japan

Making a stop in Korea first, chopsticks travel from China to Kyoto at the east end of the Silk Road.

1878

Disposable chopsticks gain use

In Japan, disposable bamboo chopsticks are created.

2006

China imposes a chopstick tax

To reduce wasting natural resources, China institutes a 5% tax on disposable chopsticks, which also had an impact on chopsticks exported to Japan.

How to Celebrate National Chopsticks Day

Take eating to the next level by enjoying National Chopsticks Day! Get excited about celebrating the day by implementing some of these special ideas:

Learn More About Using Chopsticks

While many Westerners are more used to using a fork and knife, one delightful activity for National Chopsticks Day might be to learn how to use chopsticks. For many people, it can require a bit of practice while the motor memory is retained.

Not only is learning how to use chopsticks an important cultural activity, it also could have other benefits. These benefits can include improving hand-eye coordination, teaching finger isolation and manipulation, strengthening the hand muscles, and improving fine motor skills. Some people even believe that using chopsticks can make the memory even better!

While considering chopsticks, consider some of this etiquette around the utensils: 

In Japan, it is rude to cross the chopsticks on the table or to stick the chopsticks vertically in a pile of rice.

In Taiwan, it’s poor etiquette to let chopsticks linger in the mouth or to bite on them.

The Chinese consider it to be poor form to spear the food with chopsticks or to tap the chopsticks on the bowl.

In Korea, it is rude to pick up chopsticks or other utensils before the elders at the table do.

Eat with Chopsticks

While chopsticks could certainly be tried with almost any kind of food (though perhaps a burger or a slice of pizza might be complicated), they are best when used to eat food that hails from Asia. Delicious food that is Japanese, Chinese, Korean or Vietnamese can all be appreciated when eaten with chopsticks.

Enjoy Some Fun Facts About Chopsticks

In honor and celebration of National Chopsticks Day, this is the time to increase that knowledge about these interesting little sticks. After learning some facts, go ahead and share some of them with friends or family members to raise awareness in honor of the day! Try out some of these fun facts and bits of trivia to get started:

Chopsticks are different in different countries. For instance, the chopsticks found in China are longer than those in other Asian countries, with wide tapered ends that make them slightly easier to use. Chopsticks in Korea have more of a flat shape, and those from Vietnam have an end that is more blunt.

Some people actually have an irrational fear of chopsticks! The name of this disorder is Consecotaleophobia and has been included in the field of psychiatry.

In the past, silver chopsticks were used by royal families in China to check for poison. Because certain poisons would cause the silver chopsticks to turn black, giving a forewarning of danger. Since then, silver chopsticks have been a sign of wealth, affluence and style.

Chopsticks have superstitions associated with them. As an intricate part of the Asian culture, some omens go along with the use of chopsticks. For instance, holding chopsticks completely upright is a bad omen. Also, dropping chopsticks is a sign of bad luck.

Purchase Some Fancy Chopsticks

One lovely way to celebrate National Chopsticks Day might be to make an investment in a new set (or several) of higher end chopsticks. Chopsticks can be made out of bamboo or other woods and then decorated in a variety of ways.

For instance, try out a set that is made from rosewood and then decorated with gold tips. Try some pairs made with lacquer that can then be personalized with the names of everyone in the family. Or, those who are very serious about celebrating the day might be interested in pure, solid silver chopsticks that are handcrafted and decorated with Chinese calligraphy. 

National Chopsticks Day FAQs

How do you use chopsticks?

Hold the chopsticks loosely at a slight angle from each other. The chopstick held by the thumb can stay stable while the other one is moved back and forth with the fingers.

What country did chopsticks come from?

Chopsticks likely originated in China around 1200 BC or even earlier.

Did chopsticks come before forks?

Yes. Forks and spoons were not invented until 400 AD.

Do chopsticks make you eat less?

People who eat with chopsticks may eat more slowly, which causes them to get fuller faster and eat less food.

Are chopsticks reusable?

Most quality chopsticks are made to be used, washed and used again for years, though some chopsticks are made of bamboo and are considered to be ‘disposable’.

Source

[snickers47]

Japan fears me

Italy hates me

[supercantaloupe]

my dad took me to a teashop this afternoon. please be proud of my restraint in not buying every single piece of ceramic in the store

[sakataai]

Also not including the previously mentioned items! I don't bring a purse around, I bring my whole-ass backpack, by the way.

I always have my iPad/Apple Pencil and a sketchbook and some pens and pencils, plus a mini writing pad. Then I also have a portable battery and 3 kinds of chargers (iPhone charger, mini USB, and USB-C). I also bring ear buds and earplugs (restaurants in downtown Vancouver play music LOUD and it has saved me more than once).

I also bring a water bottle, a granola bar, pack of tissues, Gravol, pain killers, lozenges, and allergy medicine, a pair of emergency underwear and a pair of emergency socks (wet socks are the WORST). On that note, an emergency umbrella. And hand sanitizer and extra masks are a must!

This also reminded me that I need to restock my disposable chopsticks because yes, they get a lot of use, ahaha. Also I just went grocery shopping so I need to make sure I remember to return my in-case shopping bag.

On convention days I'll also bring a hydrating mist and some basic make-up items.

@ people who carry bags everywhere what do you put in them what is there to bring other than chapstick, keys, phone and maybe a tampon why are you packing a suitcase to be outside for 5 hours

[chlorinecake]

imagine taking care of riki while he’s sick and he can’t resist the urge to give you kissies all over bc he’s so inluv with you :(

[Vitamin C]uddles —⊹ N.RK (西村力) 🛏️

Pairing… ⊹ ࣪ ˖ sick boyfriend!niki x gf!reader

Warnings… ⊹ ࣪ ˖ kissing, lots of teasing, fluff

Words… ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 521 -> “I’ll take care of you. Duh.”

Despite his usually intimidating appearance, Niki was a huge baby on the inside, and those attributes were only amplified whenever he wasn’t feeling well.

The poor boy had been sick ever since he got back from traveling, so you took it upon yourself to care for him until he got better.

“Hey, this needs more soy sauce… I can hardly taste it,” Niki whined, taking a dissatisfied sip from the chicken soup you ordered.

“Niki, there’s already so much in here that the broth turned brown. Now eat up before it gets cold,” you said, placing a napkin on the table tray beside him.

“I will, but only if you stay with me this time.”

You turned your head at his words, “Aww, d’you miss me?”

“No, I’ve been in bed all day and I’m just bored.”

“Riigght,” you said, spoon feeding him a glob of the grape flavored medicine.

He made a weird face, trying to get over the bitter taste of the cough syrup, “My God, that tastes like poison!”

You giggled at your boyfriends words, climbing in bed next to him with a large plate of assorted sushi rolls, “Try some with wasabi, too! It might help unclog your sinuses.”

Using the chopsticks, you dipped a sushi roll into the chunky green paste, bringing it to his mouth with an airplane motion.

You must’ve put too much, because his eyes immediately started watering as he ate it.

“Do you have any other talents aside from torturing me everyday?” He asked, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Yup,” you said plainly, escaping his side, “I’m pretty good at leaving sick people to fend for themselves.”

He watched as you walked toward the door, “Byeeee… wait! NOO!! I miss you already!”

“But you just said bye?”

“I didn’t mean it, baby. Come back please!! You forgot to give me vitamin C.”

“Vitamin what?” You asked, turning to face him with your arms crossed.

“Vitamin C… for cuddles,” he clarified, pouting.

“Fine,” you said sharply, “but only if you promise not to say anything else stupid… or mean.”

“Ok, ok, just stop stalling and get over here already!”

You walked back to the bed, lying next to Niki under the covers as he put the sushi platter on the bedside table.

“Wahhh, you’re so warm,” you giggled, your silly boyfriend swinging his leg over your body.

“Okay, now what are you doing?”

“Making a cage for you, my naughty little kitten,” he smiled, poking your nose.

“But I don’t like cages,” you sulked.

“Well then pretend it’s a seatbelt instead,” he chirped.

“Fine…”

“Double FINE! Can I get a kiss now?”

“What? No, what if you get me sick?”

“Then I’ll take care of you. Duh… and before you ask, yes, I promise,” he chuckled, resting his hand on your neck before cradling your face in his hand, leaving feather light kisses all over your face.

“Thank you for not rejecting my heebie-jeebies,” he said in between pecking your cheeks.

“Well when you put it like that, it kinda makes me want to,” you teased, squirming in his warm embrace.

More like this: Kisses with Riki in the dressing room

౨ৎ Thank you for reading this quick little fic, and special thanks to the lovely anon who requested this piece!

౨ৎ Feel free to check out more cute and fun reads like this at the pinned post on my blog :3

౨ৎ Tags: kinda got lazy here but bear with me ~ @squoxle @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @nikisdubblchococake

update 12/03: Thank you all so much for 1,000 likes!!

[thumblemina]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ content warnings: 18+ smut, mdni, fem! reader, fïngering, dirty talk, praise

✧˚ · . word count: 940

even if he can warp time and space at the snap of his fingers, silence and SATORU GOJO are never in the same room for long.

it’s when you’re tucked under his arm, nestled on the couch, and your eyes have been following the same line in your book again and again. he’s aimlessly scrolling on his phone next to you, and even though his eyes are blocked by those solid, round glasses, you know that it’s worse that he’s probably not even doing it on purpose. he’s completely eviscerated any attention span you could have and he doesn’t even know.

it’s effortless in the way most things are with him.

so you narrow your eyes on the words once again, forcefully shifting from letter to letter, and you’re almost two sentences in before he does it again.

he swallows.

and it's ridiculous. it’s obscene how something so simple as a swallow immediately shuts down any working faculty in your mind. you feel it. it echoes in your own body, down your own spine, between your clenched thighs.

something about the way that your head is so close to the column of his throat, your head rising and falling softly with his breath, that godforsaken swallow is ringing in your ears. the sound of him drawing the spit to the back of his throat, pushing it down, releasing that hot little breath. you’re almost panting. he’s not even trying and it’s irrationally pornographic.

and when you glance up, feeling your chest tighten, he reacts to your movement. but he just smiles, presses a kiss to your forehead, unknowing. you swallow your own spit, but it’s not the same.

saliva pools in your mouth and you want him to swallow it for you.

and it’s also when you’re standing by the kitchen counter, whisking together morning eggs in a small bowl with your chopsticks. gojo’s padding in behind you, but it’s not his footsteps that draw you away. his movements are silent, trained. it’s the fucking humming.

and it’s the way that it’s low, almost a touch rough, still saturated with the sleep he’s just woken up from. it rumbles in the base of his throat. something masculine you can’t describe. it’s not anything specific, but it’s fucking indecent.

even with your back turned, something about the sound feels like it’s crawling over your skin, heating your cheeks, completely unravelling any sanity you ever thought you had.

after being with him for so long, the one thing you’ve learned is that in may actually be impossible for gojo to be quiet.

which is why it’s no surprise that when he’s got you pressed up against the headboard, folded with your shins resting against his chest, he can’t keep his fucking mouth shut.

“fuck, you hear that, baby?” he asks, as if you could even comprehend anything else. he’s bullying two of his thick fingers into you, bright blue eyes intently following them right between your folds in a way that makes you squirm. “you’re so loud for me, and just for me, right? you’re such a fucking mess already.”

a whine builds in your throat, and you all you can muster is a pathetic nod. he’s curling his fingers so deep inside of you, pressing into places you can never reach, and the lewd noises he’s creating between your thighs only flusters you more. your face burns as you hear the wet slick against his skin. and as if it wasn’t enough, he pulls back, and a thick glob of spit travels from his kiss-bitten lips to your clit.

you almost scream.

“what was that, baby? speak up, i need to hear you.”

you can barely catch your breath when he smirks down at you, and then plunges his fingers deeper again. it all feels so impossible, tight and stretched and insane, you’re scrambling to catch a grip on the bedsheets.

“‘toru, i, i- nngh,” you babble, mind delirious, eyes squeezing shut. he brushes against that spongy spot he’s always so good at finding, and you keen.

everything in the room, his mocking laugh, your soaked thighs, your sharp gasps - it’s deafening.

“i know, baby, i know,” he whispers, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “you’re taking it so good, yeah? you’re being such a good girl for me.”

his thumb brushes over your clit, and stars burst behind your eyes. a desperate noise you’d never admit to, garbled and pathetic, leaves your mouth as you reach to pull him closer. you’re throbbing now.

“oh, is that good, baby? more of that?”

when you open your eyes, you’re almost knocked out at the sight of him leaning down over you, white locks falling into those illegally blue eyes. his pupils are blown out. you shiver.

you open your mouth, but as soon as you do, he curls those sinful fingers again and all you can get out is a choked moan. instead, you nod, trying to chase both the swelling, building feeling and his touch.

“c’mon, use your words,” he teases, and his grin only widens when you try to shoot him a pouty look. “only obedient girls get to cum, so you’ll use that pretty voice for me, yeah?”

the pad of his thumb is pressing down, circling your clit, and you gasp. “nngh, please - ‘toru please, more, i need more-”

in reward, gojo leans in and captures your mouth with his own, sloppy in the way that he licks past your lips. you sob in relief, returning back with just as much fervor as his hand picks up the pace. and then it’s just white, and then it's just him.

and you’d listen for a lifetime.

╰┈➤ a/n: can someone pls humour me and say that they’ve also felt turned on by hearing someone literally just swallow before and i’m not a freak (for that specifically at least) thank you (also as my first time posting T/T pls be nice)

[lbxbx]

Blackmail 2 | KTH

Pairing: Idol!taehyung x reader

Genre: smut, angst. Five shot

Synopsis: being part of their staff meant you had to be around them all the time, Taehyung has a checklist of all the girls he slept with and filmed and you were next on the list, as he lures you using several ways one of them being actually showing you the content he films, before you finally give in and he actually films you to tick you off of his list. Little do you know it’s the biggest mistake ever.

Disclaimer: events and incidents in this fiction are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. This does not resemble Taehyung’s character whatsoever.

taglist: @idkdudewhy @wisebouquetbarbarian @tan-veee @pookiej @xstfudaisyx @junecat18 @whipwhoops @mother2monsters @lil0u0

previous | next

“Put more on the grill.” You whine at your friends, you’re a little greedy at this point and a little tipsy. You and your friends were at a nearby barbeque restaurant in the city having pork belly and alcohol for your last night before travelling away to London for the tour.

“You need to stop eating.” Luna slaps your hand down so you drop the tongs and your pair of chopsticks. “You’re going to get sick and we have a flight to catch tomorrow night.”

You roll your eyes and hold the tongs again and put the last piece of pork belly on the grill, your group of friends were arguing over a major heated topic that you barely could hear when you’re sitting at the end of the table. “I can’t hear you.”

“She’s talking about her night with Kook.” Luna pulls your chair closer for you to hear Sona speak. “He’s incredible and charming and romantic. I’ve never had anyone like him.”

“He doesn’t film you nor do any weird shit does he?” One of the girls asks and right away you could tell that she’s talking about Taehyung which makes you scoff, and speaking of the devil he texts you at the exact second.

9:24 | KTH:

Wyd?

9:25 | KTH:

Wanna meet up tonight?

Your fingers type back immediately.

9:25 | You:

Can’t I’m out with my friends.

As if that’s the only thing stopping you from meeting up with him.

9:25 | KTH

We’ll hang out in your place when you’re done. Deal?

You’re a little too drunk to say no, so you actually end up on leaving him on read, knowing damn well he will join you even if you refused.

You get to your place and the alcohol is now running through your system and your body feels hot to the touch, you’re drunk, but not drunk enough to pass out or anything. You just feel loose and sleepy.

You don’t recall giving him your address but when you’re about to close the door to your place, the foot that stood in the way back in Osaka is now standing in the way again, stopping you from pushing the door  further to shut it. Of course it’s him, this time you could easily recognize him with only a cap covering his head.

He doesn’t hesitate to invite himself in as he speaks. “I love your place.”

You eyes roll to the back of your head when you huff,  and you close the door after him before putting your purse and phone down. “Did I tell you it was okay to come?”

“You didn’t tell me to come over.” He looks at you confused and you nod your head. “Yeah, exactly.” And he pouts. “I was done early with the rehearsals I thought I should drop by and say hi.”

“Hi.” You fake a smile before straightening your face. “Goodbye.” And as if that’s his cue to make himself comfortable, he yanks off his shoes and lands onto your couch. “I’ll have wine please.”

“We’re flying tomorrow we can’t drink.” You didn’t think this through before you said it, he laughs and tilts his head. “Honey, I can smell the Soju from over here.”

“Damn it, alright.” You go to your kitchen and grab a bottle of wine and one single glass for him.

“I thought you threw it away.” He calls from the living room and you rush out to see him holding the box that was near your apartment door, opening it with a smirk on his face and looking through the stuff. “I’m glad you didn’t, those are actually expensive.”

“I’m not into your weird kinky shit, Taehyung.” You put the wine bottle down and sit down onto your couch. He takes the seat next to you and puts the box down onto the coffee table, rummaging through the stuff inside until he fishes out the butt plug. Or vibrator damn it.

“Have you tried one before?” He asks as he turns on the little purple device and it starts vibrating into his hand, he keeps clicking a couple times to change the pattern before turning his head towards you. “Y/N?”

“No offense, but I think toys are pathetic.” You laugh, of course he’s offended, he even scoffs and shakes his head left and right, denying the fact that you actually just said that.

And to prove you wrong, he clicks once onto the device and now it’s pulsating in a different pattern, before he presses it against your vagina through the dress you’re wearing, the sudden contact of the purple device makes your entire body stiffen right away, you’re not sure if you felt like that before, you even hold the fabric of your dress into your fists.

Taehyung seizes the opportunity and wraps an arm around your shoulder as he leans his forehead against the side of your head, inhaling your scent and watching you suffer to hide that it actually feels fantastic.

He dares to click onto the device again and the pattern changes right away making you flinch in your seat, this pattern was stronger and more frequent and  faster than the one before, your body heats up and you feel yourself clenching onto nothing in your panties. Your eyes expose you as they shut down and your head falls back against the couch, and as Taehyung’s head slips away from your face his eyes now lock onto your lips.

The lips he stared at all the time from a far are right here in front of him begging to be kissed and bitten, and he goes feral once you bite onto your lower lip trying to stop the little whimpers that are about to escape your lips.

You can’t control your body anymore, you press your thighs tighter against each other which makes the tiny stupid device press harder against your clit that’s now throbbing into your panties, you’re already soaked there and if you actually stood up you can see the damp little spot on the back of your sky blue dress.

And Taehyung can’t control himself too as he finally presses his lips against yours and kisses you, he feels himself finally getting satiated as he sucks onto them, he roams his tongue inside your mouth and you surprisingly kiss back, which again makes him seize the chance and moves the device under your dress and presses it against your panties. Your breath hitches and your head falls to the side, exposing your neck to him and he dives right in to lick all the way from your collarbone to the back of your ear.

Your body tenses and the grip onto your dress is getting tighter, your breath is quickening and your ears are starting to buzz, it feels so tight in your stomach and you know you’re about to let go. “Mmm.” Uncontrollably escapes your lips and you cover your mouth using the back of your hand. “Are you gonna cum?” His deep voice rings into your ear, his hand that’s holding the vibrator moves left and right to add friction onto your cunt, it’s too overwhelming to you and you feel yourself seconds from cumming, so you hold onto his wrist and try to stop him, your mind is telling you don’t but your body isn’t even listening, you could force him to stop but you physically can’t.

The orgasm takes over your entire body and you feel your lungs deflating, you gasp for a breath and dig your nails into his skin, your sharp breaths are driving him feral and he could go down on his knees right now and beg to fuck you. “Right there, that’s it, cum for me.”

“St.. stop.” You barely whimper, as if the alcohol wasn’t enough for your face to be flushed red and now the orgasm screws you up even more. Taehyung doesn’t even move his hand away as he sees your body shudder next to him, totally overwhelmed by the intense orgasm, your head turns towards him with your eyes half open, his glance meets yours with the dirty smirk on his face, biting onto his lower lip and switching his gaze to your lips.

And holy fuck you have no idea what went through you, your head no longer functions and you can’t comprehend anything but the fact that you’re willing to do anything he wants. The way this man stares at you made you feel like the true woman you are, it made you feel sexy.

“So a vibrator is pathetic but a makeup brush isn’t?” He steals a kiss from your lips and finally turns off the vibrator and throws it onto the couch between you two, you clear your throat and finally relax your legs still trying to catch your breath before you speak. “I’ll do it.”

Jackpot. Honestly he knew you’d agree at some point so he saw it coming, he thought it would take him more time but it happened a little sooner than he thought.

A satisfied grin lingers on his face and he finally gets up onto his feet. “Excellent, make sure you pack these in your luggage, we’ll need it.” He points his head towards the box that had the costume, you clear your throat and get up. “Can’t it happen without it?”

“Trust me, it’ll feel ten times better when you’re wearing it.” He sounds convincing as he pinches your cheek lightly. “I’ll see you in London.”

Let’s just hope you don’t regret this in the morning.

-

You spent your entire day packing because this trip was the longest, your stomach keeps constantly dropping and tickling you when you remember what you agreed on the night before, a part of you wanted to actually back away and call it off, but the largest portion of you was clearly careless since this is just a one time thing.

You grab onto the velvet ribbon and untie it to reveal what the box contains, even when the entire thing is catchy to the eye, but still the purple device is where your eyes lands first, you curiously grab onto it and twist and turn it in your hands, before pressing onto the little golden button and it turns on, you audibly gasp as if you did it by mistake, but clearly you didn’t.

Did he send every girl he slept with a vibrator or what? You scoff and turn it off before shoving it into your suitcase, along with the little piece of clothing before closing your bag and putting it near your door.

Getting to the airport has always been this chaotic, you honestly had no idea why’d they put up their schedule anyway but hey, to each their own.

Right when you get to the security and your suitcase goes in for inspection on the belt, your heart drops when the guards ask. “Ma’am, does this bag belong to you?”

A little dumbfounded and worried, but still you answer even when you’re about to choke onto your coffee. “Yeah, it’s mine.”  

“Do you have something that’s battery operated in this bag?” The security guard asks as he’s taking the bag out from the belt, his hands barely touching the zipper.

And holy fuck you know what he’s talking about and fuck you Kim Taehyung for such stupid “Gift.”

Think Y/N, you better think fast.

Worst case scenario he opens the bag and it’s right there hidden between your clothes and you’re exposed in front of the entire staff that are right behind you waiting for their luggage to be inspected, what else could happen? Of course the security guards have seen these things before and you’re probably overthinking it, it’s just a toy for crying out loud, and of course he won’t just take it out and show it to everyone, or will he?

Fuck, okay you’re nothing thinking Y/N, because your suitcase is already unzipped and the guard is inspecting through it.

What else could be battery operated? How could you even convince him when he’s seconds away from embarrassing you in front of your coworkers and supervisors. Fuck it hurts more that another guard is standing right behind him and watching your bag being inspected. You watch their faces carefully waiting for them to show a reaction. God your walk through the gate will be a walk of shame.

“It’s an electric toothbrush.” Luckily he finds your toothbrush along with your water floss which makes the guard yell, “Next.” And close your bag.

Your face has already gone pale and you broke into cold sweat at just the thought of being exposed in public, your pounding heart in your chest feels like you climbed up 10 floors running and it takes a hot minute to calm down and you promise yourself that this can’t happen again.

You’re not even entirely sure that this is worth it to begin with.

Even when the long flight there was truly exhausting, with two stops and over 16 hours flying, it was more than enough for you to rest and maybe try and forget what happened earlier, you were insanely jet lagged and your body can’t buffer anymore, you can’t comprehend anything but the fact that you desperately need a bed to lay down on like right now.

And again you promise yourself that once you get to London you’re throwing away the stupid purple device in the nearest trash bin to avoid going through what happened earlier again.

Finally you get to the hotel room and you were lucky to have a king size bed all for you, you’re almost 9 hours behind your sleeping schedule so you quickly get into the shower and dive into the bed to catch onto some sleep.

Everyone was jet lagged and exhausted, the concert was still a couple days away so everyone had time to rest and time to take a walk around the city, you made sure to get enough sleep in order to go and explore London with your friends, and as you were having fish and chips on the streets your phone buzzes a couple texts.

5:53 | KTH

Done with the rehearsals, see u at 8 in my room and put the costume on J

It doesn’t take you seconds to reply with only thumbs up and sliding your phone back into your pocket, you need to head back earlier to your room to get ready, the man has slept with so many women that you feel the need to stand out in some way.

As for him? The usual routine before hooking up with someone nothing too special, a shower and a little clean up shave before wrapping the bath towel around his waist before he walks towards his carry on.

The sound of the zipper being opened is the only sound that’s heard in the room before he digs in to take out what he needs.

A couple Go-pros, handcuffs, blindfolds, his Nikon camera and a couple massage oils, and most importantly, his belt that he slides out of his jeans that he was wearing earlier. He takes one quick scan at the room trying to figure out where to hide the cameras.

The Go-pros can easily fit behind the table lamps on each side of the bed, and one near the TV, his Nikon camera hides pretty well in the closet that he leaves it’s door slid open enough for the lens to catch everything. He puts the blindfolds and handcuffs on the bed before putting his carry on back down onto the floor.

Taehyung doesn’t even bother to bring along condoms, he’s very hygienic and he knows you’re safe too, he did have to dig deep into your medical record that’s archived in the company to figure it out, but hey safety comes first. He never believed in condoms and he’s very careful when it comes to pulling out.

He takes one quick glance at the time on his phone and it’s already 8, so he takes one last spin around the room to click the record button on all the 5 cameras he set up.

He even sets up one last Go-pro near the headboard of the bed and finally hits the last record button, before scanning the room again to make sure that they’re all well hidden. And they really are, he’s been doing this for over a year now that he got so good at hiding them.

As for you, you were standing in front of the bathroom mirror admiring the way you look, your body is reacting upon your reflection and that douche was right. It already feels great to know that you look really sexy. In the back of your mind you were questioning yourself, are you really doing this?

You grab the bathrobe and put it on before leaving your room, you look around the corridor and the hallway is completely empty since everyone is either sleeping or having a night out. You had to take the elevator up in order to get to his room and you were on your tiptoes hoping that you don’t bump into someone when you’re wearing heavy makeup and a red lipstick, oh and in a bathrobe. You think it’s really obvious that you’re meeting up with someone and it probably is.

You make your way to his room and knock on the door, and there’s no answer. You look at the time and it’s a little past 8:30. You’re not that late and you’re pretty sure he’s in his room.

He is. He’s on the other side of the door watching you through the peephole and waiting for an entire minute to unlock his door, it was his sick way of teaching you a lesson to never be late, and when he says be there at 8, it means you have to be there by 8.

“Hey.” He opens the door and tilts his head inside. “Come on in, how are you?”

You’re fuming at the fact that you had to keep knocking on his door for a good amount of time and he knows you can’t be seen, specially that in the room next to him is probably one of the boys or one of their managers.

“What took you so long?” You get inside and rush to close the door behind you, the auto lock immediately activating and you hear it clicking shut. You don’t dare to look up from the floor when you clearly see him wearing only a towel around his waist, the idea itself was intimidating to you, you’re about to have sex with the man that millions of girls love and adore, and holy fuck he’s standing right there trying so hard to draw an image of what you look like underneath that little bathrobe.

“May I?” He stands behind you, his fingers fidgeting with the rope tied around your waist, and you clear your throat and nod a hesitant “Yes.”

He loosens it around your body and pulls it off of you ever so gently, you feel his breath hitting the nape of your neck and it sends shivers down your body that you shrug your shoulders up and shiver clearly making him laugh quietly. “You’re so cute.”

That wasn’t what you were hoping to hear when you’re all dolled up in the costume he bought, his eyes pierce down your shoulders and back, slowly taking his time to look down your ass, he cannot believe his eyes that it’s right there in front of him.

Now Taehyung doesn’t usually do this, he usually cuts to the chase and immediately gets to work but with you he took his time, he knows you’re new to this, your past experiences were considered quite trash to him, so he felt the need to butter up his bread and be gentle at first, before showing you his true colors.

“Did you get the rest of the stuff?” He asks.

“Yeah.” You hand him the stupid purple device that’s been giving you nightmares, he grabs it into his hands and walks inside to sit onto the bed, man spreading his legs apart enough for you to clearly see what’s under the towel. You take a couple steps towards the bed and he grabs onto your hands before pulling you towards him to sit onto his leg. “Come here let me kiss you.”

He cups your cheeks and pulls you in to kiss you once, the second time he licks your lips and bite onto your bottom lip and gently tugging it back before kissing you, his other hand running up your thigh and his fingers tracing the suspenders you were wearing softly.

Your hands stay onto your legs when you have no idea what to do, he pulls back and wraps one arm around your waist to pull you down onto the bed and getting on top of you. “Is this good?” He whispers, making sure that so far you’re okay and you are, and you barely whisper a ‘Yes’ before he continues, he spreads your legs apart to position comfortably between them, the big clear bulge in his towel now presses against your clothed core on purpose and holy fuck he’s rock hard.

He proceeds to kiss you on the lips again and you kiss back, hardly able to focus when he keeps poking and grinding against the stupid leather piece that you wish didn’t exist. “Mmm.” Your hand runs down his chest and the other wraps around his neck, your mouths merging together into wet kisses that are slowly turning into a sloppy make out session.

The pressure against your cunt also turns into grinding, and you’re pretty sure if he doesn’t stop you’d cum in seconds as this was really arousing to you. The pressure increases against your covered entrance which makes you hold your breath and pull back from the kiss, your head falling back against the bed.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck and kisses your ear, grazing his teeth against the shell as he whispers. “I’m going to fuck you senseless Y/N, you’ve never been fucked like this believe me.”

The man knows the piece you’re wearing like the back of his hand, he knows where exactly to unbutton it and pull it off of your body, this time he’s not teasing or going slow, he’s going all in and sliding it off of your body, leaving you wearing the stockings and the suspenders that are holding them up. A satisfied smug smirk sits on his face when his eyes burn through your entire body, wondering where to start? He cannot wait to put his mouth on you.

He carries you up using one hand and throws you to sit in the middle of the bed, you gasp when you feel something cold underneath your butt and you look there to find the pair of handcuffs that he had prepared. Your stomach drops when you see that not only he had the handcuffs prepared, there was a belt and a blindfold. You saw girls wearing something similar to it in the videos he showed you. “Taehyung no.”

“Baby I wasn’t asking.” The same smirk getting bigger, he does try a little hard to persuade you into it. “It will feel ten times better trust me.”

“I can’t put those on.” You argue back which makes him laugh. “Come on Y/N, we’ll have a safe word if you want me to stop, okay?”

“A safe word?” You scoff. “I’ll tell you to stop and that’s it.” And he takes that as a yes, he doesn’t waste a second as he grabs the blindfold and wraps it around your head, tightening it a little and asking. “All good?”

“Mhm.” You hum, your body tenses the moment your eyes get covered and you get anxious when you don’t know what he’s doing or the mere idea of when or where he’s going to touch you next. “I’m right here.” He grazes the side of your shoulder with what feels like the back of his hand as if he knew that you’re worried. “Give me your hands.”

It takes you seconds to put both your palms up towards him, he puts the handcuffs around your wrists and tightens them enough for you to not be able to rotate them enough. “Fuck.” You mumble when you realize you can’t see nor touch anything around you, and honestly you would easily panic but you had no idea what went through you, you were never into kinky stuff but apparently you’re willing to do it now.

“Fuck!” You gasp again when you’re suddenly pulled so your back fully lands on the bed, your breath hitches and your chest rises faster when you feel your legs being spread open. Holy fuck you can’t see anything, you can feel his hands on the back of your thighs and you can feel his hot breaths getting closer to your inner thighs too, but you can’t see his face and you probably won’t be able to see him savoring you.

You feel the wetness and the warmth of his mouth when he licks a long trail from your entrance to your clit, then moving lower to the inner of your thigh, kissing and sucking on your skin until the color changes into a dark shade of red. “Shit.” You start fighting the handcuffs and you can hear them clicking and behind that is the sound of him chuckling. “You’re doing good baby girl.”

He proceeds to wrap his mouth around your throbbing clit and flicks his tongue against it, moving his head to add more friction as he runs his hand on the back of your thigh. You taste so good on his mouth, he doesn’t waste a drop leaking out of your cunt and he licks you clean.

Your clenched jaw finally drops when he slides two fingers inside you and curling them against your spot, your legs automatically close and he forcefully spreads them back open and starts thrusting his fingers while using his thumb to rub your clit in circular motion as he kisses your inner thighs.

His eyes spot the Go-pro that’s been sitting on the nightstand and he reaches over to grab it and film your clit being fucked with his fingers up close. “Mmm, fuck.” The sounds you make are the cherry on the top to the clip he’s filming, he comes in closer to suck onto your clit and turns the camera to show it clearly.

As for you, you now know why he uses the handcuffs and the blindfolds. The element of surprise was really arousing, it felt insanely good to not know where you’re about to be touch, you had no idea what’s coming up next when your eyes were covered, and your restricted hands basically stopped you from either touching him or touching yourself, he wants to make you feel good on his own and he didn’t need help.

Even the second you started grinding your hips against his face he used his full strength to stop you and dive into your cunt deeper than before, which made your chest heave faster, you’re so near you feel your stomach getting tighter and your pussy keeps clenching around his fingers. “I need to cum. Taehyung please, don’t stop.”

“Mmm.” He savors every seconds he gets to taste you and his eyes even shut close at how fucking tasty you are, he pulls back to spit onto your clit and dive back in, you were a drenching wet mess in seconds when you cum, your head falls back against the pillow and your sharp breaths are now louder, your legs fight the urge to shut close so they start shaking. “Holy fuck.” Even when your hands are cuffed together, you were still able to reach his hair and tug onto it tight enough to make him go insane.

It’s all caught on camera and you had no idea, Taehyung was more than satisfied on what he got so far because you look like a fucking porn star and you sound like one. He hides the camera back behind the table lamp on the night stand and climbs up to kiss you on the lips.

You wrap your legs around him and you can feel that the towel is still on him, and you’re cheeky enough to fidget the top of the towel with your fingers and slide it off which makes you earn a spank onto your ass that resonates through the walls of the hotel room. “Look at my little whore being all greedy for my cock, you wanna taste that cock that’s going to fuck you until you pass out? Hmm?” You can only hear him and he’s already breathless.

And on regular basis you would’ve fucked up his face if he called you a whore, but in bed everything is allowed, including what you hear ringing right near your ear, is it the belt you saw earlier?

“Fuck.” Your entire body is turned so you land on your face, your arms uncomfortably sit underneath you and in seconds he realizes the problem and fixes it, lifting your arms up to sit above your head. You can feel the mattress sinking when he gets out of the bed and gets onto his feet but again, you being blindfolded meant you cannot expect what’s about to happen.

Him on the other hand grabs the same Go-pro again and gets closer to your ass, spanking it with his large hand and digging his fingers into it to jiggle it. His obsession with the female body had him go insane. He moves down to your feet and films them as he’s running his hands onto them and up your calves, slowly moving up to the back of your thighs and gets closer with the camera to film your swollen pussy and perked hole from behind.

He delivers another spank to your other ass cheek this time and moves up to your back, tracing his finger up your spine to the back of your neck, moving to your hair to collect it all into his hand and lift your face up from the pillow. “Look at that beautiful face, this is where I’m gonna cum.” And he spits onto your lips before stealing a quick kiss. “I’m gonna cum inside this big mouth of yours.”

You hear the belt again which makes your stomach clench, you’re high key scared and fucking ruined at the same time, do you really want him to spank you?

“Ha! Fuck!” You yell, squeezing the pillows into your fists when he spanks you with the belt onto your ass, it’s mixed feelings really, both painful and extremely arousing. “Again, please, do it again.” And now you’re begging him to do it again?

He delivers another spank right away onto the same spot and you cannot see it, but it’s already marked onto your ass and it’s dark red. “Please Taehyung, again.” And he goes right in, this time onto your other ass cheek and it feels so fucking good, you’re startled when he helps you get onto your knees to put your ass up with your face still down onto the pillow, and this time he spanks again, hitting your cunt with the belt and making you arch your back and moan his name off of the top of your lungs.

He finally puts the Go-pro down onto the night stand and positions himself behind you, totally proud of the marks he left onto your skin. He spits onto his palm and strokes his cock before pointing the head to your entrance, slowly teasing you by trying to push it in but you were clenching repeatedly. “Relax for me, will you?”

You try and obey but you can’t, especially when he keeps rubbing against you and touching you all over your body, it’s already making you seconds away from reaching another orgasm and your stamina wasn’t that good to begin with. He tries to push into you again but you’re way too tight when you’re all clenched. He grabs you by your hair to pull you up forcefully. “Do you wanna be fucked or not?”

“Yes please.” You cry out, he pushes you back into the pillow and this time pushes inside you even when there’s resistance to begin with making you gasp and arch your back right away. Your cunt swallows him inside and you feel him stretching you with every single curve of his cock, he’s fucking you raw and you were completely okay with it because it felt insanely good.

Fuck, your body is acting up on the stretch of his head inside you, your stomach feels tight and with minimal amount of grinding against him, you cum again and relax around him. “Holy fuck did you just cum?”

He doesn’t get an answer, but you being fucked up on the bed and fighting to catch a breath is quite the answer he needed. He takes one look to your cunt and pulls back a little, you’ve already creamed on the head of his cock and drenched him. “Fuck.” He pulls his cock entirely out and slides in one finger to taste your cum, he’s cursing under his breath because this has never happened with him.

“Fucking god please.” You cry out again when he pushes back inside you, this time pushing further more of his cock , the stretch is nothing like you’ve felt before and you’re not even sure you can take him full. You’re over stimulated and you haven’t even calmed down from your previous high and he’s not planning to give you any breaks soon.

“Fuck, look at that little pussy wrapped around my cock, it feels so good to fuck you Y/N.” He grits onto his own teeth, he pulls back and pushes back in making you arch your back again, he takes up his pace and in seconds you feel yourself chasing another orgasm, and the only way you can announce that you’re about to cum is using your mouth and you’re already choking up on words, so you slam your fists against the pillow repeatedly, which makes him move inside you even faster and fuck you’re cumming again.

It feels so good but holy shit it burns, you cry out his name with your tears that are absorbed by the stupid blindfold you have on, you sob out his name repeatedly and he can feel it, especially with your cunt constantly tightening around him and driving him crazy.

Your body no longer functions and your limbs start shaking, your lower body collapses onto the bed and his cock slides out of you, your legs shut tight to ease down your sore pussy and you’re still crying. “Give me a minute.”

“Shh, you’re okay.” He gets up onto his feet and pours you a cup of water, he sits near your head and helps you sit up to take the blindfold off. You squint your eyes at the sudden exposure of the lights and lift your hand up to try and grab the cup of water but your limbs are shaking nonstop. “You’re okay, it’s okay.” He helps you take a couple sips of water before putting the cup down. “Better?”

You barely nod your head, he inches closer to kiss you on the lips and neck, moving down to your chest and kneading it into his hand. “Lay down.” And you lay your back down on the bed, he adjusts you to dangle your head on the edge of the bed and gets up onto his feet, his enormous cock sitting in his hand while he’s stroking it.

He takes a step closer to your face and brushes the head of his cock against the side of your face and lips before pointing the tip to your mouth and with no words needed you open your mouth and it hurts your jaw when you try and take him into your mouth, the size on this man is incredible and you haven’t seen anyone this big before. “Good girl, let me fuck that beautiful face of yours.” And with no hesitation he thrusts his hips against your face forcing more of his cock inside your mouth.

Your gag reflex was something you weren’t so proud of, just as the tip of his dick reaches the back of your tongue you audibly gag right away and pull your head back. “It’s okay, you can do it.”

He forces his cock inside your mouth again this time the head hitting a spot deeper inside your mouth making you gag again and panic to catch a breath. “Taehyung—“

“It’s alright, don’t move.” He grabs onto your hair and pounds right into your mouth, the head now hitting your tonsils and down your throat, you start kicking your legs onto the bed and trying hard to pull back, but he’s got a good grip of your hair and he doesn’t stop and can’t stop. It feels so good to fuck your mouth and watching you struggle to breathe is arousing him even more. “That’s it, you’re such a good girl.” He breathlessly pants and pushes in one last time and holds inside, your face is already turning red and your tears are streaming down your face. You keep coughing against his cock but he doesn’t pull out, he delivers a slap to your cheek and pulls back. Your lungs inflate with oxygen again as you’re gasping for a breath and coughing.

“Your mouth feels so fucking good.” He leans forward to kiss you on the lips before climbing back onto the bed and turning you on your hands and knees again, positioning himself behind you and rubbing the head of his swollen angry cock against your clit and entrance. “I wonder what it feels like inside your ass.”

Your body stiffens again when you know you’re still not ready, your swollen cunt was still sore and hurting, your hands are still cuffed to each other so you won’t be able to support your upper half if you cover up yourself, “Taehyung wait—“ You panic when you feel the head of his cock pointing towards your hole, rubbing against it and wetting it with his own spit, he doesn’t give you time to object as he already tries to push in inside you, the tightness is killing him and his eyes roll to the back of his head when your hole tightens around his shaft.

As for you, you could swear you feel him in your back, it fucking hurts so good. Your back arches and you don’t realize it yet, but you’ve been holding your breath the entire time. “Holy fucking shit Y/N where have you been.” He whimpers, reaching for the massage oil to squirt some onto your ass, he gets really impatient and unscrews the lid before dumping the entire bottle on your whole body and throwing the bottle away across the room. “Don’t move.” Your voice so low, tears are accumulating in your eyes again at the insanely good burn, and with every grunt you let out, your hole keeps clenching around him in a stroke like motion which makes him grab the belt and wrap it around your neck to pull you in closer.

 “Fuck-“ You gasp when he wraps the belt tighter around your neck, the closeness already pushing more of his cock inside you making you scream his name and throw your head back against him. He seizes the chance and bites the shell of your ear while whispering. “I’m going to fucking ruin you Y/N, no one will make you cum the way I can.”

You’re totally fucked you can’t form a sentence, only whimpers and grunts escaping your lips along with sharp breaths, your hard nipples grab his attention and he doesn’t think again before delivering a slap to your tits making you sob out his name, you’re fighting against the cuffs again when you feel them getting on your nerves, you have to use your hands, you need to pull onto something or touch him, your nails are already digging into the inside of your palm hard enough that you’re bleeding making it burn when it mixes with sweat.

You completely lose it when the purple device enters your vagina still turned off, you look at him over your shoulders in utter disbelief, you’re already over stimulated enough without the stupid vibrator. “Taehyung please—“ At this point you’re begging for him to stop, but he doesn’t. He presses onto the stupid golden button twice, knowing exactly what pattern to choose to drive you both insane, “Please, please..” Your eyes meets his, he’s more than satisfied when he looks at your face, all glowing and flushed red, tears are already messing your makeup and your lipstick is smudged. “Cum for me.”

It’s physically impossible for you to cum right now, but he insists on making you cum for the fourth or fifth time tonight, so he pushes the rest of his cock into your ass and starts jerking his hips up against yours, the sounds of your skin meeting fills the room, his thighs and hips meeting your ass cheeks and slapping them with each thrust, and before you know it you feel your orgasm approaching which makes you roll your eyes to the back of your head. “Don’t stop.” You want to reach your end now and you find yourself grinding your hips against his, he pushes you down to land back on your cuffed hands. “Fuck yourself, come on.” He delivers a spank to your ass, finally halting his thrusts, and it takes you a moment to gather some strength and start pounding against him.

Holy fuck this is like a dream coming true to him, he even laughs and keeps spanking onto your ass. “That’s it, keep going.” He throws his head back and clicks again to change the pattern on the vibrator, this pattern is strong enough even when it’s inside your pussy, he could feel it through your walls and it sends vibrations through to his dick. “Keep going.” He grabs the belt and spanks your ass again making you jump in your place and tug onto the bed sheets, crying even louder when you feel yourself seconds away from letting go, the overwhelming pleasure controls your body and you can no longer move against him, you collapse on the bed and fight against the cuffs again.

He loses his patience and holds your hips into his hand to stay inside you as he leaves the bed to get into his feet, he uses both his hands to spread your ass cheeks apart before pounding into it again, this time furiously and not stopping whatsoever, your walls clench around the vibrator once more and you push onto your own core when you finally release your orgasm, your squirt gushing against his cock and thighs making him call out your name. “There you go, good fucking girl.” He rubs your clit and keeps fucking you through your orgasm. “Fucking god, please Taehyung, please..” You gasp for a breath and your walls clenching pushes the vibrator out of you, finally.

He couldn’t fight the impulsive thought of pulling out of you and going down on you, licking every single drop that fell out of your cunt down your thighs, savoring every drop that sits onto his tongue and swallowing it, before sitting back up and pushing back into your ass making you whimper when you feel yourself stuffed to the brim. And he pounds right back into you until you feel his breath quickening and his grip tightening on both your ass cheeks. “Come here.” He pulls out and grabs you by your wrist to get down on your knees to the floor, he grabs the keys from the nightstand and finally takes the cuffs off of your wrists. “Hold your tits out for me and open your mouth.” And your fucked up and fogged brain can’t process anything he said until he man handles you and forcefully makes you obey what he said, sticking his fingers down your throat while he gives his cock the last couple strokes.

You throw your head back and fight the urge to close your eyes when you’re gagging just to look at him and watch him cum right before your eyes, he shoots the first white ribbon onto your face and his balls keep clenching while he’s shooting out the rest of his cum, some end up falling on your chest and the rest goes down your mouth and throat.

And it tastes fucking horrendous.

He looks down at you with his hair all frizzy and all over his face, with sweat dripping down his forehead and even the tip of nose, down to his neck and chest. “Swallow.”

And with his cum still in your mouth you shake your head, you need to spit it out quickly because you can’t handle the taste. People must be lying when they mentioned that it tasted good but that’s total bullshit. “I said swallow.”

You’re about to reject again but he forces your mouth shut and covers it with his hand. “Swallow Y/N.”

And you were forced to swallow even when you’re clearly gagging in front of him. “Good girl.” He grabs his towel from earlier and pats his face dry. “You can go back to your place.” And just like that he enters the bathroom and you hear his shower water running leaving you on his bedroom floor.

You crawl around the room looking for your bathrobe and struggle to put it on, before gathering enough strength to get up onto your feet and leave the room, luckily it’s still late so you won’t be seen around the hotel, and just when the elevator door closes you could swear you heard Hoseok shout. “Hold it.” From a distance, but of course you wouldn’t let him see you like this.

You click the key card to your hotel room and close the door shut behind you, rushing to the toilet and throwing up what you swallowed earlier. You were pretty sure it wasn’t staying in there.

-

You had to get room services twice so they can keep you nourished with soup and warm liquids, and 3 tabs of painkillers and couple hot showers away, you were able to go to work today but you had to walk slowly and get up slowly.

“Good morning.” Taehyung and Jungkook walk into the room with wide smiles on their face, Taehyung putting his phone back into his pocket before throwing his top off and taking his seat onto your station.

“Good morning.” The girls on the station next to you answer them both and you just get to work, nothing personal really, but your tonsils were killing you from what happened the night before.

“Good morning.” Taehyung repeats, looking at your reflection in the mirror and curving his lips up into a little smile, you mirror his smile and nod your head. “Morning.”

“She’s not feeling well today.” Your friend Leah elaborates while she’s working on Jungkook’s face. “Oh no what happened?” Jungkook snaps his head towards you, Taehyung of course knows why so he doesn’t ask.

“The weather got her and she’s having a sore throat.” She adjusts Jungkook’s face and proceeds to work, “I’m alright, she’s just exaggerating.” You force a smile and start dabbing some primer onto Taehyung’s face, while you’re too focused on your job he clears his throat and whispers. “You alright?”

“Mhm.” A simple answer that was more than enough. “If you need anything I’ll be glad to help.” He glances at your face, at this point he’s just feigning this caring personality just to get you to do it again with him when you two are back home. He regrets his promise that this is going to be only one time.

“And by the way, you forgot your uhm.. device, in my room last night.”

“Goodness, please keep it.” You argue right away before laughing. “I don’t think I need it anymore, and I don’t think carrying it around in my suitcase back to Seoul is a brilliant idea.”

He chuckles and leans his head back, “What do you think about last night?” And you nudge him when you feel Jungkook’s eyes on you, he absolutely heard him and now the two of them are waiting for your answer.

“The flight? It was exhausting.” You laugh awkwardly, clearing your throat and turning away to grab the rest of the makeup brushes.

But what you don’t see, is Taehyung smirking at Jungkook and winking him, making the younger nod and give him a thumbs up while mouthing him. “Good choice.”

Last night right after he was done with his shower, he looked around the room knowing it’s empty since he heard the door locking when he went in earlier. He takes a spin around the room to turn off all the Go-pros  and collect them along with his Nikon camera, he calls room service and they’re up in seconds to clean around the room like it was never touched, of course making sure to hide suspicious things before any of the staff enters.

He takes a seat around the little coffee table near the window and turns on his iPad to download the videos of the several different angles he filmed. And of course this isn’t his first time doing it, a quick touch to the movie maker with his apple pencil before he edits the clips, cuts some and mixes some, to produce your own sex tape.

He clicks his tongue at his own dick that’s sitting in his boxers when it low key twitches at the sight of the movie, he can easily cum again if he wanted to, but now is not the time. The tape is around 38 minutes even after cutting some clips, and holy fuck he could watch it again and again.

And on their way to the stadium this morning, him and Jungkook started sharing their experience the night before, Jungkook mentioned something about sleeping with two locals from London, and Taehyung of course had to share his own experience and explicitly mentions you.

“So did you get it on tape?” Jungkook asks and Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Of course I did, I have it on my phone you wanna check it out?”

“I don’t mind.” It was 10 in the morning but the younger didn’t mind watching a sex tape in a car that had staff in it, Taehyung unlocks his phone and dims the brightness before handing it to Jungkook along with one of the airpods.

Jungkook hasn’t seen anything as animalistic as this, of course he did see other tapes before that are made by Taehyung too, but you weren’t like any of them. The sounds you made, your body, your crying and your whimpers. “She can squirt?” Jungkook’s doe eyes pierce through the phone.

“Hey, I made her squirt.” Taehyung of course takes credit for that. He lost count of the women he slept with, but none of them squirted, none of them gave Taehyung a boost of ego like you did. “How many times did she cum?”

“I don’t know, probably four, five? I lost count.” Taehyung carelessly shrugs. “It was insane.”

“That’s incredible.” Jungkook skips the video for his own sake, totally not the time to have an erection and it’s still too early in the morning. “Do you think I can get her to do anything with me?”

“She gets weird about me telling anyone about it, but I don’t know you can try.” Taehyung grabs his phone from Jungkook and locks it.

And as they both got into the stadium and Jungkook sets his eyes on you, he looks at you differently now, wishing he would spend a night with you and secretly thinking about offering you money to do it.

“Good choice.” He mouths Taehyung and throws his head back to finish his makeup.

The moment Jungkook looks at you, Taehyung asks you again. “But no really, what do you think about last night?”

You take one last glance at Jungkook who’s attention is finally averted off of you before you answer. “Not bad.” Taehyung knows you’re teasing, so he laughs and nods. “I’m glad you think so. But you clearly have a limb from all the pounding, and your throat is clearly swollen from all the face fucking.”

“Shh.” You hit his shoulder. “Someone could actually hear us.”

“Alright. But hey, you have to have your device back, I’ll carry it in my luggage if you want to and I’ll hand it back to you when we’re home.” And you totally don’t mind, as long as you avoid any possible chances of embarrassment in public.

[kithtaehyung]

minted: part two (snippet) (m) | myg

snippet: minted: part two (m) pairing: street king!yoongi x street vendor!reader rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , action ; haegeum au , gang au series: masterlist | part one summary: after a whirlwind of a detour, you have second and third thoughts about the guy you saved. who even is this man? and what the hell is in that bag? note: holy shit, y’all. thank you so much for the love on this series already! it’s been a minute since we started a new series here, so nerves were firing on all cylinders. but you all showed out and gave me enormous relief and motivation to keep going, so thank you! enjoy this snippet since i missed the initial part two drop! note 2: this series is for @sailoryooons, @joonary, and @minttangerines! love you all! warnings: language, violence, weapons (guns/knives/chopsticks/etc.), blood/wounds mentions, drugs, alcohol, trauma, poor reader :(((, mint!yoongi, haegeum!yoongi, tatted!yoongi, his eyebrow is pierced, yoongi visuals in this one areeee…, tension, tense situations, crass af yoongi lol, reader is also a baddie but who is shocked, slow burnnnn est. drop date: september 16th, 2024 snippet word count: 1.5k est. total word count: 9k >:))

—

—

There’s something to be said about the human gut. 

Not because it’s the source of multiple health aspects, or the way it’s connected to the brain. 

But, other than when violence tears it to shreds, it can be quite the defense mechanism. Just like yours churns and churns with each mechanical click of the elevator shaft.

Who is this person next to you? 

Who exactly did you decide to follow upstairs hours ago, killing your daily life to save and join on the run? 

You don’t know if you released your hand or if Yoongi let it fall, but you take this unlinking to create space. As you slide your gaze toward your companion, he merely shifts his weight and finds interest in increasing, beeping numbers.

How can someone’s profile be so troublingly handsome? You’d be able to think more clearly if he wasn’t both attractive and dangerous. Or if you simply weren’t on the verge of collapse.

Frankly, if you didn’t just murder a man you’d pass out as soon as you took too long to blink. 

To keep yourself alert—and to hopefully gather some much needed intel—you suddenly question aloud, “Where are we?”

No answer.

Alright.

“That driver called you Agust,” you recap on a second go. “What was that about?”

All Yoongi does is stare at his reflection in opulent, dim mirrored walls. Or whatever else he’s doing besides talking. 

Okay. Well.

You can face forward, too. 

“Those guys after us,” you try a third time, because who are you to give up now even if he radiates annoyance. “They didn’t look like Crane.”

“Doesn’t mean they weren’t.”

Your neck almost snaps when you turn. “Are you kidding me?”

As you watch Yoongi scorn the ceiling again, you can’t believe he doesn’t agree. 

Mm. Does he?

From the flex of his jaw, you have to assume you’re right to some degree. Because it looks like he’s very, very bothered by the people that chased you down. 

If those weren’t any of the high-powers but had equal resources and numbers…

What the hell were they? Where did they even come from?

Geez, it’s freezing. Is a drop in temperature the best barrier to you making sense of things? You can’t even appreciate the way Yoongi’s veins protrude with every adjustment he makes to that mysterious duffle bag.

Lies. You absolutely can. But there’s no way in hell you’re ever complimenting that. Or anything about him anymore because he clearly doesn’t want anything to do with you! 

Why did he even hold your hand? Was that just a ploy, too? 

But that taxi drive…

Yoongi looks down before lightly scuffing his shoe, and both of you fall silent as you finally give up with a huff. 

Massively dehydrated. Sore. Still covered in a myriad of unmentionables and now being ignored by the guy you saved. 

All you wanna do is go home, and you don’t even know where that is. 

How far did you travel? What district is this? You’ve never heard of a grey zone, but they seem fairly peaceful even at night. Neutral enough for you to consider relocating even if it meant sleeping on the street.

That brings up another question. “If we’re in a grey zone, how did you know—”

A ding interrupts your last thought, and you look to see where you ended up.

But the elevator doesn’t say a number. Only letters? What kinda floor did you stop on? 

One thing’s for sure, though. Whatever room you end up getting, if there’s only one bed you’re hogging it or taking the…

Floor…

There are many things that have shocked you in your lifetime. Many things just from today that had your head positively and forever reeling. 

But when the elevator doors slide open, you can’t even fathom what the fuck you’re dealing with. 

And in this second, more than ever, you understand how ludicrously out of your element you really are. 

“Holy shit,” you blurt, barely hearing the huff at your side.

Don’t elevators usually open up to hallways? Why are you walking into an entire living space? Is this a real place people choose to sleep in for a night? A whole floor?

Forget a whole floor, it’s a whole other place.

You slowly survey everything, wondering how much this has to be because you have never seen a living space so big. Or pretty. Or anything like this.

The ceilings vault and the furniture looks nothing like you’ve ever seen. Everything looks pristine. Clean. Is that a whole kitchen?

How are there living arrangements this big? This one place is bigger than your entire apartment level back home. 

And here you are: speechless, virtually homeless, and dragging your filth onto white marble floors. 

Perfect.

“What.” 

You turn at the scrape of Yoongi’s voice, wondering why now is when he finally chooses to acknowledge you. Head pounding, you ask outright, “Who… Who even are you? What is this place?”

He levels your stare before walking towards a long couch, dumping the duffle and raking his hair back in minted waves. “There’s a shower in every bedroom. Take your pick.” 

…Is that really his only response?

“That’s not what I asked,” you fire back, wondering what the hell his problem is so you can add more out of spite.

“But it’s what you need.”

“Say what now?” 

The fucking nerve? Even though you obviously, desperately need one, hearing him mention it makes you wanna re-use the chopsticks in your pocket. 

But Yoongi simply waves you off, grabbing a remote and flicking on a television so wide you would struggle to reach both ends. 

This is all too much. 

“You know what I need? To go home,” you huff out, leaving fire in your determined trek to the elevator. “Have a nice life, Yoongi. Or Agust. Whoever the fuck you are.” 

You get to the door and run into a dirt-slicked forearm, and the voice you hear courses through your ears, “The fuck are you doing?”

“Shouldn’t be that hard to figure out.”

“You serious?”

“Yes, I am. So move.”

Yoongi pauses, jaw working overtime before he steps aside wait he’s gonna let you go that easily? 

…Oh.

That was certainly not what you expected, but what else would you even think? This isn’t one of those stories that ends perfectly after trials and tribulations. Yoongi has proven more than once—in mere hours—that he’s no regular civilian. Nor man, for that matter.

But despite that, you blink before freezing at a terrible realization. 

No matter how you slice it, you’re much better off with him than you are by yourself right now. Even if he is a secretive criminal with a smoking gun. 

He did keep you alive that whole chase.

But there’s the smallest, tiniest chance that you aren’t quite safe with Yoongi, either. You don’t even know who he is anymore—maybe you never did.

So in a quick decision, you skim his side to slap the elevator button, chucking daggers at his brows until he leaves you to wait alone.

Good. You don’t need this. You can find your way back to your city block somehow and live the life you’ve chosen to lead again. 

Yes. You can do all of that by yourself. The chase is done. 

And so is your story with the man that will never buy your tangerines again. 

Grabbing your sleeve, a second fact stings your fingers. A jacket woven in Dragon teal. 

Shit. You need to ditch this, too. Either right now, or before you get the hell out of this grey zone because if you don’t, this is the biggest target you could ever have on your back. 

No good. No good no good you didn’t plan any of this well at all. Fucking pride blinding you to everything else logical. Is this how your story ends? Because of regret and resistance? 

You wait for the sliding doors, about to leave the biggest room you’ll ever see to occupy a box. How poetic. 

Your heart pounds as you close your eyes. Yoongi just cut you loose; it’s obvious he doesn’t care so why should you? No going back now. You’ll figure it out. The doors are finally opening. 

And someone’s inside?

Wait.

Your brain both whirrs and skids to a halt at the sight of the staff member occupying the elevator. When they give you a look, you find your hand drifting towards your back pocket.

Fucking hell, relax. You should be safe with a hotel employee, right? They wouldn’t be out to kill you. This is just your adrenaline on its haunches. 

However, one foot in the elevator and your senses go haywire. 

Because you can’t do this alone. You aren’t nearly as prepared to brave this foreign space as you need to be. With red in your hands and Dragon on your back? Absolutely not. 

You bow to the hotel staff before you face forward into the expanse. 

And as the doors start to close, you see Yoongi’s stare over his shoulder, storming with emotions and words you can’t name.

Yeah.

You fucked up.

Fuck.

-

-

tbc. :))

-

are we ready for the drop?! | join the taglist!

a/n: this is just the beginning!! who knowwwws what's gonna happen during the rest of the 9k+ lsdkfjdskl thank you all so much for hanging in there for me as i navigate multiple hobbies and endeavors. it means a lot to see your words of encouragement! always appreciated, and i hope you look forward to the real drop hehehe. more links: masterlist

[thir10th]

All yours - October writing challenge day 9

summary: you run into an old friend of yours, somehow it makes Emily want you more tw: none just super fluffy fluff a/n: yk this ep in season 1 where they go to ny, and to a sushi restaurant, and Spencer can't use the chopsticks? it's by far one of my favorite scenes in the whole show.

Even though most of the time traveling for cases sucks, there are moments when it makes you feel like the luckiest person in the world. Those moments are usually old sushi restaurants in New York.

Even with the case still open, you don't even feel a drop of guilt enjoying the night out.

Morgan orders something he can't pronounce the name of "just for the thrill of it", Rossi has an irrationally expensive liquor, and Spencer tries (and fails) once again to use the chopsticks.

So the night seems good enough, and then you feel a hand on your shoulder.

High school freind, you haven't seen her since, wow, how much now? Really?! ten years seems like waaay too much, it can't be!

You sit up to talk to her, feeling how the conversation on your table resumes quickly, except of course for those penetrating, deep, warm, chocolate eyes of your girlfriend, the one's you have melted in many times before, and can now feel resting on you, so attentive to the conversation taking place mere feet away from her.

You say your goodbyes, really it wasn't that bad, just a quick hi, hello, how have you been? a partially honest promise of calling to hang out whenever you get back in town, and that's it. However you do feel you phone buzzing, and then the fast and possessive hand of your girlfriend resting on your thigh as soon as you place your napkin back on your lap.

Ems 💖: She’s looking at you like you’re a snack. 😒

You: Yeah, it’s been a while! Just catching up.

You try to sound casual, but Emily’s brow furrows slightly, her gaze still fixed on you.

Ems 💖: Catching up? More like she was sizing you up.

You chuckle, leaning closer to Emily.

You: You’re imagining things. She’s harmless!

You can see Emily's quick fingers typing the response, trying to manage with only one hand, because you know that one's not coming off your lap.

Ems 💖: Harmless? Did you see how she was touching your arm?

You can’t help but smile at her jealousy.

You: Emily, come on! It was just a friendly gesture.

Emily rolls her eyes, but there’s a playful smile on her lips as she types back.

Ems 💖: Friendly, huh? Old friend or not, she’s way too touchy. She just put her hand on your arm. 🙄

You: It's just friendly!

Ems 💖: I don’t like the way she’s smiling at you. I thought I was the only one allowed to make you smile like that. 😤

You: you have nothing to worry about, babe

Ems 💖: You can't expect me to be fine when other people try to get in my girlfriend's pants, especially when it comes to other women.

You reach for her hand, giving it a squeeze, enjoying the way her thumb rubs soothingly against your skin.

You: I know you are, but you don’t need to worry.

You insist, and her smile widens, but she can’t quite let it go.

Ems 💖: I just want everyone to know you’re mine.

You laugh softly, leaning in closer so you can feel her.

You: I promise I’m only yours.

She bites her lip, a teasing glint in her eyes as she types again.

Ems 💖: Good, because if I see her again, I might just have to remind her who you belong to.

You laugh, shaking your head.

You: You’re adorable when you’re jealous.

Emily leans back, crossing her arms playfully, a mock-serious expression on her face.

Ems 💖: I’m not adorable; I just care about you!

You give her a knowing smile, then tease her a little.

You: So what happens if I run into her again?

Emily leans in closer, her gaze intense but playful.

Ems 💖: If you run into her again, I might just have to claim you right there.

You smirk, enjoying the banter.

You: Well, I guess I’ll just have to be careful then.

She nods, looking pleased, and you can see the playfulness in her eyes.

Ems 💖: Just remember: I don’t like sharing.

You can’t help but smile back, leaning in just a little closer, enjoying the electric tension.

Ems 💖: So, if you ever get in a situation again...

Her voice drops to a playful whisper, eyes sparkling.

Ems 💖: ...we’ll see.

You know she's joking, it's not like you hate it, there's always the feeling that this all comes from an insecure place, but you're not at all against the rough sex that usually comes with it. Definitely not against it.

You've almost forgotten when you get back to the hotel, using the key car to open the door, Emily lets you go in first and closes the doo behind her.

"I'm so full i might just roll down to bed" you say, stretching your arms, when you feel the warm presence of Emily's body against your back, her arms instantly wrapping along your waist.

It makes you jump, but you immediately turn around to welcome her embrace, surrounding her neck with your arms. he wraps her arms tightly around your waist, pulling you close as you both stand in the hallway.

The kiss she gives you is way too intense to be casual, you happily correspond, and you have to actually pull away to talk to her.

"Wow, where is this coming from?" you ask, your hands playing with her hair.

"What? I can't just kiss my girlfriend because i feel like it?" she asks defensively, and leaves a kiss on your cheek.

You laugh when you realize, you just can't help it, you separate your body from hers as much as she allows you so you can better look at her. "You really got jealous did you!?"

Her chuckle sounds so fake she can't even believe it herself "

Maybe just a little. I didn’t like how she was looking at you.”

You can’t help but smile at her possessiveness. “You’re cute when you’re jealous, you know that?”

“Cute?” she replies, raising an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smirk. “I’d say I’m fiercely protective.”

You reach up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, your fingers lingering against her skin. “Well, I think it’s adorable.”

Before you can say anything else, she pulls you closer, her arms tightening around your waist as she presses her body against yours. The warmth radiating from her feels intoxicating, making your heart race. She tilts her head slightly, and her lips find yours again—this time, the kiss is hungry and desperate, filled with the tension that’s been building all night.

You respond eagerly, kissing her back with the same intensity. The hallway fades away as you lose yourself in the taste of her lips, the softness of her body against yours. Every brush of her mouth sends a thrill through you, and you can feel her pulling you deeper into the moment.

“Emily,” you breathe against her lips, pulling away just enough to meet her gaze. There’s a spark in her eyes, a playful glint that makes your stomach flip.

“Hmm?” she hums, her hands finding their way to your hips, her fingers digging in slightly as if to ground herself.

You take a moment to catch your breath, heart racing. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she teases, her voice low and sultry. “I just want to make it clear that you’re mine.”

With that, she turns you around, her warmth enveloping you as she gently guides you backward until your back hits the wall. The contact sends a rush of excitement through you. She stands before you, a fierce look in her eyes, and without hesitation, she pulls you onto her lap, her legs wrapping around your waist.

Your heart skips a beat at the sudden intimacy, and you feel a rush of heat bloom in your cheeks. “Emily!”

“What? Too much?” she asks, her voice playful but sultry, her breath warm against your neck as she presses you closer.

“Never too much,” you reply, laughing softly, your hands instinctively gripping her waist as you settle into her lap.

“Good,” she murmurs, leaning in for another kiss. This one is deep and passionate, her hands threading into your hair as she tilts her head to deepen the kiss. You melt against her, your body instinctively responding to her closeness.

As you pull away, breathless and smiling, Emily's fingers dance along your arm, tracing the lines of your skin. “I just want everyone to know you’re mine,” she whispers, her lips brushing against your cheek, sending shivers down your spine.

You chuckle, leaning in closer to whisper in her ear, “Believe me, everyone knows. But I think I need to remind you just how much you mean to me.”

With that, you capture her lips again, your hands finding their way back to her waist. She lets out a soft sigh against your mouth, encouraging you to kiss her deeper. The world around you fades, and it’s just the two of you, lost in your own bubble of warmth and connection.

“Maybe we should take this to the bedroom,” Emily suggests breathlessly between kisses, her voice teasing but laced with desire.

“Maybe we should,” you reply, grinning against her lips as you pull back slightly to look into her eyes, feeling that electric connection.

With a playful smile, you both begin to move toward the bedroom, Emily holding tightly onto you, her body pressing against yours every step of the way, as if she can’t get enough.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.───

Clingy Emily, you will always be famous. Thank you for reading! Like, reblog and review if you liked it!

[goingsparebutwithprecision]

Welcome to the robot samurai cabaret!

[ylangelegy]

haven't we met? ♾️ minghao x reader.

“wherever you are in the world, i swear i'll find you again.” # day one of (the)8 days of minghao.

☆ includes: mentions of death/calamities. soulmates, body swapping, time travel, delayed ripple effect, references to chinese mythology, light angst. this is inspired by & heavily references makoto shinkai's film kimi no nawa/your name, but it's not required to have seen the film to understand the plot. word count: 9,000+

It’s a Wednesday when Minghao wakes up in a room that isn’t his.

He doesn’t immediately register it. His senses come to him slowly; the sun is warm on his face, supposedly streaking through the windows. 

But then an alarm blares, and it’s an alarm that’s decisively not his. It’s loud and oppressive. The complete opposite of the gentle tinkling of bells that he sets for his mornings. Minghao peels his eyes open before blinking blearily up at a ceiling that’s in a shade of dark green. 

Odd. His ceiling is supposed to be beige. 

Minghao finally manages to sit up, to glance around. The room he’s in is not his. It’s much more disorganized and the furniture’s a bit more old-fashioned. He lets out a slight exhale. 

A dream, he thinks wearily. I’m dreaming. 

Minghao can’t help but think that it’s a particularly realistic dream as he unsteadily gets to feet. As he pulls aside the sheets that had covered him, he notices snatches of a body that isn’t his, either. Lithe legs, painted toenails. 

I’m dreaming I’m someone else, he thinks. It happened, didn’t it? One might sometimes dream from the perspective of a stranger, a friend. 

Minghao’s attention is drawn to a half-full water carafe on the bedside table. Without much thought, he reaches for it— before smashing it onto the floor. Free will, baby. 

Except—

He feels it. The wetness lapping up at his feet. The shards of broken glass flying in all directions. Something closes up in his throat. Did he usually feel things in his dreams? Had he eaten something weird, drank something the night before, to have him dreaming like this? 

The door to the room swings open. 

A silver-haired woman stands in front of him, now, her face pinched with worry. She says a name— a name that isn’t Minghao’s— and asks, panicked, “What happened?” 

Minghao doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t trust himself to speak. He just stares and stares as this wrinkled woman chides him in a motherly way until he realizes, ah. This must be his mother. Not his mother, but his dream self’s mother. 

He can work with that. “I’m sorry,” he chokes out. His voice is different. Not his, not his. He tries again— softer, this time— like it might change things. Like he might be able to coax his old voice to break through whatever sleepy haze he’s in. “I’m sorry. I knocked it over by accident.” 

“You’re so clumsy,” his ‘mother’ chides, but she’s already getting to her knees to wipe at the puddle of water with her apron. That snaps Minghao into action; he stumbles across the room in search of a towel. 

What a crazy dream, he thinks as he delicately gathers up the shards, as he wipes up the spilled water. I’ve never had a dream like this. 

As his ‘mother’ heads back downstairs, Minghao figures he might as well play the part. 

He follows her down for breakfast. He’s struck by how visceral, how tactile everything feels. The creeks of the old staircase. The smell of seaweed egg drop soup. The crick in Minghao’s neck.

Am I going insane? Minghao briefly wonders as he settles into the dining table, where there’s already a spread of food waiting for him. He notes that it’s a rather small table, made for only two people. It’s a stark contrast to the long tables he usually shares with twelve other boys, to the family tables he reserves with his own family.

“Why are you being so quiet?” his ‘mother’ asks as she sits across from him. “We’ll just get you a new carafe, kiddo.”

Right. That’s definitely why he was being quiet. Minghao picks up the chopsticks in front of him and goes to try some of the braised potatoes. 

He can even taste it. This was probably the most detailed dream he’s ever had.

“Aren’t I always quiet, though?” Minghao manages to ask in the voice-that-is-not-his. It’s a higher pitched voice, one that has a distinct Seoul accent. 

His ‘mother’ lets out a snort of laughter. “Yah, in what universe are you quiet?” she says with a snicker, reaching over to flick Minghao’s forehead. 

He lets out a small sound of protest. 

“That’s more like it,” his ‘mother’ notes. “Now, eat up. You’ll be late for work.”    

Work. Something like unease begins to pool at the pit of his stomach at the thought of it. Not because he hates his job, no. Minghao loved being a dancer, an idol, an artist. But— he had a feeling that wasn’t the job he should be expecting this time around.

“I— I’m not really feeling well,” he mumbles, pushing around some seaweed at the bottom of his soup. When his ‘mother’ shoots him a scrutinizing glare, he forces out a cough to sell the act. “I’m not sure if I can go in today.” 

His ‘mother’ goes from looking skeptical to concerned. She sets her own utensils down. “Do you need me to take care of you? I can take off, too—” 

“It’s okay,” Minghao says hastily. “I think I just need to stay in bed.” 

The woman across from him doesn’t look convinced, and so he presses on, “How is work, anyway?” 

It’s a polite question, one meant to wheedle out more information. His ‘mother’ takes the bait, though, and goes on to rant about bad co-workers, about impatient patrons. She’s a grocery store bagger, Minghao gleams. And when she complains about other small things— the weather making it difficult to hang laundry, the lack of delivery shifts— Minghao realizes that his ‘mother’ has an array of other side hustles. 

He listens intently. He nods in all the right places. He thinks he’s doing the right thing, but his ‘mother’ falters mid-sentence to fix him a worried look. 

“You really are so quiet today,” she repeats, reaching over to put the back of her hand against Minghao’s forehead. He feels the touch, feels the warmth of concern wash over his skin, and it makes him shiver. “You really must not be feeling well, huh?” 

Minghao thinks he’s only about to feel so much worse.

He heads back to ‘his’ bedroom, and it’s only then that he catches a glimpse of himself in a full-length mirror. It’s… the face of someone he’s never met before. 

Minghao once heard that the people you see in your dreams are never strangers. They’re all faces you’ve seen at least once or twice, and in Minghao’s line of work— well, he’s seen a lot of faces. He raises a hand to pinch at his cheek, to pat at his hair. 

It all feels so real. He doesn’t dwell on that. 

Instead, he starts to explore. Walking around the cramped bedroom feels both like a museum visit and an intrusion. There’s posters peeling off the wall, shelves groaning under the weight of books, clothes that look a little worse for wear. It’s honestly such a mess that Minghao ends up killing a couple of hours just cleaning.

He lets out a snort of laughter as he does. Even in his dreams, he’s picking up over someone. 

He doesn’t know how long he spends gathering hangers and sweeping the floor, but, at one point, the silence is broken by a high-pitched ringtone. He fumbles for the shabby cellphone on the bedside table. 

It had been password-protected, which is why he couldn’t open it. Now, though, there’s an option to answer the incoming call. 

BOSS MAN 👿, it says, and Minghao nearly cracks a smile. Yeah, he can relate to that, at least. 

When he answers the call, though, any and all humor dissipates at the yelling that assaults Minghao’s ear. “WHERE ARE YOU?” ‘Boss Man’ screams on the other end. “I’VE BEEN TRYING TO CALL YOU ALL DAY! YOU’VE GOT SOME NERVE, PUNK—” 

Minghao definitely sees now why the devil emoji was warranted. He has the urge to cut into the other man’s tirade, partly because it’s a dream where there’ll surely be little to no consequences. Something holds him back, though, as he puts some distance between his ear and the phone. 

Once the other man pauses to breathe, Minghao manages to get a word in. “I… wasn’t feeling well,” he says lamely. “Could I maybe work from home or something?” 

“WORK FROM HOME? ARE YOU CRAZY?! WHAT KIND OF BULLSHIT—”

At that point, Minghao just hangs up. When ‘Boss Man’ tries to call again, Minghao turns off the cellphone’s ringer and goes back to cleaning. 

He cleans until there’s not a speck of dust in the bedroom. And when that’s done, he goes to work on the grout in the bathroom, the oil stains in the kitchen. He’s not really sure what he’s doing. Occasionally, he’ll stop in the middle of a chore, wondering if it’s finally time for him to be shaken out of this mundane, long-winded dream. 

Night falls. His ‘mother’ texts about taking on an extra shift. She says something about food in the refrigerator, but Minghao can’t be bothered; he’s so exhausted that he blacks out the moment his head hits his pillow.

He doesn’t even have the energy to contemplate the mechanics of falling asleep in what’s supposed to be a dream. 

On Thursday, Minghao wakes up back in his dorm. 

When he hears the familiar chime of his morning alarm, when he opens his eyes and sees beige, he feels a wave of relief. It really had all been a dream. A very realistic one, sure. But a dream all the same. He was awake now, and he was ready to go about his Wednesday schedule— 

Except, when he checks his phone, it says that it’s already Thursday. 

Minghao blinks. How long was he out? Surely one of the boys would’ve dragged him out of bed if he’d been out of commission for twenty-four hours. 

He unlocks his phone to a dozen unread messages. Eyebrows furrowed, he decides to first go with Seungcheol’s texts. 

🍒: myungho  🍒: are you feeling better?  🐸: Hyung, hi. I think I just overslept a bit but I’m feeling ok. 

Despite the early morning, the three dots indicating that Seungcheol is typing pop up. 

🍒: are you sure???  🍒: you had us worried 🐸: Did I really sleep that long?  🍒: i mean, i don’t know how long you slept 🍒: was that the problem? were you hysterical yesterday because of lack of sleep? ㅋㅋㅋ

Suddenly, Minghao’s room feels a lot colder than earlier. Hysterical. That was the word Seungcheol had used. And yesterday— Tuesday? Nothing out of the ordinary had happened to Minghao. It was all the usual; he had practiced, eaten dinner out with Soonyoung, then went home. 

The dream had been the only unusual thing about the day prior. Minghao is jolted when Seungcheol sends another slew of texts. 

🍒: seriously 🍒: i was worried i might have to bring you to the hospital or something 🍒: but you say you’re ok now? 

Minghao can’t help it anymore. He dials Seungcheol’s number and puts the phone to his ear, his heart pounding in his chest all the while. 

Seungcheol answers on the first ring. In lieu of a greeting, Minghao jumps straight into “Was I really— hysterical, yesterday?” 

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. When Seungcheol speaks, he still sounds a touch gruff, like he’s only half-awake. “I mean, kind of. What, are you worried about it? Do you need help apologizing to Mingyu?” 

Apologizing to Mingyu? “What— is Mingyu mad at me?” 

“Uh.” There’s some sounds of shuffling on the other end, as if Seungcheol is sitting up. It’s a pretty clear giveaway of his growing concern. “You might have to ask him that. But, Hao— you sure you’re better?”

Minghao swallows around the lump in his throat. He doesn’t know where to start without sounding insane.

“I think I’m still feeling a bit off,” Minghao says weakly. “Must be the flu or something.” 

“I can come over.” 

“No, no. I think I just need some rest.” 

Seungcheol lets out a contemplative hum. “Alright,” he says, though he doesn’t sound all too convinced. “I’ll keep the boys off your back for the day. Text me if you need anything, and maybe text Mingyu when you can.” 

“Text Mingyu,” Minghao repeats absentmindedly. “Yeah, got it.” 

The call ends without anything more. Minghao stays seated in his bed for a long moment, just staring at the call log. 

Seungcheol had called him hysterical. Mingyu was upset with him. 

Something was definitely not right. 

Minghao’s suspicion is only confirmed when he goes to check the texts he’d gotten from other members.

🐯: need to call u about choreo but preferably u dont yell at me this time 😒 let me know when’s a good time  🐱: Are u ok? Or did u actually ditch me for our dinner (bec if then, wtf)  🦖: i’ve been in the practice room for an hour now!!!!!! Where are you!!!

If Minghao wasn’t already sitting down, he might’ve collapsed. 

He yelled at Soonyoung. He ditched Jun and Chan. 

He had no memory of any of that. 

But he remembers the shattered carafe, the seaweed soup, the shrill shrieks of ‘Boss Man’ in his ear. 

For a moment, he’s convinced he’s just in another version of the same dream— except, this time, it looks a lot more like a nightmare. As Minghao finally musters up the energy to get to his feet, he notices something at the foot of his bed. 

He unfurls the folded piece of paper. The handwriting isn’t anything he’s seen before. His eyes inadvertently skip to the very bottom, and his heart nearly stops in his damn chest. Minghao drops the paper like it had physically burnt him. 

“What the fuck,” he mumbles to himself as he scrambles to his feet, as he puts distance between himself and the now-discarded paper. “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck.” 

At the very end of the handwritten letter had been a name. 

The name that had been uttered by his dreamself’s mother. The name that ‘Boss Man’ had shrieked. A name he hadn’t heard before yesterday, before his dream— 

Minghao is finding it increasingly hard to believe that it had been a dream in the first place. Hell, he doesn’t even know what ‘yesterday’ is anymore. 

He paces his room. He does breathing exercises. He brews half a pot of tea. 

None of it helps. Hours later— with all his texts still unanswered and his tea depleted— Minghao stumbles back to the letter. 

I don’t know who you are, it starts. But I can tell you who I am. 

I’m from Umyeon-deong in Seocho. I live with my mother; my father hasn’t been in the picture for a long time. I work as an editorial assistant for a local newspaper. (It’s not exactly what I want to be doing, although that’s a story for another day.) 

For a big part of today, I thought I was dreaming. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up back in my bedroom, but the hours have ticked by and I’m still here. Your friends keep contacting you. It’s driving me insane. I accidentally yelled at two of them because they wouldn’t stop calling. The Mingyu one got really upset about it, I think. Sorry. 

I’m writing this because I don’t know what else to do. If this is nothing but a dream, then this shouldn’t matter. But in the 0.000000001% chance that something truly insane has happened to me and you? Well, at least now you know. 

I’m going to try and go to sleep now, although I must admit: You have some pretty nice stuff. I ate some of your tea and snacks (sorry, again). This is crazy. None of this makes sense. 

The letter unceremoniously ends there. Minghao’s eyes flick again to the signoff, to the name at the very bottom. 

Your name. 

His head is reeling. He feels like he’s going to be sick. 

This is no coincidence, no practical joke. It’s— as you’ve said— truly something insane happening. 

Minghao is struck with the realization that it just might happen again, and this time, he actually does get sick. He ends up hurling into a trash can. 

After brushing his teeth, chugging some water, and running through one too many of the chips in his pantry, Minghao gets back to the letter. 

It’s still there, in his hands. The stationary that was locked away in his drawer, bearing handwriting that is not his. 

None of the boys would pull off a prank as elaborate as this. Minghao is fairly certain he would’ve noticed if any of them snuck in, too. So, now, the only logical explanation was the one that was left. 

And Minghao really didn’t like that explanation. 

For what feels like forever, he contemplates what to do. He considers calling up Seungcheol again. He debates the merits of apologizing to Mingyu and Soonyoung; he decides against it when he realizes he wouldn’t even know what he’s apologizing for. He knows what to say to Jun and Chan at least, but that doesn’t make it any easier. How would Minghao even begin to justify himself? Hey, sorry for ditching you; I think I body swapped with a complete stranger. Let’s grab dinner tonight instead? 

There’s a headache blossoming behind Minghao’s eyes at the mere thought of putting the words out into existence. 

In the end, he does what he deems to be the easiest thing to do. He picks up a pen and writes on the other side of your letter. 

Hello, he begins. I’m The8 Myungho Minghao. 

I’m an idol who’s part of a group called SEVENTEEN. They’re the friends who keep contacting me. Mingyu is a fellow member and good friend of mine. I’ll talk to him. 

My family is in a different country. 

As Minghao goes on to write the next parts, he feels a bit foolish. He doesn’t really know what to say, though he feels like he should say something. You had given him something to work with, after all. Slivers of context. He should be able to do the same for you. 

I met your mother. She’s nice. 

I talked to your boss. He wasn’t happy. He yelled at you (me?), and I may or may not have put down the phone. I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure what your work was so I ended up not going at all. 

I hope you liked the tea. Feel free to have all the snacks you want. 

And you’re right. This is crazy. 

If I’m lucky, you’ll never need this letter. 

Minghao wakes up on Friday to the realization that he is decidedly unlucky.

The loud alarm is back, and the ceiling is dark green again, and Minghao once again leans over to throw up. Luckily, there’s a bedside garbage bin that comes to the rescue. 

There’s no sun this time. It’s fairly gloomy outside, the overcast skies peeking through the windows. 

Minghao immediately notices that there’s a folded piece of paper on the pillow next to him. He unfurls it so fast that he almost tears it in half. 

This is a precaution, you start. Maybe, come tomorrow, I can just chuck this out and chalk it all up to a one-off freak incident. 

The thought of this phenomenon not being a one-off nearly has bile rising up in Minghao’s throat all over again, but he forces himself to read the rest of your words. 

First off, I guess I should thank you. My room has never been this clean in my life! And you should have seen the look on my mother’s face when she saw that ‘I’ cleaned the entire apartment. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I was possessed, for the lack of better term, by someone who is a much better person than me. 

That almost makes Minghao smile. Almost, because the next part sends a pang of guilt through him. 

Secondly, though, you almost cost me my job. I can’t believe you hung up on my boss, Donghyuk. I had to do some serious damage control. I managed to get today off, just in case. 

Minghao is struck by your foresight and, adversely, his absolute lack of it. The most he had to do was appease a sulky Mingyu and message back the rest of the boys. His brain races to figure out if he has any schedules for— Friday, was it? A practice, maybe. Or a recording. 

Either way, he’s screwed. You’re screwed. 

Minghao his face in one hand and quietly prays that you know how to dance. 

He skims over the rest of your letter. 

I don’t know why this is a thing. I don’t know if it is meant to be a thing. I’m going to try and look for some answers, whether or not I wake up as you/myself. 

Wish me luck. 

A small part of Minghao feels a tug at the thought of both of you ending your letters with the concept of luck. That feeling is quickly replaced by something akin to dread, because he’s fairly convinced that this is no longer a dream. 

Minghao has woken up in a body that isn’t his. Minghao has woken up in your body— the body of a person he’s sure he’s never met.

He has to live a day in your life with nothing to go by but the notes you’ve left and a handful of context clues. 

For a moment, Minghao contemplates just going back to sleep. Maybe if the both of you just slept right now, the switch would trigger. Maybe he could just spend the whole day in bed until you have to swap again.

The latter seems like the best idea until knuckles rap against the bedroom door. 

Your mother pops her head through the crack in the door. “I’m going to leave early today. The rain isn’t looking so good,” she says with a slight grimace. 

Minghao glances out the window. It’s all he can do, really, to keep himself from not going insane then and there. 

“Take care,” he says. 

He’s suddenly acutely aware of your voice— the cadence and timbre of it. He knows what you sound like, how you write, and he wonders how the two might combine. What might be the right thing to say in this situation. 

Because your mother has that look again, that openly dubious expression. 

“Are you alright?” she asks cautiously, not quite stepping into the bedroom just yet. 

A flash of panic rises up in Minghao. What would you say? What would you do? 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” His tone’s just a little haughty now. It’s so uncharacteristic of him that Minghao nearly winces, but he persists. “Go on, don’t get caught in the rain.” 

Your mother lets out a huff of a laugh, mumbling something like ‘ungrateful kid’ as she retreats. Despite that, it seems to work; she takes her leave without another protest. Minghao lets out a shaky breath.  

His— your stomach, really— lets out a low grumble. A part of him wonders if you’ve been just on edge as he’s been. Unable to eat properly, losing sleep over this whole thing. 

Regardless, the least he can do is take care of you. He pads over to the kitchen and rummages through the refrigerator for some leftovers. All the while, he’s thinking of what he has in his own kitchen. 

Will you be hungry? You did say you liked his snacks. Would that be enough? 

The questions rattling in his head turn into considerably more stressful ones. 

Is this going to happen forever? Will he have to spend the rest of his life swapping bodies with you on a day-to-day basis?

He thinks of the group, thinks of your mother. Thinks of his demanding job and your terrible boss. 

Minghao nearly panics again. He manages to keep it together enough to make a sandwich and sip some coffee. 

He tries to meditate, even, but it’s like your body knows that it’s not a practice that you frequent. Your hands twitch in the stillness; your heart only slams harder instead of calming. You need to catch a goddamn break, Minghao thinks as he grits his teeth and tries to relax. 

Something good comes out of his attempt, at least. It comes as an epiphany of some sorts— how he suddenly remembers a portion of your letter. 

I’m going to try and look for some answers, you had written. 

He might as well do the same. 

Once he’s changed into outerwear that’s slightly more acceptable for the rainy weather, he spends a good amount of time searching for your wallet. When he goes to check it, he inadvertently lets out a grumbled “damn.”

Your wallet has nothing but a couple of loose bills. 

Minghao can’t blame you, not really, but you’re certainly giving him very little to work with. A part of him even feels kind of bad for you. Not only did you have a demon for a boss; you were also severely underpaid. He makes a mental note to bring that up in his next letter to you. 

He can’t go far with the lack of funds, though that’s not the only thing hindering his quest for answers. It’s pouring outside, the rain coming in heavy droplets. 

Minghao braves it with a raincoat and an umbrella, hoping against hope to find something. Anything. 

As luck would have it, your neighborhood has a local library. 

When he steps in, the librarian doesn’t pay him much heed. Minghao is momentarily amused by the thought. Did you not come here often? 

It’s a quaint place with a scarce collection. A lot of the novels are on the older end— published nearly a decade ago— but they remain in pristine condition. Minghao skips over the best-sellers and the manga serieses, instead opting to sift through the psychology textbooks. 

He’s not surprised when he doesn’t find anything of use there, when he spends nearly four hours reading and reading to no avail. The lack of non-fiction about a body swapping phenomenon is to be expected. This wasn’t something that just happened, after all. 

And yet it’s happening to me, Minghao thinks with frustration as he grabs at his sixth book of the afternoon. The unexpected force knocks some of the surrounding books onto the floor. 

The librarian gives him a vicious side eye. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Minghao mumbles as he immediately gets to his knees. 

His hands close around one of the books he knocked over. It’s a heavy hardbound with a gorgeous deep red cover and metallic gold lettering. There’s a dragon featured on the front and the familiar iconography of it nearly bowls Minghao over. 

While still crouched down on the floor, Minghao flips through the pages. The images that go flashing by are not strangers to him, but there’s one in particular that he’s looking for. 

He finds it on the thirtieth page. Almost out of instinct, his fingers trace over the characters. 

月老. Yue Lao. 

Suddenly, Minghao is a child again, listening to his mother’s stories. He had been young and wide-eyed, sprawled on her lap as she talked soothingly about the god who presented himself as an old man under the moon.  

The god of marriage and love. He’s the reason why your bàba and I met, his mother would say amusedly. Yue Lao made it possible. 

How? His younger self had demanded. How did he make sure? 

His mother had laughed, then. Had stroked Minghao’s hair out of his face as she told him about the myth. The magical cord may stretch or tangle, but it will never break. 

And, oh, how Minghao had prayed back then. He prayed to Yue Lao the hardest— his eyes squeezed shut, his hands clasped to his chest. 

I hope I find love. 

It doesn’t matter when, or where, or how. 

Qǐng, Yue Lao. Please, please, please. 

“Are you going to check that out or what?” 

Minghao is dragged out of his memories at the sound of the librarian’s sharp tone. “I—” 

The words stick in his throat. Eventually, he manages a meek, “I’ll put it back.”

It’s still pouring as he leaves the library and makes the short walk back to your apartment. The rainwater pooling in the gutters has muck and grime sticking to the bottom of his— technically your— rain boots. Another thing to apologize for, Minghao thinks wryly. 

He seeks temporary shelter underneath the corner store near your apartment block. The vendor looks up expectantly. 

“The usual?” the woman croaks, and it takes a moment for Minghao to register that he’s being addressed.  

“Not today,” he responds with a tight smile. 

The vendor lets out a bark of laughter. “When have you ever said ‘no’ to me?” she says with a tut of disapproval. Before Minghao can protest, the stranger is already shuffling over to her cooking station. 

Minghao watches in silence when he realizes what’s being made. Some fruit is speared onto a bamboo skewer, then dipped into a simmering syrup. It emerges coated like a clear gemstone before it’s shoved into a bowl of ice. 

Tanghulu, Minghao thinks dazedly as he accepts the snack. “Thank you,” he says softly.

The vendor smiles. She’s already missing a couple of teeth. 

Minghao takes a tentative bite. Tanghulu was a familiar enough delicacy, but the fruit he'd been given— your ‘usual’— is something he hasn't seen in quite some time. 

The date-plum persimmon is soft and glutinous, wrapped in a thin layer of crisp sweetness. Minghao can't remember the last time he had black jujube this way. 

“You’re still the only one who likes that stuff.” There’s an edge of fondness to the vendor’s tone. A clear indicator that you have some sort of camaraderie with her, something that Minghao isn’t entirely privy to. “Do you know how hard it is to find stock of that darn fruit?” 

It seems like a rhetorical question, like something that you’d probably take in stride. But Minghao can’t bring himself to joke. His free hand is already fishing for your wallet, where he’s prepared to blow the last of your money on this dessert. 

The vendor shakes her head. “Not today,” she chirps, echoing Minghao’s words from earlier. Her gaze is fixed over his shoulder, where the downpour is relentless. 

Minghao is not quite sure what the norm is supposed to be. Do the two of you talk? Do you leave right after you’ve made your purchase? 

He doesn’t want to be rude, so he mumbles his gratitude and decides to stick around for a moment. The vendor thankfully chooses not to make conversation. 

Minghao spends a long time just standing there, making slow work of the sticky date-plum. He watches the rain that never lets up. He watches the lights of your apartment building flicker on as night falls. He watches, and he tries to commit it to memory as he finishes off his tanghulu. 

For what it’s worth, he’s glad to ‘share’ this with you— something sweet to get the both of you by. 

Come Saturday, Minghao wakes up with more questions than answers.

Your letter is within reach, resting atop his bedside table. He goes to read it despite the fact that he’s barely lucid. 

It’s shorter this time. If he strained, he could almost hear the words in your voice. A distant echo. 

I can’t believe you’re actually an idol. Have you met BIGBANG? 

That draws a surprised laugh out of him. It’s been years since he last heard of his industry seniors. The thought of you being a second gen fan is a little endearing to him. 

Anyway, I told everyone who contacted you that you were really sick. Like, throwing up levels of sick. ‘Coups-hyung’ said he would send a manager, but I assured him that you already had one on the way. You might want to corroborate that lie. 

I know I said I would look for answers, but I couldn’t really go far. I was scared of getting lost. And, man, your neighborhood is overwhelming. I’ve lived in Seoul my whole life and I don’t think I’ve ever been in this part of the city. 

I ended up spending most of my day just reading your books. Good taste. 

The compliment puts the smallest grin on his face.   

I promise to do better research when I’m back in my own body. ‘Till then. 

As curt as your letter is, it gives him an idea he probably wouldn’t have had otherwise. Better research. Back in his own body.

He fishes for your first letter, which he had kept tucked in his drawer. It’s still there, which means the past couple of days have not been a bout of psychosis. He doesn’t know if he’s relieved or horrified. 

Minghao focuses instead on scanning your introduction, where you had mentioned your neighborhood. Umyeon-deong. 

While he’s in the back of the cab, Minghao texts back his members. He’s vague, still, but it’s not anything particularly new. Feeling a little better. Getting a check-up, just in case. Stop worrying. I’ll let you know how it goes. 

The heat is oppressive for July, almost beating down on Minghao’s back as he finally makes it to the district. It’s a full 180 from yesterday’s rain. He regrets the baseball cap and the hoodie, but both are necessary evils. 

He’s not entirely sure where to drop off, so he settles for one of the corners at the mouth of the neighborhood. Once he’s there, he just— begins to walk in a general direction.

Later, he realizes he probably could have pulled up Google Maps. He would have benefited from asking around, would have cut his time in half if he deigned to admit that he was lost. But, at the moment, he’s just taking it all in. 

The apartment complexes. The children’s park. The liquor store. 

Briefly, he wonders if he’ll run into you. Would you recognize him? 

Would he even want you to? 

Minghao is so busy mulling it over that he almost misses it. The streetside food stand advertising fresh tanghulu. It feels like yesterday— well, it was yesterday. His mouth is already watering at the thought of the candied date-plums as he wanders over to the stand. 

A rasping voice addresses him. He looks up from scanning the selection, realizing with a jolt that it’s the same vendor.

But it’s also— not. 

Something is off. 

Something he can’t quite place.

It almost steals the breath out of Minghao. He probably looks dumbstruck, looks stupid with his mouth hanging slightly agape, but the vendor asks again, “What do you want?”

Minghao forces an answer out of his chest. “Do you have— black jujube?”

A myriad of micro expressions flash across the seller’s face. It starts with recognition, but ends with something closer to tightness. She gives a labored grunt in response before going to make the snack. 

When she hands it over to Minghao, there’s a slight quiver in her fingers. She nearly drops it, even, but Minghao catches it just in time. 

“Sorry,” she grouses. “It’s an order that a regular of mine used to have.” 

There’s a low ringing in Minghao’s ears as he says “ah,” as he hands over his payment. The vendor busies herself with cleaning her workstation, and Minghao tries to enjoy the date-plums, but it’s not as good as he remembers it. 

Was it perhaps a difference in taste buds? 

No, he thinks. It’s the lump in his throat. It’s the seller’s words nagging at the back of his mind. 

An order that a regular of mine used to have. Used to. 

He saw her yesterday. You were supposed to have seen her yesterday. 

As he munches on the fruit, he asks almost too casually, “Is it your first time selling in this area?” 

The vendor shoots him a suspicious glare. Minghao knows he’s being a little odd with the line of his small talk so he fields his question, tries to make it come out more naturally. “I remember you used to have a spot somewhere else,” he offers. “In front of an apartment building.”

This time, it’s the seller’s turn to mumble “ah.” 

“That’s why you had that order,” she says with a humorless laugh. “You knew them, huh?” 

“Them?” 

The vendor says your name. The ringing in Minghao’s ear gets louder; his fingers, tightening around the skewer of his tanghulu. It’s the first time he’s hearing your name in his own body and it sends a shiver down his spine. 

The question is even harder to answer. Does he know you? Was he allowed to say that?—

No. No, wait. The vendor had said knew. 

The ringing reaches an almost feverish pitch. It’s a miracle that Minghao hears anything else, that he picks up the murmured words that the seller says next.  

“It’s a real shame,” she says with a voice so soft, so solemn, so small. “It’s been nine years, hasn’t it?” 

Nine years.

Nine years. 

Nine years. 

Since what? Since you? 

A lot of things haven’t made sense to Minghao in the past couple of days, but this— this is the one that baffles him the most. He saw you— he was you— yesterday. 

When Minghao finally finds his voice, it’s to ask for a favor. 

The vendor complies, albeit skeptically. She hangs a ‘be right back’ sign over her stall. It’s a short walk, not more than seven minutes. 

If Minghao’s ears had been ringing earlier, now, it’s just dead silence. A dreadful sort of quiet as he stares at the ruins of the apartment building he was staring at just the day before. 

The seller is watching his face carefully. “You didn’t know?” she prompts gently. 

Minghao realizes he has to come up with something. “We were friends. Me and—” He chokes around your name. When he finally says it out loud for the first time, he feels guilty. It feels so wrong to be saying it in this context. To have it be part of a lie. “But then—” 

He trails off. The vendor supplies, “You lost touch?” 

Sure. Minghao gives a jerky nod in response. That’s one way to put it. 

He’s not even looking for an explanation, but the seller gives him one. “The typhoon was so bad that it triggered landslides,” she says gruffly. She nods towards the direction of the mountain towering over the neighborhood. “I think the death toll was around eighteen people.” 

Minghao resists the urge to scream. If he were a lesser man, he might have fainted. Instead, he quietly says, “Nine years ago.” 

“Nine years ago,” the vendor confirms. She pauses before adding, her voice just a little sadder, “A tragedy.” 

“Tragedy,” Minghao repeats. That doesn’t even begin to cover it, he thinks. 

Neither of them say anything for a long time. He can feel the pity rolling off the seller in waves; still, he can’t bring himself to turn away. He stares, and he stares, and he stares at the rubble, at the derelict building. At the mere echo of what had been so loud and alive to him just yesterday.

After what feels like forever, he asks another question. “Is— is the library still around?” 

The vendor leads the way. At the door of the library, she attempts to give Minghao a reassuring smile. It’s all just gums, now. No teeth. There’s an endless refrain of nine years, nine years, nine years screeching through Minghao’s head as the seller bids him goodbye with “I’m sorry you lost your friend.” 

“I’m sorry, too,” he responds with a solemnity that doesn’t need to be feigned. 

The librarian isn’t the same one. 

This one has a calmer demeanor, a more restrained smile. Somehow, that only makes Minghao feel much worse. He knows what he’s looking for this time; he goes straight to the neighborhood records and scrolls all the way back to nine years ago. 2015. 

It’s a lot of information to digest all at once. There’s the newspaper clippings about the heavy rainfall. The flash floods, the landslides. Class action lawsuits. Landmine threats. Government incompetence. 

Minghao feels like he’s drowning in news, but it’s still not what he’s looking for. 

He finds it in a directory. There’s two people with the same last name and Minghao nearly loses it then and there, at the thought of your mother, too— 

He focuses on you for now. His quivering finger traces the cell that contains your name, your date of birth. 1997. The same year as him. A couple of months younger, though. 

Nine years ago, Minghao had been 18. Just about to debut. 

Nine years ago, you had been an editorial assistant. Not exactly what I want to be doing, you had written in your first letter to him. There was no way for you to know that you would never have the chance to be anything more.  

Minghao’s eyes fall on the date of death. 

Except— 

It’s not nine years ago yesterday, not nine years ago today. It’s tomorrow. 

In that very moment, he understands what he’s meant to do. 

When Minghao wakes up in your body on Sunday, he knows he has only one chance. 

He had read up all about it the ‘day’ prior but the details were vague. None of the news reports mentioned when exactly the landslide would happen. The most he gleamed was that it would be due to an unstable slope from the nearby Mount Umyeon. 

A wall of mud three storeys high hit the building, one article had said. It’s the only information that Minghao has to go by as he drags himself out of bed, ignoring the blare of your obnoxious alarm. 

He goes straight for your mother’s room. She’s already awake, standing by the window. 

Outside, the storm rages on. Your mother turns to face Minghao. “It’s not looking good out there,” she says disapprovingly. “The news said it’s the heaviest rainfall in nearly a century.” 

Back in his body, Minghao had contemplated how he would go about this. He thought he might try to coax your mother, might be logical and rational in urging her to evacuate. 

In that very moment, though, he instead finds himself blurting out, “We’re going to die.” 

A beat. Your mother looks unfazed. 

“You’re always so dramatic.” 

The panic simmers in the pit of Minghao’s stomach. “We’re going to die,” he repeats, his tone on the shriller end now. 

It wasn’t like him to give in to hysteria; he was you, though, and your mother seemed nonchalant enough about it. He’s not sure if that’s a blessing or a curse. “It’s just a little bit of rain,” your mother says dismissively as she squeezes past Minghao and heads towards the kitchen. 

Minghao is on her heels, his hands wringing together. “We can’t stay here,” he pleads. “We have to leave.” 

Your mother shoots Minghao— you— an exasperated look. “Where are we going to go in this weather?” 

“No. No, no. We have to go somewhere safe.” 

“We’re safe here—” 

“We’re not—”

It’s almost like a crack of thunder, the way your mother says your name. The sound shuts Minghao up immediately. It’s a familiar warning, an intonation that all mothers seem to wield over their children.

“What’s going on with you, really?” your mother questions, her hands at her hips. She’s eyeing Minghao with mild annoyance but he sees it for what it is. Concern. “You’ve been so odd these past few days. Is there something you’re not telling me?” 

And how is Minghao supposed to answer that? 

I’m not actually your child. I’ve swapped bodies with a man who lives nine years in the future. Our survival hinges on whether or not you’ll hear me out. 

When Minghao stays silent for a little too long, your mother shakes her head. “Get it together,” she says sternly. 

Maybe it’s that. Maybe that’s what finally gets Minghao to say—

“Please.” 

Your mother pauses in the middle of rifling through the refrigerator. For a long, terrible moment, the only sound is the rain. 

Minghao’s hands are shaking at his side. “Please,” he repeats. He knows he sounds more like himself than you. He knows he’s being out of character, being obvious. 

But he needs your mother to understand. She’s looking at him now like he’s a stranger. 

Like you’re a stranger. And you are— at least in that moment. 

The words tumble out of Minghao before he can contain them. “I want to live.”

He doesn’t know where it’s all coming from, this rush of emotion. Your voice wavers; he pushes on. “I want to live,” he gasps out. “I want to move us to an apartment that’s not next to a damn mountain. I want to not work in this damn job. I want to live until I’m your age, until I’m even older than that, dammit—” 

Your mother crosses the room, the refrigerator long forgotten. When she raises a hand to Minghao’s face, he doesn’t even realize that some tears had escaped. 

These are all things he wants for you, he realizes.

He wants you to have a good job. He wants you and your mother to be out of harm’s way. He wants you to live a long, full life. 

“Please,” Minghao says a third time, his voice cracking around the word.

There’s a softness to your mother’s gaze; this time, her worry is undeniable. She holds Minghao’s face— no, he thinks. She’s holding your face. Her child’s face. Her child, who’s crying, who’s begging. 

That’s likely the reason why she acquiesces. “Alright,” she exhales, using her thumb to wipe away some of Minghao’s tears. “We’ll leave. We’ll go.”

That’s only half the battle, though. 

Minghao mutters something below his breath. Your mother raises her eyebrows in a silent question, and so he clears his throat before speaking louder. 

“We have to evacuate the entire building,” he mumbles. 

It takes time to convince your mother, which stresses Minghao out beyond belief. Time isn’t a luxury that he has. Not when he has no idea when the landslide will hit. Not when the rain is only worsening, making it less likely to persuade people to leave the comfort of their homes.

By some grace, he manages to get your mother on board. Sure, he had to spew odd specifics and statistics about the dangers of landslides, but it works. The two go door to door. 

They’re met with initial resistance. Minghao doesn’t care. 

He badgers the elderly. He negotiates with the children. He almost gets to his knees when a family with a baby refuses to budge. 

The entire apartment complex is bewildered. 

But when somebody is batting so hard for safety, when somebody is so desperate in what seems to be just a little more than paranoia— you listen. 

The landslide hits just as Minghao is helping the last resident out of the building. 

He’s never felt anything quite like it. He’s experienced earthquakes and their aftershocks. He’s been in stadiums that have shook with the sheer amount of people, the pulse of their music. 

This one starts with a rumble. Low and deep, like it’s coming from the very ground. He hears the trees crack, the boulders knock together. And then— 

Your mother is grabbing him by the arm. She’s screaming, screaming, screaming, the sound drowned out by the storm, by the shrieks of all the other evacuated residents, by the mud that suddenly crashes down on the complex in one fell swoop. It’s everything, everywhere, all at once. 

Minghao is soaked from head to toe. Some of the mud flies and sticks to his hair, his clothes. He can almost taste it, too. The earth. The rain. He feels the chill to his very bones.

Despite that, he laughs. Your mother is dragging him, you, away from the calamity, the tragedy, and all that Minghao can do is laugh. 

Because he made sure that no one was left in the building. 

Because he’s alive. 

You’re alive. 

Later, when everyone is gathered in an evacuation center— shivering underneath blankets, talking about how it was all such a close call— Minghao falls asleep at your mother’s side. He feels like a kid again, with his hair being stroked, with soft words being uttered to him. 

He drifts off and dreams. 

Minghao is sure that this is a dream because his surroundings take on the hazy quality of one. 

It’s just a little too bright to be real, the setting bathed in a light that feels almost like a bulb had exploded. Minghao has to put one hand over his eyes— 

It’s his hand, he realizes. He’s dreaming as himself.

His sight adjusts. He’s at a dining table. It’s a two-person dining table. Much smaller than he’s used to.

“It’s you.”

He drops his hand and braces it against the edge of the table, because your voice— he should be used to it, shouldn’t he? He had used it for a bit, formed words like sorry and thank you with a lilting tone. 

When he responds, his own words are imperceptibly soft. 

“It’s me,” he confirms. 

You’re seated across from him. He had caught glimpses of your features in reflections, in photographs, but it’s something entirely new. To be taking you in from an outsider’s perspective. He sees how you would control your body, how you were inclined to react. It makes him dizzy, just how much he had gotten wrong about your mannerisms. 

The first proper words you speak are, “You have some good friends, you know?” 

A corner of Minghao’s lip twitches upward. The thought of the boys constantly checking in on him seems about right. 

“And you have a good mother.” Minghao pauses. He did say he would mention the next part. “Terrible job, though. You should quit.” 

“Easy for you to say, Mr. Idol,” you shoot right back. 

He winces; you laugh. The sound has the edges of his vision growing fuzzy. A sepia of the past, the present, and whatever this moment is, all blurring into one. Minghao doesn’t want to wake up. 

“What happens now?” you ask, your own fingers tap, tap, tapping on the table between you two. 

“I’m not sure.” 

“Why—?” 

“— Did this happen in the first place?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I’ve wondered the same thing.” 

The edges are closing in a little more now. Minghao can feel it— the familiar warmth of his bed at home, the tug of his own time. He’s already asked so much from his mother’s old gods but he lets his eyes flutter close so he can make a final plea. 

Just one more minute. Give me one more minute, please. 

“I think…” he starts slowly. His voice already sounds so distant. “It’s my fault.” 

“Your fault.” Skepticism undercuts your tone, enough to prompt Minghao to open his eyes again. 

He looks down at his hands, the ones that had folded atop the table. “I prayed for you,” he admits quietly. “Every day, back when I was a kid.” 

Confusion drips from your every word. “For me specifically?” 

He laughs. “Okay, maybe not you specifically,” he amends. “But—” 

It’s getting unbearably bright now, so much that he can only really make out the silhouette of your form. He itches to reach, to touch, just to see if you’re real. He doesn’t want to push it, though. 

Minghao settles with holding up his hand. If you squinted, if you really, really tried, you might see it, too. 

The faint glimmer of a red cord— looped around his thumb, tied to your pinky. 

Every day, back when I was a kid. 

“I prayed for this,” he repeats.

And so, in some way, he supposes you’re right. 

He had prayed for you. 

The chime of bells. 

The beige ceiling. 

Minghao is fairly sure he had dreamt, but it’s the kind of dream you forget the moment you wake up.

He blinks once, then twice. Odd. It felt like a good dream, too. 

There’s a warm, fuzzy feeling blossoming in his chest, though it fades just as quickly as it blooms. 

Minghao never wakes up as you again. 

The universe takes, and takes, and takes. It takes away Minghao’s memory. He’s not entirely sure what happened to him those couple of days. Seungcheol says he went to the hospital. Mingyu laments that they fought. 

Minghao borrows one of Soonyoung’s favorite words. Funk. He had been in a funk, probably. An off couple of days.

He’s back to regular programming so seamlessly that the others are forced to believe him. 

Still—

Minghao goes about the next couple of weeks feeling like something is missing. 

It annoys him to no end. It’s not any of his valuables, he’s sure. He double, triple checked everything. He turns his entire apartment upside down and puts it back together again. He goes for meals with all of his members, hoping to find the answers there. 

Nothing.

He falls into dreamless sleep every night, and wakes up every morning with that empty feeling in his chest.

It’s an unassuming Wednesday evening— one that he spends driving around with Vernon and Wonwoo— when it hits him. 

“Hey,” he says, throwing them a glance through the rearview mirror. “I could go for some dessert.”  

Vernon perks up at that. “Should we head to Myeongdeong?” 

“Sounds good.” 

Vernon throws out directions. Wonwoo queues the music. 

Minghao keeps his eyes on the road ahead.

The night market is an assault on the senses but it’s also a good cover for the three idols. They set out with their matching hoodies and half-face masks, in search of something to fulfill their cravings. 

Vernon goes to get some dragon’s beard candy. 

Wonwoo wanders off to purchase some hotteok. 

Minghao… He isn’t sure, really, which is a bit ironic. He had been the one to make the call, after all. He weaves through the crowds, his hands in his jacket pockets, as he scrutinizes the stalls. 

Kkwabaegi. Bungeoppang. Tanghulu. Dalgona. Bing—

He backs up a bit. 

“Hi,” he greets the seller. “This is a bit weird, but do you have black jujube?” 

The tanghulu vendor lets out a grunt of approval. “I think I’ve got one more stick,” she notes as he ducks to check her stock. 

What a weird craving, Minghao thinks to himself. But it’s the first thing that came to mind. 

A voice at his side addresses the seller by name.

“Got my date-plum persimmon, ajumma?” 

It’s not a voice that Minghao has heard before, and yet—

Frantically, he tries to sort through the hundreds of fansigns and fan meetings he’s had in the past decade. Could it be that? Could that be the reason why the lilt was so damn familiar? 

As he turns to look at the source, he knows in his heart of hearts that it’s not the case.

You’re already turning away, though, grumbling about the lack of the tanghulu that you want. Minghao hadn’t even heard the vendor respond.

There’s a ringing in his ears. 

“Excuse me,” he manages.

You falter in your steps. When you look up at him, he sees the same flash of confusion. One that’s borne out of recognition. 

The ringing has gotten louder. Despite that, he pushes out three words. 

He thinks he’s yelling them; in reality, they’re barely audible over the din of the night market. 

“Haven’t we met?” he breathes. 

For one dreadful, dragging moment, he’s convinced he’ll die if you say no, even though his mind is being terribly uncooperative. He can’t place when, or where, or how he met you. He can’t say if you’re familiar because he knows you or someone like you. 

All he knows is that he can’t, won’t let you walk away.

Your response makes everything in Minghao’s head go quiet. 

“I thought so, too,” you say, and something in his chest thrums. 

It feels a lot like an answered prayer.